Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

TATE

T he elevator glides to a stop and Lily gently hustles me out, like she’s a mother hen rounding up her chicks. It’s a weird contrast to the brusque control she exerted back in the car. She was all action, few words and no emotion. I suddenly feel like I have absolutely no idea who this woman is. And I’m desperate to take control again.

‘Fuck, I think you’ve been burgled,’ I say as we step into her room. It looks as if her suitcase has exploded, and the sight reassures me, giving me an anchor. It’s the first familiar thing about Lily. Like, finally I’m seeing the real her again. Back in college her room was always like a yard sale, clothes strewn everywhere, open books piled on random clear parts of the floor and countless pairs of discarded shoes. Here in her hotel room, clothes are draped over every piece of furniture in the lounge, her uniform of black cargo pants and Ts on one side and a rainbow of glamorous dresses over the back of the large sofa. Shoes are tossed here, there and everywhere. Heels, sneakers and boots. And then there’s the underwear. I immediately perk up and pick up a black lacy bra that’s been abandoned on one of the easy chairs.

‘You never used to wear underwear like this, unless it was a special occasion,’ I say, holding it up with a smirk. Inside I feel a bit sick wondering who’s seen her in this. To me, it’s the kind of underwear you buy with sex in mind.

She snatches it from me. ‘I wasn’t expecting guests.’

I look at a pair of matching panties on the coffee table and raise an eyebrow.

‘I was unpacking in a hurry.’

‘Unpacking?’

‘I was looking for something at the bottom of my case.’ The way she says it, and her sudden, defensive posture makes me wonder what on earth it was she was looking for and why she looks so uncomfortable.

‘Did you find it?’ I ask, deliberately lowering my voice. Sensing the opportunity to have a bit of fun.

‘Huh?’ she says. ‘Oh, yes.’

‘This thing you found, would it be battery operated?’ I ask.

The blush on her face is a picture, but she gives me that super snotty glare I remember so well when she was pissed, looking down her nose at me like I’m a bug she already should have squashed. She carries it off well, as she draws herself up to her full height.

‘I could use a drink,’ she says. ‘You want something? Although you’re still wearing your last drink.’ She indicates my top, which is never going to be the same again. Now that I’m aware of the clammy fabric sticking to my skin, I can’t stand it. Taking the hem, in one quick move I rip it off and use the clean back to pat down my chest.

The noise I hear makes me look up and she turns away rapidly but not before I saw the wide-eyed expression on her face. She immediately walks into the corner of the desk and curses as she rubs at her knee. It takes me right back to my old college room, and her hands exploring me for the first time, her eyes full of wonder and heat.

‘I can get you a robe,’ she says crisply.

‘I’m good,’ I say to mess with her.

I see the tightening of her mouth as she turns away. I grin to myself, seems like the professional bodyguard is just a bit rattled. I was beginning to wonder if the girl I remember is still in there.

‘I could murder a bourbon if there’s one in your fancy bar,’ I say. ‘But I’d like to clean up first. Take a shower and see if I can at least salvage these jeans.’ I start to undo my belt.

‘Why don’t you go into the bathroom?’ Her tone might be calm, but the words are hurried. ‘It’s through there.’ She points to the bedroom door on the other side of the room. ‘There’s a spare robe. And help yourself to toiletries.’

‘Thanks,’ I say and head towards the bathroom.

It smells feminine and sexy. There are skincare lotions and potions on the shelf below the mirror above the sink. Two robes hang on the back of the door, one of which has been used, the other is still tied around the waist.

Then I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I’ve got coffee freckled all over me.

I step under the bucket head of the shower into hot water and turn it up a notch or two, letting the scalding rivulets run down my face. There are plenty of potions in here, which makes me smile. Underneath the no-nonsense surface, someone likes looking after herself. I help myself to a liberal handful of her shower gel. Huge mistake. The orange blossom smell is all Lily. It’s like she’s in here with me. I close my eyes and for a moment I allow myself to think of her lithe body, naked, slippery and wet. Her dorm shower, so small we were jammed together with no space to move. Kissing her under the water, her hands on my cock. The memories are all it takes and suddenly I’m hard, my dick like wood. All the frustrations of holding off sex because we were going to wait until after the championship, after her cheerleading auditions. We were both driven, goal-orientated, and we were doing it together. Now all that seems like a fuck of a waste of time. I made her come every which way but the one that counted the most and she’d walked away on the very night we’d promised ourselves to each other.

