Dirty Play:Sports Romance(10)

"Look, Wes, I'm prepared to keep Cosech in as long as we need him. If  this really is a six-week recovery, I can't count on you out there."

I could feel the vein throb at my temple. "It's not going to take that  long. All I need is two weeks. I'll be back. You can count on me. The  entire team can count on me."

There was a pale strip across his forehead when he took off his visor.  "I hope that's true. Really, I do, but I have to look out for the  Wranglers. I have ownership to answer to. You don't have that pressure.

We both wish this really was a sprain, but let's face reality. No one  bounces back from surgery that quickly. So for now, Cosech is our man.  When you get your clearance from Dr. Ashworth, then we'll talk."

After last night, I wondered how hard it would be to get her to sign off  on my release for the AFA. I had given her an unbelievable night. I  wasn't fooling myself. It had been incredible for me, too. The least she  could do was sign some damn papers.         

     



 

"In the meantime, this is the Monday night playbook." Coach looked at me.

"All right. Run the damn play." I pushed away from the table. "But when  Cosech's first pass gets intercepted, don't look at me," I warned. I  knew what I was talking about. We hadn't made it this far because of  luck. There was strategy in every play. And I called the fucking shots  on offense.

I walked past him, trying not to wince. My hand hurt like hell. I needed  something to jumpstart the healing process. HGH would solve my problem,  but I knew the trainers weren't going to give it to me.

I had to find another way.

"I'll see you before the game, Blakefield."

"See you then." I left the man going over his new plays while the games blared on the TVs.







I didn't like wearing the sling. It made me look weak. It made me look  like I was injured and I hated that. When I took it off last night, I  forgot about the pain. Seeing Lennon's body. Hearing her moan. Watching  her rock into me with total abandon was the best medicine I could get.  But right now, it hurt like hell. I was considering taking a few of the  pain pills she had prescribed.

I turned my keys in the apartment door. She was standing in her black dress.

"Leaving so soon?" I asked.

"Well, I didn't know how long your meeting was going to be, and it's not  like we talked about plans. One-time deal, right?" She seemed nervous.  She kept looking away.

"It didn't take that long." I closed the door behind me. "Trying to figure out the plays for the Monday night game."

"Oh."

I walked toward her. Just being this close to her made me want to rip  that black dress off her again. She was under my skin. I couldn't  remember the last time a woman made me react like this.

"Why don't you stick around?" I winked. "We could watch the games. Order some food."

"Oh, I don't really watch football." She shook her head.

"Well then, this is your lucky day, Doc." I took her by the hand and led  her to the couch. I sat her next to me and reached for the remote.

"What are you doing?"

"You are getting ready to get a lesson in football from the most elite  quarterback in the American Football Association." I grinned at her,  flipping through, looking for the Cyclones' game.

"Wes … " She hesitated, twisting her lip under her teeth. It was enough to  make my cock strain against my jeans. Those lips were sexy as hell.

"It's Sunday. That means football." I eyed her.

"For you, it means football. For me, it means I should go home. We said this was only one night. Last night."

"Wasn't last night fun?"

I saw her instantly blush. "Yeah. It was amazing."

"Then stay." I turned up the volume. The first quarter was just starting.

She looked down at her dress. "I didn't bring a change of clothes. I  think I should just call a cab." She laughed lightly. "I thought I was  past doing the walk of shame."

"Hold on." I hopped up from the couch and returned with a pair of boxers and one of my jerseys. I held it toward her.

"This?"

I nodded. "Try it on."

She grabbed the ensemble and walked into the bedroom. A few minutes  later, she returned, wearing my jersey and a pair of boxers with the  Wranglers logo on them. My heart almost beat out of my chest. The skimpy  black dress had nothing on this. She was fucking hot as hell in my  clothes.

She sat next to me. "This looks ridiculous."

I stared at her, trying to keep my cool. Trying to remind myself who the  fuck I was. "It's hot, Lennon. You're the sexiest woman I think I've  ever laid eyes on." The lines kept rolling off my tongue like I was some  damn love-struck teenager.

"There's nothing ridiculous about how you look right now."

"Really?"

She tucked her feet under her and curled up next to me. "Really." I nodded.

"All right. Teach me."

"What?" I had forgotten everything. Her breasts peeked through the deep  cut in the jersey, and I could see the pink little buds I had sucked so  hard last night. My cock was aching.

"The game." She pointed at the TV screen. "You said you were going to  teach me. I know absolutely nothing, so start from the beginning."

"Right. Football." I swallowed, tearing my eyes away from her tits. "All  right. The game is divided into two halves, and those are split into  two quarters each."

She was a surgeon. She was brilliant. Explaining football to her seemed  insane, but she listened intently as I went through the rules of the  game, the numbers of players, how the defensive and offensive teams were  set up. By the end, she was starting to get into it. There was a new  kind of light in her eye. The one of a fan.         

     



 

"How about a beer? You can't watch football without beer." I made my way to the kitchen.

"What? No, you can't drink on your pain medication." Her tone was instantly sharp.

I grabbed two bottles from the fridge. "Do you ever turn off being a doctor?" I twisted the cap off one and took a swig.

Her eyes narrowed. "Do you ever turn off being a football player?"

I chuckled, handing her the other bottle. "You don't have to worry. I  haven't had one of those pain pills in days. I don't like the stuff. I  don't like how they make me feel."

She looked doubtful. "But how is your hand feeling? Let me take a look at it."

Before I could protest, she had the sling off my shoulder and was  examining my fingers. She leaned closely to my wrist and I could feel  the warmth of her breath rolling over my skin. It was instinct as my  left hand twirled a strand of her hair between my fingers.

She looked up. "I think we need to get you back in for an earlier appointment."

"Why do you say that?"

"You haven't been taking care of this like you should, Wes. Your hand is  still swollen. I'm going to get ice." She pushed off the couch and  headed for the freezer, where she began to put together a makeshift  icepack.

"I wouldn't usually recommend ice this late after surgery, but you need  it." She touched the ice-wrapped in a towel-to my hand as I winced. "It  still hurts, doesn't it?"

"That means it's healing, right?" I searched her eyes for false hope. I needed these bones healed yesterday.

"Not necessarily." She reattached the sling across my shoulder and  cupped the ice on my wrist. "Twenty minutes of ice and then we'll give  you a break. No arguing." She eyed me.

"Yes, ma'am." I grinned, reaching for the beer.

"I feel bad about this, Wes."

"Why would you say that?"

She wouldn't look at me. "Because of last night. We probably reinjured your hand. I-I wasn't thinking about what we were doing."

I almost spit out my beer. "You think you hurt my hand? Believe me, I wasn't feeling any pain." I grinned.

"I'm being serious. It was wrong on a lot of levels. I should have been more careful about your injury."

"Hey, you didn't hurt my hand." I wanted to kiss the sad look off her  face. "Your kind of house call was what every patient needs."

"Well, it's not happening again." She folded her arms across her chest.  "This shows me how reckless it was. Having sex with a post-surgery  patient was irresponsible of me."

"Not happening again? You sure about that?" She had thrown a challenge  flag, whether she knew it or not. And Wes Blakefield never backed down  from a challenge.

"I'm completely sure." Her lips thinned into a straight line.

I looked at the screen and then at Lennon. "It's halftime, and I'm  feeling like I need the kind of medicine only you can give me."

She scooted away from me on the couch. "Well, you're not getting it."

"Oh, I think I am." I snagged the top of the boxers she was wearing and  slid them over her hips. They were loose on her thin body and easy to  discard.

"What are you doing?"