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Running Game(29)

By:Nikki Wild


“I don’t have to be your patient,” I said, shrugging.

Her face fell instantly and she looked down at me in a panic.

“Please don’t,” she said, her voice suddenly high and frantic. “I’m so sorry about yesterday, Jesse. I shouldn’t have slapped you. You caught me off guard.”

“Relax, Maisey, I’m not going anywhere.” The panicked look in her eyes unnerved me. But then I remembered her car had broken down, she probably had lots of other everyday problems and expenses that she was dealing with. Losing me as a patient might have far reaching consequences that I hadn’t even considered.

“Sorry, Maisey,” I said, reaching out and putting my hand on her arm. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking away from me.

“And about yesterday,” I began, as she stretched my leg again, bringing her face inches from mine. She looked into my eyes, her lips so close to mine I could feel the heat of her sweet breath. “That kiss…”

“Yes?” she murmured softly, as she pulsed my leg towards my body again.

“You can’t just deny what we have together Maisey,” I said, her gaze glued to mine. “I don’t want to be your damn friend or your patient. You didn’t come walking back into my life by accident. You’re here, and this is supposed to happen…”

“You think getting hit by a car was fate?” She said, letting out a little laugh.

“I think I’d step in front of another one if it meant I could spend more time with you…” I replied. She didn’t blink. She stopped breathing. She was just looking at me, her mouth slightly open, begging me to take it again.

I know I said I was going to go slow. But there she was. So fucking close to me. How could I not reach out for her? How could I not touch her? I was human.

I was a fucking man.

I certainly was no idiot, and I knew exactly what that look in her eye meant.

She felt it too. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was drunk on testosterone and adrenaline.

But maybe, just maybe, I was right this time. There was only one way to find out, and if it ended up with me being slapped again, so be it.

I reached up and caressed her cheek gently, cupping my palm and pulling her towards me.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Maisey. Tell me you don’t feel anything. Tell me to stop and I’ll never touch you again,” I whispered, staring into her big beautiful eyes.

She lifted her chin slightly as our lips crashed into each other. She let go of my leg and it drifted to the floor. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into me, and to my surprise, she didn’t resist. She didn’t tense up. She melted against me, her body falling on top of mine as our kiss deepened and the world melted away.





18





MAISEY





I gave up. Or, maybe I gave in. Maybe I knew all along I was going to. Maybe the fighting in my head was just so I could say that I tried. That I tried to resist him. That I tried to do the right thing. That I tried to keep my feelings in check, to not let my feelings for him ruin everything.

And I did try.

But it was useless. With one look and just a few words, he obliterated every brick I’d laid between us. With one touch of his lips, all my resistance faded away, all my good intentions succumbed to his charm, to my irresistible desire for him.

His kisses were like a warm, burning light that I couldn’t look away from. He kissed me like he’d done it forever, as if my lips belonged to him, not me. He touched me with such confidence, as if he knew everything my body wanted before I even knew it myself.

Sure, all the while he was kissing me, while his arms wrapped around me, and I let my body rest on his while we moved together like starving lovers, I wrestled with myself. I wrestled with right and wrong, but I’d already done it so much, the arguments were old, outdated, and totally weak in the face of his sweet, sweet assault.

They were no match for his confidence, his dominance, his cockiness that I somehow found so attractive, I wanted to drink it in. If only I had that same strength, maybe I could resist him. But I didn’t. I submitted.

Because there was nothing else for me to do. He knew I was his before I did.

But once I finally gave in? Once I convinced myself it would be alright, that it was just this one time, and then we could move on? We just had to do it once, get it over with, and then that intense attraction would become something we could deny again, become something manageable.

But the force I felt in that moment, pulling me towards him, pushing my body against his? There was no denying it, no turning away from it, no running out on it this time.

He was right… I felt something…