Clearly it was just about sexual attraction. We always had great chemistry. None of it meant anything to her. I have to remember that. What we had between us was a mirage– it didn’t exist, just like my dad always told me. Lily walked away just like Mom did, and I was the dumb schmuck who believed she might be different.

Once I’ve cleaned up, I towel off and wrap myself in a robe, which is a size or two too small. Clearly, not too many ball players stay here. The front barely meets so I put my damp, boxer shorts back on, grateful they escaped most of the coffee, and go back into the lounge.

She’s on the phone but looks up and tucks the phone into her neck as she pours Wild Turkey into two cut-glass crystal tumblers while giving clipped answers to whoever is on the other end, her face grave and stern. Looking up she hands me one of the glasses and gives me a tight, unsmiling nod.

‘I think that’s the best idea. I’ll liaise with Winston. Okay. Thanks.’

Ending the call, she puts down the phone and takes a slug of bourbon.

‘You got everything you need?’ she asks.

‘Sure, apart from clothes.’

‘I’ll see if housekeeping can do a quick laundry turnaround,’ she says, and I can tell her mind is already working out the next move. ‘I need to change. I might as well get these things cleaned with yours.’ She holds up the sleeve of her cream cashmere jumper adorned with coffee splashes.

Who knew a to-go cup held so much liquid.

‘Will you be okay?’ she asks, and I realise she’s looking at me, her eyes slightly narrowed.

‘Me?’ I look around, but the truth is, I’m starting to get an adrenaline come down. ‘Of course, I’ll be okay.’ Does she think a near-miss in the car is going to bother me? I’m made of sterner stuff. Or at least, I always thought I was. To be honest, now I’m thinking about it, I’m feeling a little nauseous and I’ve got that itchy, can’t-sit-still feeling. I take another hefty sip of bourbon, which doesn’t do much for the nausea.

‘You sure, you look a little grey.’

‘I’m just fine. Why don’t you go get cleaned up?’ I’m unnecessarily terse.

‘Okay,’ she says, giving me another uncertain look.

The minute she walks out, I lift my shaking hand with the glass to my mouth, but I can’t take a sip. I have to put it down. Both hands are shaking badly. I refuse to sit down. Instead, I open the balcony door, despite the fact it’s freezing outside, and take a lungful of the icy, early-evening air. I feel like shit and my legs are wobbly. Gripping the handrail of the balcony to ground me, I stare out at the view. I have a love-hate relationship with the city. I love the fancy restaurants, the twenty-four-hour lifestyle, its fast pace, but I miss the friendliness of small-town living, where everyone knows you and no one is impressed by you because they remember when you were a snot-nosed kid crying over a dropped ice cream. Where people care about you because they know you, not because you’re someone famous.

None of this is helping. I’ve still got that sense of doom and the shakes are getting worse instead of better. The doc warned me I might feel like this after my reaction. I go back into the room and over to the bar and try to pour myself another bourbon, the bottle chinking against the glass as I splash the liquid over the edge. I manage to get enough of a shot in the glass and scoop it up to knock it back with my trembling hand when Lily returns.

‘Tate?’

Fuck, I feel like I’ve been caught by the school principal.

‘Yeah.’

‘Why don’t you sit down? You look bushed.’

‘I’m okay,’ I growl, though I’m clearly not. I immediately feel even more shit because Lily looks like an innocent angel. Her hair is bundled up in a towel, which accentuates the dainty features of her face, scrubbed free of make-up. She looks soft and rosy, her skin creamy and smooth. My heart misses a beat, this is the girl I fell in love with, and in her fluffy robe, with bare feet– toenails painted a very pale pink– she looks sweet and defenceless.

Although, I’m not falling for that again.

I swallow. ‘Sorry. You’re right. It’s not every day you realise someone really is trying to kill you.’

I sit down on one of the dark, forest-green velvet couches and I’m surprised when she comes to sit next to me on the couch rather than on the one opposite. There’s no point trying to hide my shakes, but I try for a bit of bravado.

‘That was quite some driving,’ I say, tossing back a good slug of bourbon, which burns a smooth path down my throat. ‘You do some kind of advanced course? Is it all part of the training?’

