“Aren’t they all?”
Her wink would drop my mouth if the image of Lennox and his teammates piling into the foyer of our hotel didn’t make it as dry as a desert. There are more half-naked bodies on display than at aMagic Mike Liverehearsal. Only half the team is wearing shirts, and since Lennox is leading the shirtless parade, it takes me longer than I care to admit to shift my eyes away from his rock-hard stomach and biceps.
Mercifully, Desiree is too busy ogling her long-term boyfriend, Holden, to notice my appreciative gawk of my best friend’s killer guns and almost hairless pecs. Lennox has a natural athletic build, but his muscles become much more prominent during the baseball season. Add that to the fact the summer leg of the league has had him training four to six hours a day the past two weeks, and they’re popping more than usual.
A girl can’t help but gawk.
“Hey,” Lennox greets while bobbing down to place a kiss on my cheek—another new habit we’ve developed since arriving at Ravenshoe.
When his sweat-slicked skin streams into my nose, the improper thoughts I face every time I massage out his kinks each afternoon return stronger than ever.
Do with this what you may, but I swear my offer to massage Lennox was an innocent gesture from one friend to another. On day three of his rigorous pre-season training, Lennox hobbled into our hotel room with a heat pack in one hand, a bottle of massage oil in the other, and a painful corked thigh. The team’s physiotherapist said a heat, elevation, and massage regime would be the quickest way to relieve the pain he was experiencing from a fastball to the groin, so I offered up my services.
I’m not a trained masseuse, but I wasn’t lying when I told Lennox my fingers were wonderous instruments. They’re so good, Lennox’s corked thigh was a thing of the past within a couple of days, but despite that, we’ve continued with our daily massage routine.
I don’t know why. It might seem weird to others, but to me, it’s a natural progression in our friendship. Lennox assures my skin won’t return to the lobster-red appearance it had the night I went home by applying sunscreen to my body every morning, and I return the favor by making sure his muscles are nice and relaxed each afternoon.
It is a routine that works well for us, but I understand how it confuses real-life couples like Desiree and Holden. I’m puzzled by how different our friendship has become since we left Morrison, so I can’t expect strangers to skip the shit-fest.
I remember a boutique in the middle of a fancy hotel isn’t the place for a debriefing when Lennox asks, “Are you okay, Summer? You look a little flushed.”
I brush off his worry with a wave of my hand. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” He shifts his eyes to Desiree, who’s schmoozing her man in a way that makes me insanely jealous.
I’ve never had my neck caressed by a pair of lips like Holden is bombarding Desiree with now—not even while Lennox ground his erection against my backside in a wordless confirmation he didn’t want to gouge out his eyes after seeing me naked.
Perhaps that was the cause of our change-up of late? I’m not hating on myself as regularly as I usually do, and Lennox, although forever cocky, has never once admitted shame that he got excited about my unexpected strip tease. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear he’s hoping for a round two. He does hang with me in the bathroom more than normal. He even sat on the rim of the bath the other day when I tested out the deepness of the clawfoot tub in our room.
“Does she look okay to you, Desi?”
Desiree is at a loss for words. I don’t know her well enough to summarize if her daftness is because of my odd friendship with Lennox or from Holden’s lips on her neck. It’s probably both. “Ah… yeah. Mostly.” She snaps out of her trance too quickly to be classified as dim-witted. “She’s probably overheated. Perhaps you should take her for a swim.” Holden pouts when she yanks away from him so she can snag the bikini I’ve been eyeing the past five days off the rack to shove it into Lennox’s chest. “This would look great on her. You should buy it for her, then take her for awhirlon the beach.”
I pray for a sinkhole to swallow me when Lennox misses the insinuation in her tone. “A bikini? Summer doesn’t wear bikinis. She’s more a boardshorts and tankini type of girl.” Prayers rip from my head so loudly, I’m confident his teammates loitering in the foyer can hear them when Lennox puts the bikini back onto the rack before grabbing up one of the moo-moo swim dresses ladies in their sixties wear. “What about this one, Sum? It has the same hibiscus print as the armchair in our room.”
