Lady and the Champ(18)

As if to confirm Genevieve’s statement, Emma starts to cry. When Genevieve eases her from Chloe’s grip, the crying rises to a strident wail.

“Oh honey, I bet you’ve just got a nap hangover,” Chloe offers as she pats Emma’s back.

“She will be fine,” Genevieve says, and then gives me another look.

Don’t worry. I’m on it.

Chloe makes a sound with her tongue. “Poor thing.”

“She and Genevieve get along great.” I pause. “She just…really seems to like you.”

“I like her, too.”

We watch as Genevieve buckles Emma into her car seat, and then we wave as she drives away. The sound of the car’s engine fades as it disappears from view. Silence hovers between us like an electric cloud.

I fall into step beside Chloe as she walks back to her car, our footsteps echoing in the deserted parking lot. A breeze plays with her hair, tossing black strands over her face. She stops and turns around, her pink lips parted. Her pleading eyes tug at my heart. Before she can say anything, I take her arms and crowd her back against the driver’s side door.

“Austin—” she starts, but I cut her off with my mouth on hers. Whatever she was going to say, she tries to still say it, but it disappears against my tongue.

I can taste the coffee in her mouth, and I press closer. My hands go to her waist and then slide under the edge of her shirt. Her skin is warm and soft, and I want more of it under my hands. Her breasts mound against my chest as she presses closer, and then she utters a soft moan in my mouth.

She kisses me back, digging her fingernails into the back of my neck. Every touch of her soft lips is like a small explosion, bursting fire across my chest. I’m going to yank her inside that car to rip off every strip of clothing.

She pulls back as though she heard my thoughts. “We can’t. We really can’t.”

I stroke her hair from her slightly swollen lips, looking down into her eyes. God, she’s so beautiful. “Sure we can. No one from work is here.”

She pushes me away, but she’s not trying very hard, and I don’t move. Her tits are still smashed against me, and I reach up, stroking the side of one. We’re in broad daylight, but there’s nobody around, and we’re so close together I doubt anybody could see what I’m doing anyway.

“We both could benefit from a little fun.”

She shakes her head, looking anywhere but at me. “I can’t get involved with you.”

“Look, Chloe.” I manage to ease my fingers under the curve of her breast, stroking. “It doesn’t have to be serious. We don’t have to get engaged, for God’s sake. We can just have some fun. No strings.”

“No strings?”

“Yeah. I think you need some fun. Something that’ll take you out of your head and let you relax. Like…dragging you into the back seat of this car right now.”

She licks her lips. “It’s not a good idea. If Dr. Richards found out…”

“Nobody will find out. I promise.”

I can sense her barriers starting to fall. She wants me. She might even want me as much as I want her. I tip my hips closer so she can feel my erection. Her eyes drift half closed, then snap open.

“How long has it been?” I murmur against her ear. “How long since you’ve had a big, thick cock inside you?”

“Years,” she breathes.

Damn. I would’ve thought a woman as hot as her could’ve bagged a man in a matter of days.

“Let me have you. I’ll take you in that backseat right now and strip off all your clothes. I’ll worship your body, and then I’ll fuck the memory of that jackass out of you. You’ll feel a tingle in your pussy every time you think of football players.”

She’s just looking at me now, pupils blown, her breaths coming fast. I lean in a little and bite her lower lip.

“Think about it. You’ve got all the power here. All you have to do is tell Coach I can’t play in the championship game, and I’m fucked to hell and back.”

“Austin, I have to go.” Her voice is quiet, shaky. But it’s shaky with need, not with fear.

I’ve got her just about where I want her. I take a step back, and she turns to open her car door.

“Think about it,” I tell her again.

She looks at me, and then slides into the car without saying anything.





7





Chloe





I was so close.

I’ll worship your body, and then I’ll fuck the memory of that jackass out of you.

A violent shiver runs through me as though he’s standing right behind me, his hand touching my waist as he whispers filthy promises into my ear. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I left him yesterday in that parking lot. I was so flustered that I forgot to bring Austin’s paperwork home for his next session.

