Hot Damn(65)

Her fingers dig into my hair, her nails scratching my scalp. “God, Austin. Austin. We can’t—”

But of course we can, and I keep thrusting into her, finally sliding a finger inside, then two, then, just to see if I can, three. It’s tight, but she’s so slick it barely matters. And while I’m shoving into her with damn near my whole hand, I stroke my tongue up her cunt, over her clit, and she falls to pieces under me.

Her panting gasps are loud and stuttery, and I resist the urge to lay a hand over her mouth. Okay, yes, part of me is a little worried somebody will walk in. Not because I’m afraid anybody will say anything to me, but because I know Chloe’s worried about it. Instead I lean up and kiss her, deep and hard, stroking my tongue into her mouth, letting her taste her own arousal.

She’s still shaking with the aftershocks of her orgasm; I can feel it as I slide a hand over the curve of her hip. Suddenly she stiffens against me. I hear it at the same time—the sound of voices rising in the hallway that leads to the locker room. The guys are coming in from practice.

I grab her pants for her, drawing them back up into place. I get her sorted, but I don’t bother about myself. As long as she’s dressed, we’re good. Nobody’s going to think twice about me being naked in the locker room. Besides, I’ve got my shorts on. And if they look a little wet—well, I was just in the ice bath, right?

Still, I glance down, hoping there’s no cum clinging to the fabric. The voices are getting closer. Glancing at Chloe, I realize there’s no disguising the mussed hair, the kiss-swollen lips. I wipe my own mouth with the back of my hand. I’m probably visibly wet from her juices.

Dammit.

I remind myself I don’t care. Except I do. A little. But just for Chloe.

I hear the guys coming into the locker room, but we’re still okay back here in the training area. Until one guy wanders in, glancing around. He’s in a button-down shirt and slacks, and I vaguely recognize him as the PT who’s working with one of the defensemen. Chloe stiffens next to me, and I know this is Very Much Not Good.

“Shit. It’s Roger,” she mutters. So he’s the one who’s gunning for her. I scrape him with a look. He’s not so much. I could take him. If he gives Chloe any shit, I probably will.

Roger returns my look with a smirk, and then glances at Chloe. Automatically, without thinking about it, I touch her arm reassuringly. Roger notices, and his smirk deepens. I do not like this man. In fact, I dislike him intensely.

His attention returns to me, and I stiffen. He leers.

“So. You pay extra for that, or is she including it in the base fees?”

Fury rises so fast I can’t stop it, and for a second my vision turns red. I’m not even sure what I’m doing until Chloe grabs my arm, jerking me back. I’m at least a full step closer to Roger the Sleazeball. Only her small fingers on my biceps are stopping me.

“Don’t,” she says in a low voice. “He’s not worth it.”

Roger’s eyes narrow. “Not worth it, huh?” There’s a genuine rage behind his words.

What is this guy’s problem?

“At least now I know why you get the choice assignments. Cause you’re sucking everybody’s dick.”

“Roger—” Her tone is conciliatory, but I know already that’s not going to work with this asshole. He’s not the type to be placated.

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Why? Because she’s fucking you? Everybody knows the only way she even got back into the business was by showing her tits and getting on her knees for anybody she had to.”

Now Chloe’s getting angry. Those bright red spots have risen on her face, and her mouth is a tight, hard line. “That’s not true—”

Again, I cut her off. “You apologize. Right now.”

“Or what?” He’s mocking me now, like he really thinks I won’t pound him into a pile of squishy red sludge if he doesn’t shut his fucking mouth. “You’re going to hit me? Huh? You really think you can get away with that?”

I lunge another step forward, but again Chloe’s small hand holds me back. I could break free of her in a hot second if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. Instead I glare down at Roger and grate between clenched teeth, “I can get away with anything I damn well please. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Who do you think the rest of the team is going to believe if something happens right now? Who do you think the press is going to believe?”

He actually looks vaguely deflated at this. I can see him swallow a couple of times. “You lay one finger on me, and I guess we’ll find out.”

