Page 124 of The Tape Job
“Okay, we’ll sort it out then. I’ve got to go, but it was great meeting you. Thanks for the tickets.”
We wave to Danny as he skates back towards the bench.
“Ready?” I say.
We walk towards the double doors to the lobby and Neil makes another terrible joke, but I fake another laugh to be polite. People pleaser Vicky is coming in handy.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you to have dinner with me?” he asks, but I shake my head. “A drink then?”
I guess I’d give him a ten for effort, but even though I know Liam and I haven’t put a label on us, I don’t want to go out with anyone else. Neil’s asked me every time I’ve seen him. I hoped that my saying no earlier would be the end but hearing him asking again now gives me a bigger ‘ick’ than I had before.
“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I need to remain professional.” I commend myself for pulling that one out of the bag.
We enter the lobby which is now quiet, despite it being just half an hour until public skate starts, and we head towards the public lockers. Neil fishes in his pocket for his key and slides it into the locker nearest the door.
“Well, thanks for the tour. Let me know if you change your mind,” he says, pulling his bag out. “Oh, and I almost forgot. This is for you, a thank you for all your hard work.” He unzips the top of his bag and reaches in, pulling out a rugby jersey. “It’s from last year’s ‘Six Nations.’ They don’t usually put oursurnames on the back, but they did last year.” He holds it out to me. Where I come from, giving someone your jersey is more than just a thank-you. But I feel obliged to take it.
“If you ask at the desk here, they can set you up—”
Liam’s showing someone to the front desk, and glances over to where Neil and I are standing, the jersey clutched in my hands. Looking down, I definitely notice Jenkins is proudly on display to any onlooker, Liam included. I feel a tug of embarrassment in my chest.
With a polite smile and nod, he greets us and leaves, the left door closing with a thud.
“Are you okay, Vicky?” Neil adjusts himself so he’s standing right in front of me. “You’ve gone pale.”
“I’m fine,” I say, and I hand back the jersey to Neil, who accepts it reluctantly. “I’m sorry—I can’t accept this. I appreciate the kind gesture, I really do … but I can’t.” He nods and shoves the shirt back into his bag.
The atmosphere between us turns awkward, and I can’t see him out quickly enough. I’m careful not to promise to see him soon, because I now feel like I have no choice but to call Dean, from the Echo, and withdraw from my agreement to help with the photography. While the money was helpful, I know I’m done photographing the rugby team.
As I watch Neil walk away, I wonder if things would have been different if I was attracted to him. Honestly, I can’t remember when I last had feelings for someone other than Liam. Suddenly, I’m crying. Not full-on crying, but my eyes prickle with tears.
I make my way upstairs to the staff washroom and help myself to a tissue, trying to fix my mascara.
I smell his cologne first. Then his body fills the space behind me. Liam addresses me via the mirror. “I need to stop following you into the ladies’ room.” I stare back at him. He steps closer and puts his hands on the counter, one on each side of me. I’m boxed in. “The tattoo under your left breast.What does it say?” He talks directly into my ear; my skin prickles.
“Forty-six,” I say, still gazing back.
“And we both know you didn’t get it as a birthday reminder.”
I swallow. I know what he’s alluding to, but I want to hear him say it. “Tell me I’m yours, and we’ll quit the games.”
Pushing my hair aside, his lips brush my neck. I roll my head to the side, giving him all the access he needs. Electricity flows between us as he nibbles at my skin. His arms wrap around me, and he cups my boobs in his hands. Squeezing and kneading, his kisses become demanding. He frees a hand and grabs my chin, thrusting my mouth towards his. Our lips meet as a growl escapes him.
“Why do you have jeans on today?” he complains but I pop my button and shimmy them down my legs, hoping we can make it work.
I hear him fumble with his belt before he unzips his pants, and in a swift movement, his dick is sitting between my ass cheeks.
“Bend forwards,” he says, pushing me down. The mirror gives me the opportunity to watch his every move, and I’m living for it. The muscles in his arms twist as he positions himself to run his hands over my ass. “Your skin is so soft—do you want me to be gentle?”
I bite my lip and shake my head.
Spank.
“Do you?”
“No.”
He pulls at my panties, pushing them to the side before rubbing the head of his dick up and down my pussy. I gasp and push back, almost desperately.
