Page 26 of There's No Us Without You
“Get it together,” he says, grabbing my upper arm. “The last thing you need is a distraction right now.”
Ignoring the heat of his hand on my skin, and the way my body wants to lean into him, I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad.” I shake my head and shove a dishwashing tablet into its compartment before slamming the door. “Just worry about yourself.”
Why is he being so fucking bossy? I’m not one of his subs. And with what Will’s into, I doubt he’d want me, anyway.
Not that I care. Me being enough for him never worried me before, so why is the thought playing on my mind recently?
It’s not like I could act on my feelings, anyway. Stupid Coach. He’s ruining my damn life.
“Just sort out whatever it is you think you feel for her.” Will grabs the back of my neck and leans in close to my ear. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
His warm breath against my skin has me shivering and squeezing my eyes closed.
Damn, he smells so good.
“Whatever.” I shrug out of his grip. “I’m fine.”
Will sighs, and when he stalks away, I give him the finger.
Arsehole.
I hate the way he pisses me off, and as of late, turns me on.
It’s confusing as hell, especially my body’s reaction to his. I’m not afraid to admit I haven’t felt this amount of sexual tension before.
Ever.
For now, though, I’ll just be content with using my hand.
After I’ve finished cleaning up the kitchen, I lock up and head upstairs to my room. Yawning, I yank my shirt over my head and throw it into the laundry basket in the corner.
I’m exhausted, my muscles aching from the amount of training we’ve been doing. Not to mention the number of hits I’ve taken during game time. Sure, I’m the biggest threat on the field, but fuck have I been targeted.
My knee gives out a little when I sit on the edge of my bed, so I grab a packet of anti-inflammatories from my bedside table and pop two little red tablets out of the blisters. I’m throwing them down when a knock at my door has me tossing the packetonto the floor. If Will catches me, he’ll know something is up and then he’ll start asking questions.
I swallow hard and clear my throat. “Come in.”
When the door opens, I expect to see Will. Except it’s Eden who’s hovering in the doorway, her arms wrapped around her waist. When her eyes meet my bare chest, they widen before she covers them and turns her head.
“Sorry,” she says, a pretty shade of pink now covering her chest and cheeks. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“You aren’t interrupting me, Eden,” I say, standing. “Are you okay?”
Separating her fingers, her eyes find mine. “Would you mind if I... borrowed a shirt to sleep in? I only have winter clothing.” She sighs, dropping her hands to her sides. “I was supposed to be in Alaska on my honeymoon.”
Jesus.
“Yeah, of course,” I say, heading to my drawers on the far wall to pull out a dark-blue club shirt.
The need to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay is overwhelming my brain. That would be inappropriate, right? And who am I to promise anything of the sort, considering I’m only just holding on by my fingertips to my own shit show?
When I woke this morning, my knee was stiff, and just climbing from the bed had me wincing and swearing like a trooper. What timing. If Cooper Hale—brown-noser of the century, and a right pain in my arse—finds out I’m injured, I’m fucking screwed. The first thing he’ll do is go straight to Coach. He’d love nothing more than to see me fall from my pedestal and break every bone on the way down. He’s been after my captaincy since the club announced me last season.
When I hand the shirt to Eden, our fingertips touch for the briefest of moments, and she sucks in a quick breath, yanking her hand to her chest as though I’ve just burnt her.
“Thanks,” she says, before practically tripping over her feet and running down the hall.
Moments later, the door to her room slams shut, leaving me staring at the empty space in my open doorway.
