Chapter 14

Fourteen

Rowan

I'm at our workout facility, lifting weights as I do every morning, but in reality, I'm killing time before Leigh texts me. For the past two weeks, we've developed a routine. An unhealthy one where we see each other every day. One where most of our time together is in bed, or against a wall, or with her on a counter or bent over a piece of furniture.

This obsession I have with her can't be healthy, but I can't seem to find it in myself to care.

I'm grabbing a set of dumbbells when I spot Easton Bailey, the shortstop for the Chicago Colts, walk in. He's one of Jagger's clients too.

"Hey, man. My season is about to end, and yours is about to begin." He chuckles and drops his bag on the floor, then sits on the bench.

"Plan a vacation yet?" I ask, putting down the dumbbells and sitting on the bench across from him.

Easton Bailey is newer to Chicago too. He's spent only a few seasons on the Colts. The best part of my apartment is being able to see him play from the rooftop. There's a reason he won the Gold Glove award last year. His fielding is spectacular. Chicago loved him as soon as he stepped on the field. I know Miles Cavanaugh didn't have the same luck when he came to play football for the Grizzlies. Chicago fans are hard to win over.

"I'm gonna head home to Alaska first."

"Had enough sunlight?"

He chuckles. "Yeah, and the Chicago winter isn't cold enough for me."

"I'm sure the moose and the polar bears miss you."

He shakes his head. I'm sure it's not the first time someone's made a joke at his expense about him being from Alaska.

"You should come visit. There's always room in our igloo."

I laugh and run a towel down my face. "Let me know which dog sled to take, and I'm there."

"Fuck you," he says, taking off his ball cap and running a hand through his hair. "If I knew where you were from, I'd give it back to you."

I cover my heart with my hand. "That hurts. You don't care enough to know where I grew up?"

"Sorry. I'm not a puck bunny who knows your favorite color and favorite meal."

"Bailey!" Tweetie comes in, always one to make an entrance, and I see Henry behind him.

Ever since school started, it's like we have Henry back. I'm not complaining about trips to Six Flags and the zoo with Bodhi, but I'm sure it's nice for him to have some adult time. Then again, I'm not a dad, so maybe he's upset Bodhi's in school.

"Oh hell, I swear you have a tracker on me," Easton says. He thumbs over his shoulder. "This guy shows up at the club I'm at last weekend, sliding into my VIP, drinking all my alcohol."

Tweetie claps him on the shoulder. "You should be thanking me. That girl you left with was one I brought into the VIP area."

Easton scoffs. "You're acting like I don't have game. She was eyeing me all night."

"Because you're Easton fucking Bailey. Every girl in the place was eyeing you at least once. I mean, after they saw the redhead at my side."

Easton smirks and shakes his head at me. "That ego needs to be taken down a few rungs."

I roll my eyes. "Tell me about it. He lives above me."

"Shit, I'd be worried the floor was going to give." Easton grins.

Henry sits next to me while Tweetie stands in front of the mirror, flexing. He kisses both of his biceps. If I didn't know the guy, I'd probably hate him. But he's joking, and he's been a great friend and teammate to me so far.

"You think I'm the bad neighbor, Bailey? You should hear the moans coming from Magic's place lately. He's about to nail down a girl he met at a wedding."

"Screw you." I shake my head at Easton to not believe Tweetie.

"You're never available anymore, and I know you're with her." Tweetie gives me a look inviting me to tell him he's wrong.

"You sound like a jealous girlfriend," Henry says, moving toward the weights.

"I'm a jealous friend. You're raising a kid, he was my wingman." Tweetie thumbs at me.

I point at Easton. "Guess you're his wingman now."

Easton holds up his hands and shakes his head. "Fuck no. I can't keep up with the old man."

"Old? Who the fuck are you calling old?" Tweetie poses like a bodybuilder, and we all laugh.

"Tell me you don't do that in front of the women," Henry says. "I can see you naked and flexing like it's going to turn her on."

I fall back laughing because the vision is clear in my head.

"There's only one thing I need to flex, and let's just say the response I usually get is that it won't fit."

"Are you sure they're not thinking, where is it?" Henry bobs his head right and left as if he's looking for something.

"Fuck off, Daddy. A woman would have to dust off cobwebs to see your dick."

Easton's head volleys back and forth between them. I'm sure it's the same with his teammates and the ball busting.

"When was your last STI test?" Henry raises an eyebrow.

"Do I need to put you in separate corners?" Easton asks, standing and putting his hands out like a referee.

They both laugh.

"Shit no, Tweetie would go ballistic in a ring," I say.

Tweetie flexes his shoulders, happy for what he sees as a compliment. "It's all in brotherly love, right, Daddy?"