‘My dad taught me evasive driving skills in a Land Rover on the estate in the school holidays when I was fourteen, the year before we moved to the States, but of course I did a refresher when I joined the firm.’

‘I’ve said it before, but you had a weird upbringing.’

‘And you didn’t?’ She tosses it in and I’m shocked.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ She has no idea what’s she’s talking about. ‘My dad went above and beyond for me. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. I owe him everything.’

I lapse into silence, thinking of all the sacrifices my dad made to make sure I could always play football. He’d be devastated if anything happened to me, and I didn’t make the final. Shit, if Lily hadn’t been there today, what could have happened? Would I have even noticed a car behind us if I’d been driving. Or what if I’d been with Blake? I could have got him into trouble, too.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I should be saying thank you. You really think someone wanted to harm me?’

Lily gives me a gentle smile, and damn if it doesn’t make me feel just a little stupid inside.

‘I don’t know what they planned but we still need to keep our wits about us and take all necessary precautions.’

‘Right,’ I say.

‘Would you like something to eat?’ she asks.

‘No. Another drink will do me fine.’

She places a soft hand on my trembling hand, steadying it.

‘Shit, I’m sorry I can’t stop shaking. What a loser, huh?’

The feel of her hand is hot on my skin, like a gentle burn, warming and painful at the same time. I focus on it because if I don’t, I’m going to make a fool of myself and say something like, I’m glad you’re here and don’t ever let go.

With a shake of her head, she grips my hand tighter, lacing her fingers between mine. ‘Stop trying to be the big bad ass. Your body has been exposed to a huge dose of adrenaline.’

‘Again,’ I put in.

‘Are you feeling nauseous? Shaky?’

I catch my lip in my teeth. No point denying it, she can see it right under her very pretty little nose.

‘I don’t think the bourbon is helping.’

‘Do you ever do yoga?’ she asks.

I snort. ‘Yoga? Hell, no. I’m more of a Pilates man.’ I pat my core.

She smiles. ‘Yoga is a different discipline, and it might help those feelings of anxiety and dread.’

‘Who says I’m anxious?’ I immediately say, but it’s a relief that she’s named these weird, swirly, itchy feelings. She’s right. I’m anxious as fuck. My skin feels too tight for my body, and I want to scratch it off.

She takes the glass out of my hand and with both hands gently tugs me to my feet.

‘Let me show you a few stretches and breathing exercises. I think they’ll help.’

Her hands are warm and soft as they close around mine. Her touch anchors me, settling me at once, and her quiet confidence calms me. She’s reaching to me on a different level, like I need looking after. I’m overcome by a rush of gratitude as she pulls me over to the rug by the windows.

‘Kneel down on the floor on all fours,’ she says.

‘Whatever you say.’ I cock an eyebrow, trying to add levity to the situation and how I’m feeling.

‘Just do it, JB,’ she says and gets down on all fours beside me.

‘I like it when you talk tough.’

‘Stop it,’ she says. ‘You’re using distraction, and I’m not buying.’

I get down on all fours.

‘Hands under your shoulders, knees under your hips.’

I move into the position, but not before I shrug off my robe leaving me topless in just my boxers. It’s a bit of a power move when I’m feeling just a tiny bit vulnerable, but knowing I affected her just a little when I took my top off earlier makes me want to take a few risks. It’s been ages since I’ve done anything out of my comfort zone, I realise. For the last eight years, all I’ve done is live and breathe football. Everything has been geared towards that. The food I eat, the exercise I take, the places I travel. It dominates my life, but that’s how I got to the top. And it’s why I’m so important to the team. They’re relying on me. I rely on them. They’re brothers.

One of her hands lands on my shoulder gently pressing and shifting me so that I’m more in line. Her hand touches my hip. ‘Pull back a little,’ she says. ‘And let go of all those thoughts. I can almost hear them. You’re so tense here.’ Her fingers massage the hard knot just a little.

She’s right, my mind is spiralling. I concentrate on her soft voice to anchor me.

‘Spread your hands and your weight evenly. Feel the ground beneath you.’

I feel the stretch in my shoulders.

‘Tuck your toes under.’

I follow her instructions, but I’m struggling to get them. My muscles are tight– it doesn’t feel right.

