Running Game(28)

I’d rushed out of Jesse’s penthouse as if I didn’t have a job I needed to keep. I’d let him get under my skin. I’d weakened and let him too close.

For Maddy’s sake, I had to keep my job… Even if it meant I had to endure him rattling my cage from the inside out.

For Maddy’s sake, I’d do whatever it took to keep our foundation from crumbling beneath our feet, because without that, we had nothing.

But there was more than just motherly duty building inside me. That stupid kiss had woken up a piece of me that I thought was gone forever. For the first time in a long time, it felt like I might not have to face everything alone. Maybe I could tell Jesse my secret… Maybe I could make him understand.





17





JESSE





She was thirty minutes late. For a moment there, I was beginning to think she wasn’t going to show… But she did.

She knocked on the door and shuffled into the room like it was the last place on Earth she wanted to be.

Instead of taking offense to it, I let it motivate me.

That kiss had spoken volumes, and I wasn’t about to let her deny that, to pretend it wasn’t real.

“Sorry I’m late,” she muttered, avoiding my eye. “My car broke down. I had to call a cab.”

“That’s okay, no big deal,” I said, giving her plenty of mental space. I was determined to wear her down, but I was going to do it slowly. Obviously, my quick moves yesterday had backfired. I’d gotten a little ahead of myself.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied, sitting on the couch next to me. “It might be time for a new car. It’s on its last leg. Shall we get started?”

She was acting like nothing had happened yesterday. I played along, for now at least.

“Sure, sure,” I replied.

“Let’s start on the floor,” she said, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making a joke.

“Okay, sure,” I replied, attempting to stand up. She saw me struggling and rushed to my side, putting my arm around her shoulders and helping me to my feet.

“Here we go,” she said, as she helped me over to the mat she’d placed on the floor. I laid down on it, and she began moving my leg in circles.

“How’s it feel today?” she asked, her voice soft in my empty apartment.

“A little better every day,” I said.

“Good, good,” she replied. “I’m going to do some gentle stretching now.”

She stood over me, my left leg in her hands as she pushed my thigh up towards my body. She rolled my knee in small circles, then moving to bigger ones in a few moments. Silently, I stared up at her, making a mental note of how happy I was that she’d left her hair down again today. I remembered the feel of her curls in my hands yesterday and my cock instantly sprang to life. I reached down, covering it with my hands, hoping to hide it before she noticed.

If she saw it, she pretended she didn’t, which was just as well because I knew if her eyes fell on it, it would just grow more. Never had a woman had this effect on me.

“So you’ve made it this far in your career without any other serious injuries,” she said. “How did you do that?”

“I’ve never been injured on the field. Nobody can touch me, that’s why.”

“So you’re just that good, huh?” she asked.

“Don’t you know? Have you ever watched me play?”

“Nope,” she smiled, and I felt a twinge of disappointment. I wanted her to know how good I was. Football was the one thing I was the very best at. “But I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks, right?”

“Well, I definitely earn every dollar,” I said, laughing. “I’m out there week after week with a dozen of the biggest baddest men on the planet trying to kill me. And every single one of them is fucking good at what they do.”

“And I guess that makes you some kind of hero?” She laughed, stretching my leg into my torso again. She was so close I could smell her, and I inhaled deeply, drinking in the sweet scent of her.

“So, I guess you’re not impressed,” I replied teasingly.

She looked down at me pensively for a moment before replying.

“I’m not here to be impressed, Jesse. You can save that effort for your fans. I’m here to help you heal.”

“Right,” I replied, contemplating my next move. After a few moments, I couldn’t help myself. “So tell me what it takes to get you to go out with me again.”

“What it takes? Well, nothing, because it’s not going to happen.”

“Even for an old friend?”

“You’re not my friend. You’re my client, my patient.”