I remember what it felt like to touch that skin, to cup those round breasts in my hands. I loved tasting that skin, and often I still think of how it felt to make her come on my fingers, her sex clenching against my hand. Against my better wishes, my cock stiffens, and I bring my hand to it, absently stroking myself through my jeans. I imagine Renata, how she once was—how our bodies fit together, how we made each other come, how we made each other wait.
I contemplate taking my cock out of my jeans and stroking myself while I watch her work. But before I get my fly undone, she gets up from her hammock and walks in my direction, looking up at the porch balcony, perhaps wondering if it’s me she sees standing there, watching her.
My pulse quickens, and I pull my shirt out of my jeans to cover my cock, stumbling over to the door, just in time to greet her.
I open the door for her, trying to appear casual. “Renata, what a nice surprise.” I paste on a smile and watch her hips sway as she walks in. Her presence lights up the room, and the motion of her body makes me want her even more. Even in her simple summer outfit, she’s positively stunning, her skin glowing with the heat of the day.
I want to take her in my arms right then and there, but she steps away from me as soon as she’s inside, one of my leather chairs between her body and mine.
Good. There’s less of a chance she’ll see your enormous boner.
“I just got off the phone with Eddie… and apparently he’s a little more involved in the process than we thought.”
“Color me surprised,” I say, crossing my arms. I’ve been thinking about Eddie and his involvement with this whole thing all day. Even if Kinley seems like the answer, it’s an answer that leaves me with a few too many questions. “He’s left me a few messages that make me think the same thing.”
Renata sighs and puts her hand to her head like she’s exasperated. “Okay, Mack. Great. You need to tell me these things when they happen.”
“You’re the one who put the no-contact clause into your contract.”
“And you’re the one who’s violated that clause. I don’t see why you didn’t see fit to violate that clause when you had information you could easily figure out I might need!” Her voice rises in volume, and I watch as her breasts heave in her shirt. That insistent boner of mine won’t quiet down, so I walk back behind my sofa and clear my throat for no reason other than the fact that Renata’s making me nervous.
“You were right though, about the effect it would have. Eddie’s planning on giving me a raise, or at least he says he is.” She gives me a sideways look like she’s considering something, like there are emotions brewing just below the surface. “You were right,” I repeat.
“That’s interesting.” She bites her lip and looks at me. “Eddie says he’s hell bent on this engagement going through. That’s what he said on the phone, that it’s essential for his family, and for the team. It doesn’t sound like any of the other deals I’ve made with sports stars…”
I balk at the words, gut roiling. The word has been toyed with, bandied about, but a real engagement isn’t something I want. And it isn’t something Kinley wants either… is it? I know she tried to make the moves on me. I know she takes this relationship thing sort of seriously, but she’s just as much of a flirt as I am, if the media has anything to do with it.
“And Kinley says it’ll be good for the tour. She’s competing against Taylor Swift, or so she says. And an engagement will get people engaged in her music.”
“In her mind, she’s competing against Taylor Swift. I don’t think that woman knows who the hell Kinley is. Kinley’s tickets are like ten times cheaper. And her music is shit. I really thought this whole thing would be over at the beginning of the season.” I don’t like the look on Renata’s face—usually she looks so certain when she works her public relations magic. Instead, she just looks doubtful and sad.
“It’s not the beginning of the season yet. Eddie’s said in no uncertain terms that he will fire you if you don’t go through with an engagement party, at the very least.” Renata chews on her lip, looking sexy and vulnerable as she stands there before me. Even in the midst of all this madness, she looks good enough to fucking eat. And by God, I would.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. A surge of emotion rises in me. I’ve been playing this game, doing all of this dancing around, and it’s gotten me nothing but further away from the one thing I really want. The words are on the tip of my tongue, and finally, this time, they come pouring out. “She ain’t the woman I want, Ren. None of this is something I want. To be clear, I haven’t slept with her, and I’m not planning on it. The moment you showed your face here, I was reminded of what a real woman is—”