Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

TRAVIS

T he hum of the clinic was a familiar backdrop to my day, but today, every sound seemed amplified—the tap of fingers on keyboards, the rustle of patients shifting on treatment beds, and the soft murmur of Parker's voice as he instructed Mrs. Henley on her exercises. I tried to focus on the chart in front of me, but my gaze kept wandering over to where he stood, the sunlight from the window casting a halo around his head, like he truly was an angel.

"Travis, are you with us?" Justin's teasing voice snapped me back to reality. I looked up to find my office manager eyeing me with an amused smirk.

"Uh, yeah. Where else would I be," I replied, though we both knew my attention was elsewhere. "Just reviewing the Henderson case."

"Uh-huh," he said, not buying it for a second. His eyes flicked towards Parker before returning to me with a knowing look. I gave him a glare that I hoped conveyed "drop it," and thankfully, he did.

"Mr. Brooks?" The uncertain voice of my next patient pulled me out from under Justin's scrutiny. I plastered on my best professional smile and turned toward the young athlete who had been rehabbing a knee injury for the past month.

"Right here, Jeremy. Let's see how that knee is holding up today," I said, all business now. As we walked towards the treatment area, I couldn't help but steal a glance at Parker, catching him observing us with a small, secretive smile. Our eyes met, and the connection was instant, a silent conversation in a crowded room.

"Everything feels a lot better," Jeremy was saying, and I locked back into therapist mode. "I think I'm ready to get back on the field."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I cautioned, even as my peripheral vision betrayed me, drawn to the way Parker leaned down to adjust Mrs. Henley's ankle weights. His movements were precise, his touch gentle—qualities I had become intimately familiar with.

"Focus, Travis," I muttered to myself, turning my full attention back to Jeremy and guiding him through a series of stability exercises. I corrected his posture, praised his progress, and made a few notes in his chart. But the moment Jeremy was settled into his routine, I found myself searching for Parker once more.

Our game of covert glances continued, each look a promise of things to come, charging the air with anticipation. It was ridiculous, really—we were grown men acting like teenagers—but I didn't care. There was something exhilarating about this secret dance we were engaged in.

As the day wore on, the clinic began to empty, the bustle giving way to a quieter atmosphere. I was finishing up some documentation when Parker knocked softly on my office door.

"Everyone's getting ready to leave for the day," he said, his voice low as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"Is that so?" I asked, leaning back in my chair, trying to maintain a semblance of control over my overwhelming desire to pull him close.

"Yep," he replied casually, strolling towards me. "Just thought I'd check to see if you need me to do anything else before we head out."

"Actually," I started, my voice thick with arousal. "There is something."

He stopped just short of my desk, the growing tension between us, a tangible thing. Then, with a swift movement, I was out of my chair, and we collided in a heat of urgency. Our lips met in a stolen kiss, fervent and hasty, as if we were making up for lost time.

"God, I've wanted to do that all day," he breathed against my mouth, and I responded by deepening the kiss, my hands finding their way into his hair.

"Me too," I admitted, our kiss slowing, turning tender and exploratory. We savored the taste of one another, the feel of lips and teeth and tongue in a slow burn that promised more.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, and we sprang apart, each of us smoothing our hair and straightening our clothes. By the time the door swung open, we were the picture of professionalism—or so we hoped.

Justin leaned against the doorframe and shot me a knowing look—one that had my heart hitching in my chest. "Travis, you might want to take a break from ‘reorganizing your files' with Parker," he said, air quoting with a wry grin. The tips of my ears heated up as I glanced over at Parker, who was trying, poorly, to disguise his flustered state with a shuffle of patient charts.

"Justin, we were just—" I started, but the gleam in his eye told me it was pointless to feign innocence.

"Save it. I've known about you two for weeks," he admitted, pushing off from the doorframe and sauntering into the room. His smile was infectious, and despite the initial shock, I found myself grinning back.

"Seriously?" Parker asked, his eyes flickering between Justin and me.

"Yep, and so has everyone else." Justin's voice held a lilt of amusement. "In fact, we've been taking bets on how long it'd take for you guys to get caught."

"Wait, there's a betting pool on us?" I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from my chest. The absurdity was too much.

"Uh-huh, and let me tell you," he continued, pulling out his phone and tapping away. "I was pretty close to winning. I guessed three weeks. We're at two and a half."

"Who else is in on this?" I pressed, still reeling from the revelation.

"Who isn't? Even Bryan threw in a guess, though he's terrible at keeping secrets." Justin chuckled, scrolling through what I assumed was a list of bets.

"Guilty as charged," came a voice from the doorway. Bryan stepped in, arms crossed, looking like the cat that got the cream. "But hey, love makes you do silly things, right?"