The office is quiet—it usually is on the weekends. The air-conditioning rattles over my head, pouring a steady stream of cool air. I let it blast over my limbs, hoping that it’ll freeze my attraction for Austin and stop the lewd thoughts running through my mind.

How long has it been since you’ve had a big, thick cock inside you?

Long enough that I’ve spent every spare second fantasizing about having my legs wrapped around him. I’ve been through several sets of batteries with my vibrator, and my thighs are still wet.

You’re seeing him in an hour.

Swearing, I focus on searching for Austin’s paperwork. Slamming the drawers hard feels good, until it reminds me of sex. Damn it. I could have sworn I put Austin’s records in my active patients file, in alphabetical order like always, but they’re not there. What the hell did I do with them? Usually I’m meticulous about that kind of thing, to the point my co-workers give me shit about it.

I head out to the front desk to take a look, just in case. Just as I get behind the desk, Roger meanders out from one of the back rooms.

Great. Just who I wanted to see.

His thin lips pull into a taut leer as he notices me. It’s incredible creepy. “Fancy seeing you here.”

I make a grunting noise to acknowledge his presence.

“I had an emergency appointment. You?”

“Picking up Sherwood’s paperwork.” I sort through the folders on the desk, but I don’t see Austin’s name on any of them. “Can’t seem to find it, though.”

I head back toward my cubicle. Maybe I just missed them. Roger follows me like an annoying terrier-sized dog, yapping at me all the way. I push my chair from the desk to block Roger from crowding me, but he moves it aside.

Ugh. I can smell the sweat on him.

Roger tries to casually lean his arm on the fragile walls of my cubicle, nearly falling over in the process. He recovers quickly as I stifle a laugh.

“How’s that going? Sherwood behaving, or is he still giving you trouble?”

Lots of trouble.

“He’s okay. I spoke too soon about him.” I glance through the folders where I’m pretty sure I left Austin’s information, but I’m still not seeing it. Where the hell did I put it? “He’s not so bad, really.”

“Not so bad? Didn’t you tell me he hit on you?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. Chloe, he might be a big client, but that’s not okay.”

This isn’t any of his damn business. “I can handle Sherwood just fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to go through this. I’ll tell Dr. Richards, and you won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

I move the chair in between us again. The wheels stub his toe, and he curses. “Don’t pretend to be my white knight.”

“I was just offering!”

“You were offering to take Sherwood off my hands, one of the biggest clients this practice has ever seen. How convenient.”

Roger swells like a bullfrog. “I’m trying to be nice, and you’re being a—”

“He’s my client, you jackass! I’m not handing him off to anyone! I know what I’m doing.”

His lip curls, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to say something rude, sexist, and annoying, but instead he just reaches past the folders I’m looking at and pulls out one from next to the computer keyboard.

“This what you’re looking for?”

I grab it from him, blinking. “How did you know that was there? And why wasn’t it where I left it?”

He’s been in my office.

The realization hits me like a slap across the face. The smirk he levels at me confirms it.

“Dr. Richards asked me to look over your work. Wants me to check up on you, be sure you’re not missing anything.”

“Why would I be missing anything?” I snap back. “And why would Dr. Richards have you looking at my work? He picked me for this job.”

“Give me a break. You were picked because the Champ wanted the hottest girl in the office rubbing him down.”

For a moment I think I might do something stupid, like punch him in the face.

“Get out of my space.”

“Fine.” But he’s still smirking when the door closes behind him.



I’m still shaking as I sit in the car in the driveway, trying to settle my nerves.

It’ll be fine.

No, it won’t.

Nausea hits the back of my throat as I look through my car’s dirty windshield at Austin’s mansion. The awful feeling that I’m doing something wrong—that I’m not good enough to be his physical therapist—surges in my mouth like vomit. It’s two years ago, when all the headlines blazed with things like: Mason’s PT To Blame For Injury and Irresponsible PT Fired. Those headlines almost ruined my life. They were the reason for the piles of hate mail on my doorstep, the vicious phone calls. I had to move because of him. I had to change my phone number because of him. Everything in my life was dictated by what he had done to me, the lies he’d spun to the press. And I had no money to sue him, so he got away with destroying my career.