“I don’t need a new pair of swimmers. According to you, the one pair I have is fine.” I almost break the coat hanger when I snatch the disgusting scrap of material from Lennox’s hand to return it to the ‘elderly’ half of the boutique my father must have shopped at when he purchased me some clothes for my summer getaway. “It’s also too hot to go swimming. I’ll get as burned to a crisp if I go out in the sun now.”
My thoughts once again shift to perverted when Lennox says, “Don’t act like I didn’t lather you in sunscreen this morning, Cocoa.” His head hangs to the side in a totally wicked way before he murmurs, “I even covered sections the sun can’t reach.” This is why people like Desiree and Holden are so bewildered about our friendship. Over the past two weeks, we’ve trampled the line in the sand. That’s why it is no longer visible. “So not only are you beach ready, I’m more than capable of lubing you up for an afternoon session if you think this morning’s effort wasn’t up to scratch.”
After dipping his chin in farewell to Holden and Desiree, Lennox guides me out of the boutique like the eyes of his teammates aren’t locked on our conjoined hands. He darts us past the check-in clerk, pinches a handful of shampoo and conditioner bottles off a maid’s trolley so we don’t have to fight over the one measly bottle the hotel supplies each day, then gestures for me to enter our room before him.
When he hands me the swimwear I left hanging over the patio furniture to dry, I ask, “Do you not want a massage today?”
It’s the fight of my life not to pout when he shakes his head. “Coach organized a double hitter. This morning was practice. This afternoon will be theory.” He breathes out so sharply, a blonde curl fallen from my bun surfs in the breeze of his exhale. “I’ve got plays running through my head nonstop. That’s why the guys and I decided to come back for a swim. We need to de-fry our brains before they implode. Coach wants us back in two hours.”
He gives me a look, one that tells me to get a wiggle on before he snatches a pair of boardshorts from his suitcase and moves to the corner of the room to get changed. I only just reach the bathroom when he toes off his cleats and commences removing his baseball pants, I am confident weren’t designed to be worn as snugly as the new era of ballers wear them.
My teeth catch my lower lip when his boxer shorts are the next thing to go. I thought his deliriously handsome face was his best asset, but the longer I ogle his scrumptious ass, the warier my theory becomes.
I almost smack headfirst into the bathroom’s door frame when Lennox mumbles, “You’re supposed to be getting dressed, Cocoa. Not watching me strip.”
“I… ah… forgot my sunscreen.” Snatching it off the entryway table like he doesn’t apply it every morning, I race into the bathroom like the heat on my cheeks is from a burst blood vessel instead of ogling my best friend’s ass.
“Heads up.” I glance up in just enough time to spot the bottle of water Lennox is tossing my way. We’ve been enjoying the beautiful afternoon rays for a little over an hour, but my neck is stinging like we’ve been stranded on a treeless island for months on end. “Your getup means you need to hydrate more often if you don’t want heatstroke.”
My teeth only get in one solid grind about his underhanded ribbing of the bathing suithe’sadamant I must wear. They’re too busy parting to breathe through the sensation of him rubbing a clump of aloe vera gel into the nape of my neck. The pressure of his fingers on my achy skin is wonderous. They’ve had me caught in a trance multiple times the past two weeks.
“This is why you should have left the sunscreen application to me, Cocoa,” Lennox murmurs when I moan through the blissful buzz darting down my spine. “You wouldn’t have gotten burned if you didn’t change things up.” Once my neck and a small section of my shoulders are coated with the soothing gel, he cleans his fingers with my towel before playfully patting my backside two times. “I think it’s time for you to call it a day. Your neck and the back of your knees are as red as a beetroot.” When I peer up at him, loving the playful scorn of his tone, his lips tug at one side. “As are your cheeks, which is odd considering you’ve been laying on your stomach the past hour.” He taps my backside again before standing to his feet. “Come on, I’ll get you settled before I head back to the stadium.” He strays his eyes to Holden, who’s lazing on the sun lounge next to me with Desiree. “Meet you there?”