"Like bet on your friend's love life?" Parker quipped, finally easing into the camaraderie.

"Exactly," Kara shot back as she joined us.

"Alright, alright, we've given them a hard enough time for one day," Justin said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get out of here and leave these two lovebirds alone." He ushered everyone out the door then turned back, a wry smirk on his face. "But seriously, you guys need to be more discreet, or at least lock the door."

"Point taken," Parker said, still looking a little shell-shocked as they all left the office, their laughter echoing down the hall.

"Guess we're not as sneaky as we thought," I mused, watching Parker collect himself.

"Seems like it," he agreed, but there was a sparkle in his eye that told me he wasn't upset. "So, what now?"

I shrugged, feeling the weight of the day melt away with the humor of the situation. "Now, we go home and finish what they so rudely interrupted."

"I like that plan."

The drive home was full of flirtatious banter and sly touches, each red light a chance for our hands to find each other. It was electric, the way we could barely keep our eyes on the road, the way every glance held a promise, every smile hinted at the night ahead.

By the time we made it home and I unlocked the door, we were both ready to burst. I locked the door behind us, and before I could flick on the lights, Parker's hands found my face, guiding me to meet his eager lips. The kiss was a heady mix of urgency and tenderness, our mouths moving together as if we were trying to communicate everything we'd been holding back all day. The familiar scent of his aftershave mingled with the faint musk of his skin filled my nostrils, stoking the fire inside me.

"Travis," he murmured against my lips, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine.

"Bedroom," was all I managed to reply, my mind singularly focused.

We stumbled through the darkened space, a trail of hastily discarded clothes marking our path up the stairs. Each piece shed was a promise, a tease of what was to come, heightening the anticipation until it was almost unbearable.

In the dim glow from the bedside lamp, we stripped each other bare. Parker's body was a landscape I was determined to explore inch by inch. His skin, smooth and warm under my touch, begged for attention. My fingers traced the contours of his muscles, reveling in the soft sighs and gasps that escaped him.

"God, you're incredible," I breathed, taking in the sight of him stretched out on my bed.

His eyes darkened with desire as I leaned down, capturing his mouth once more as I settled between his thighs. The taste of him—something uniquely Parker—was intoxicating, a taste I'd become addicted to. The feel of his stubble against my skin was a delightful contrast to the softness of his lips, urging me deeper into the kiss.

"Travis, please," he whispered, breaking away just enough to speak. It was the sweetest kind of torture, hearing my name fall from his lips like a prayer.

"Relax, let me take care of you," I said, my words punctuated with kisses along his jawline, down his neck, pausing to savor the rapid pulse beneath his skin.

I reached for the bedside drawer, retrieving the necessary supplies. My movements were deliberate, unhurried, as I coated my fingers, warming the slick substance before trailing a hand reaching between his legs to circle the ring of muscles teasingly.

Gently, I massaged around his entrance, allowing one finger to slip in, feeling him tense and then relax into the sensation. A second finger joined the first, scissoring slowly, stretching him with care and patience, knowing it had been a while for both of us. His breath hitched, and I watched a flush spread across his cheeks, the visual imprinting itself in my memory.

"I need more. I need you," he urged, lifting his hips in silent invitation.

"Shh, I've got you," I promised, sliding the condom on and positioning myself at his entrance. "Are you ready for me, Parker?" I asked, locking eyes with him.

"Yes," he replied, and the trust in his gaze fueled my desire to make this perfect for him.

With slow, steady pressure, I pushed forward, giving him time to adjust to the fullness. "Travis—" The sound of his voice, raw and edged with pleasure and need, spurred me on.

As I began to move, each thrust was a study in control—giving and taking, pushing and pulling. Our bodies moved together in a rhythm as old as time, yet as new and thrilling as if we were the first to discover its secrets. The sounds of our lovemaking filled the room—the slap of skin against skin, the ragged breaths, the whispered endearments. The scent of sex and sweat hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of our union.

"Look at me," I commanded softly, and he did, his eyes locking onto mine as we neared the precipice.

"Oh, God! I'm—" He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to. I felt him unravel beneath me, his body clenching around mine in the most exquisite way, triggering my own release.

We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, our breathing gradually slowing. As I pulled him close, I felt an emotion far deeper than lust settle in my chest. It was as if every playful glance, every shared laugh, had led to this moment—this profound connection that went beyond the physical.

"Stay with me tonight. Here, in my bed," I whispered, nuzzling into his hair.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he replied, his voice content and slightly drowsy.

In the quiet aftermath, with his steady heartbeat beneath my ear, I realized this wasn't just about finding someone to fill the empty space beside me. It was about finding the person who made every hookup before them fade into insignificance. And as sleep began to claim us both, I knew that in Parker, I had found exactly that.