I’m about ready to lay a whole lot more than one finger on him, Chloe be damned, when a few of my teammates meander in, ready to hit the bikes for post-practice cool down. A few guys give him a look like they know he’s trouble. Some of my teammates grew up in not-so-great neighborhoods—they can tell when a guy’s just itching to start something.

One of them—Peterson, the guy Roger’s been working on, I’m pretty sure—gives Roger a look, then glances at me. “Everything okay here?”

Roger spins, stabbing backward toward me with a finger. “She’s sucking his cock.”

Peterson looks taken aback. He looks at me, at Chloe, then back at Roger. His posture shifts, and it’s all I can do not to laugh. Roger has picked the wrong guy to try to win over to his side.

“Looks to me like they’re both just standing there,” Peterson says.

Roger’s face starts to go red and pale at the same time, which is interesting to say the least. He’s got high scarlet patches on his cheekbones and grey shadows just under them.

“Is that what you want?” He glances around, trying to draw in other members of the team. Several more have wandered in, and most of them are standing with their arms crossed, looking at him like he’s a cockroach who just slithered in off the street.

“What the fuck you talking about?” Peterson asks.

“You want a talentless bitch like her working on your star receiver? You really think for a half-second she knows anything about getting him in shape in time for the championship?”

Peterson takes a single step forward. Roger has the good sense to move backward. “You want to take that back, you little punk?”

Roger swallows. Peterson’s just staring at him. The other guys are like a wall behind him, wide and solid. The arms crossed over their chests are the size of Roger’s waist. Roger’s eyes get crazy, like he’s desperate to get someone to back him up. Nobody seems to be taking him up on the offer.

“You really think—” he starts, and Peterson reaches out and grabs him by the collar.

“No!” says Chloe, but I reach back to block her. She stops, but I can feel her shaking against my forearm.

“What I think is that you need to shut the fuck up,” Peterson snarls. He glances over his shoulder. “Am I right, guys?”

“Yep.” There’s a staggered chorus of voices, a unanimous series of nods.

“What I also think,” Peterson continues, “is that you’re going to apologize right now to Doc Chloe and to Sherwood, and then I’m going to call your boss and ask for a PT who isn’t a little bitch. That sound like a plan?”

“What the fuck are you—” Roger starts, but Peterson’s fist tightens on his collar.

“Do you know what apologize means?”

Roger is silent. After a long exchange of glares, Peterson lets him go. Roger still doesn’t say anything.

“Apologize means say you’re fucking sorry,” someone pipes up from the group in the back.

“How stupid are you?” another voice adds.

I can see Roger’s closed fists shaking. He clenches his teeth. Finally, he turns partially toward me. “I’m sorry.”

“Damn fucking straight you are,” I snap back. “Get the fuck out of here.”

He looks like he has more to say, but for once he exhibits some intelligence and doesn’t say it. Instead he turns and leaves the room.

Immediately, the tension in the room disappears. A couple of guys, including Peterson, step toward Chloe and me and ask if we’re okay. Peterson makes an extra effort to check on Chloe, which I appreciate even while it sends a stab of jealousy through me.

“It’s okay, Doc,” he tells her.

I turn back toward her. “Damn straight it’ll be okay. We’ll take this guy down. No way I’m letting him fuck with you.”

Chloe nods, but her face is tight. Abruptly, it crumples. She’s on the verge of tears.

Shit.

“No, it won’t, Austin. It really won’t.”

She brushes past me and walks the gauntlet of half-naked football players back outside.





Chapter 9





Chloe





I’m so fired.

It’s inevitable at this point, but I keep my phone off. I can’t bear hearing the disappointment in Dr. Richard’s voice. Especially since it is all my fault.

Seriously, what did I expect would happen?

My hands ball the tissue paper into a fist as I imagine Roger’s gloating smile. See? I told you she was unprofessional. I can picture him leaning against the wall, a thin-lipped smirk carved into his fat cheeks, his beady eyes narrowed in malevolence. He’ll probably break into applause when I clean out my desk.