‘This isn’t possible,’ I say. Surely, she doesn’t want me to stand upside down. That’s what it feels like she’s asking me to do. I tense. Any second now she’ll tell me that of course I can do it, I’m just not trying hard enough.

‘Lift your bottom to point skyward.’

‘What?’

On all fours, she moves in front of me, sadly her robe is belted tightly and moulds her slim form like a mummy.

‘Watch.’ Her body flows with the same elegant grace I remember when she was out on the field with the cheerleading squad. She tucks her toes under and lifts her bottom in one fluid move. I can’t stop watching her as she lifts the heels on each leg one after another and still manages to look incredibly graceful, even in the uncomfortable-looking pose.

‘Now you try,’ she says with a sunny smile, rising to her feet with barely any effort at all, as if the move has given her an injection of positivity. ‘And don’t worry, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Just do what you can.’

With my head facing down, I wrinkle my nose. Do what I can? That’s not good enough, it always has to be the best I can.

I try again, and this time I have a better understanding of what I’m trying to achieve. I lift my butt up ‘to the sky’ and feel the stretch on my hamstrings but it’s a nice pull, makes me feel like I’m working, and for once, I’m not so worried about whether I’ve got it exactly right.

‘That’s really nice, Tate. Lovely. Just take a few deep breaths.’ She stands and comes over to my side. I feel ridiculously pleased with myself and her praise. Her hand rests very gently on my hip and I can smell the scent of her shower gel. I immediately picture her in there again. Oh, Fuck. How the hell am I going to get out of this? I need to make sure she stays exactly where she is. The strain is starting to tell on my legs.

‘You can come down now.’

‘I’m okay,’ I grunt.

‘No, Tate. You don’t want to overdo it,’ she says, touching my bare skin again, pushing lightly to press me back down. ‘This is for you, no one else. No one is watching. Needing anything from you.’

For me? The thought slides into my brain like a slice of light. Don’t I do everything for me? My dad always told me everything he did was for me. To help me. So that I could play football. Everything was about making me stronger, faster, better on the field. So that I could be the best player.

I slowly sink to my knees and let out a long slow breath feeling lighter inside.

‘Feeling better?’ she asks.

‘Mmm,’ I mumble, exploring the sensation of the sunshine coming out inside me. Is this good? Can I afford to be self-indulgent like this and take this time for myself?

‘You are allowed to feel better, you know.’

Lily’s eyes hold mine, assessing, and there it is again, that slight lift of her chin like she’s a boxer ready to step into the ring. That’s the Lily I remember, never one to back down.

I’m aware of a subtle change as we continue to stare at each other, my eyes locked on hers like a tractor beam. There’s a charged silence in the room, the low lamplight casting soft shadows– and outside, the lights of the city twinkle in the night. Something’s changed, I’m no longer interested in teasing her, I want her. Her mouth on mine, those delicate hands on me. I drop my gaze to her lips, which are parted, and I see the hitch in her breath. My dick aches with longing for her touch. I see her swallow.

Two steps and I could undo her robe. I take a step forward, slow and careful, my eyes dipping to the exposed V of skin on her chest. There’s a flash of heat in her eyes but she doesn’t move or say anything. I run a gentle finger down the inside lapel of her robe. Soft, soft skin, the slight swell of breast, the scent of her– it’s all intoxicating. I want to lower my head and graze my lips along her collarbone. Lily’s chest rises as she takes in a deep breath and her head lifts to look at me, this time bewilderment, confusion and pain are in her eyes and it makes me pause. All my rage and anger, the sharp desire and urgent need, dissipate. I find myself wanting to offer comfort and tenderness. The need is still there, but it’s different and it scares the shit out of me.

She closes her eyes, and for a moment I kid myself it’s like she’s receiving benediction. Then her lips part beneath mine and I inhale her soft sigh. I’m anticipating the slow, slow, kiss, the tender caress of mouths, like coming home, it’s all sweetness and softness. I lift a hand to her face, my fingers caressing the smooth skin of her cheek.

I feel her stiffen beneath my touch. Her eyes dart to mine.

‘We can’t do this,’ she says and her eyes harden with resolve.

A jagged edge of pain reminds me of all that was lost. She left me back in college and I nearly lost myself, I nearly threw everything away. Football saved me. I have the biggest game of my life ahead of me, I would be crazy to allow any distraction right now, let alone with Lily Heath.