"Sure. I gotta get to working out before I have to pick up Bodhi. You done, Rowan, or are you staying?"

I look at the clock and see that it's getting close to my time with Leigh. "Nah, I'm out. You three have fun." I turn to Easton. "When Tweetie starts foaming at the mouth, it's time to call the police."

"Gotcha." He gives me a mock salute.

"Go have fun with your regular pussy," Tweetie says, flipping me off, but I head to the locker room, ignoring him.

I pull out my cell phone.

On my way.

At Ruby's.

I'll swing down to get you first.

Perfect.

I'm on my stomach on my bed, and Leigh is straddling me, her ass on my ass and her hands massaging my shoulders and back. My shoulder's been sore, and I winced during sex, so she told me she'd give me a massage.

"Are you looking forward to the season?" she asks.

My cheek rests on my hands and the silky smoothness of her palms feels so much better than any trainer's hands. "Honestly?"

"If you want to tell me."

"It's a little nerve-racking."

She runs her hands down the sides of my ribs and back up, digging the heels of her palms into my muscles.

"You're feeling the pressure?" she asks.

I nod but don't answer.

"Everyone loves you. Chicago can't wait to see what you can do during a full season for the team." She kisses the back of my neck. It's a gesture that would've scared me a couple weeks ago, but today feels oddly comforting.

"Until I fuck up. Until I don't do my job. Until I don't get them the Cup they're expecting at the end of the season. I was traded late last season, so the team's fate was pretty much already sealed. This season, everyone's going to be looking at me to make sure we end up where we want to."

She sighs as if she's watching one of those dog commercials where they talk about them being abused and not fed. Why the fuck did I admit that to her?

"There's a reason you were traded here. There's a reason they believe in you. I'm sure all the pressure you're feeling is hard to deal with, but you've already bonded with your teammates, built the chemistry between you, and you're getting a fresh start when the puck drops on that first game. You're going to be fine."

I roll over but hold her hips to keep her on top of me. "You sound like you know hockey."

A look crosses her face, but it vanishes too quickly for me to ask. "Just good at pep talks, I guess," she shrugs.

I run my hands up the sides of her torso. "Your turn now."

She shakes her head. "I'm good."

"I want my hands on you, and you're probably sore, so this way we both get pleasure."

She giggles, slides off my lap, and rolls onto her stomach on my bed. I get up on my knees, crawling between her legs. I bend one and lift it up in the air, kissing her ankle.

"This isn't like the normal massages I get."

I chuckle and continue a path up her leg. "It's a special one."

"Does it have a happy ending?"

"That'll be extra." I kiss all the way up her leg before lowering it and grabbing her other ankle.

"What if I leave a big tip?"

"Trying to swindle yourself a deal?" I ask, twisting her ankle to inspect her tattoo.

It's a black anchor on the side of her ankle. It's little, but sexy.

"Why an anchor?" I ask, moving my lips up her legs. Every inch of her is delicious and addictive.

"I went through a rough patch in college. My friends all went to a tattoo parlor. I wasn't going to get one, but then I started looking. One of the artists came over and I was talking to him and said that if I got one, I wanted something with significance. Not just something I picked out from a book. He asked me a few questions and brought up the anchor when I said I was considering dropping out of school. It just felt right."

"Why? What does it mean?"

She sighs. I'm not sure if she doesn't want to tell me or if it's because my lips are on her inner thigh now. "For me, it's about resilience and getting through the tough times. A reminder that I'll get through them."

"May I ask what the tough time was back then?"

I know I shouldn't. It's not my business when we're just messing around with one another, so if she says no, I can't fault her.

"I wasn't making it in college. I felt lost at my drawing board. Like I shouldn't be there. I had no fresh ideas. My professors kept calling me in and asking what the problem was. I didn't think I had what it takes."

I hate that I have to ask her the next question because though I could sculpt her pussy from memory, I have no idea how she supports herself. "What did you go to school for?"

She laughs, and I move up to massage her back. I've never really given a massage to anyone, but her muscles feel tense and constricted.

"Sorry, that's weird. I guess I never told you. I went to school for fashion design."

"That's impressive. So, you're creative, huh?"

"I'm not sure about that anymore. But yeah."

I should offer some advice like she gave me a second ago. We're both clearly at a point of our lives where the uncertainty of the world we live in has us feeling a little off balance. "Are you struggling with a design or direction?"

She doesn't say anything at first, and I watch her back rise and fall with a big breath. "I guess so."

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Again, I'm met with silence, so I continue to do what I do best for her and distract her from the outside world like she does for me.

"Are you sore?" I whisper in her ear.

She rolls over to face me. "No."

"Perfect." I grab a condom from my dresser and allow us both to forget our worries.

I've never felt more found than being lost in her.