Page 67 of Kickoff

“It must be serious.”

“Why? It’s no big deal.”

“Tell it to your face. You look like you’re in pain.”

I blew out a long puff of air. “If I were, would you help me out? Cure me? Give me whatever I need to get better?” I was playing with fire, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

She tapped her chin with a finger, her arms now folded between my spread legs. Each time her elbow stabbed my thigh, I feared my dick would betray my poor self-control.

“It depends. Would you die if I didn’t?”

I bobbed my head fast. “Oh yes. I would die a very slow and painful death. You know where you bleed out and no one is patching you up? That would be excruciating, I swear.”

She enveloped one of my hands in hers. I was usually the one initiating physical contact between us. I relaxed a bit as her damp skin brushed mine. Everything inside me seemed to agree because it felt as if a big, sturdy knot had been loosened. Melinda flipped my hand over so my palm faced up and followed the lines there with a fingertip—a feather touch that acted like a lightning bolt shooting through my body. “Then I would never let you suffer, Mase. You have my word. If someday you’re dying a slow death, I’ll be the one patching you up, okay?”

I swallowed. Fuck. How could she say all the right things and appear to have no clue I was really dying here? My words weren’t some metaphors. I was really desperate.

“Would you kiss it better?” The gruff sound of my voice surprised me, and I coughed to open my airways.

When she smiled at me, I got lost in the pool of her eyes. I swore she could do some black magic with these enticing abysses of hers. Yeah, it was easy to get lost in them. “Yes, I would.”

Now there was a full list of body parts I wished she could kiss better. The thought of it alone was enough to make me lose my mind.

Her tongue traced her lower lip. Was it a reflex, or had she done it on purpose? Was I putting too much thought into her actions? My brain spun in my head, and I felt dizzy. Was the action involuntary or deliberately done to let me know she yearned to kiss me as much as I did?

Never before had I had such a hard time reading a girl’s nonverbal cues. It was usually simple. Lustful smiles, eyelash flutters, a bad case of flushed cheeks, and some eye-fucking.

Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I pushed back a wet strand of her hair that had escaped her cap with a shaky finger and leaned forward. I could already feel her lips on mine, the taste of her skin, the silky texture of her hair sliding through my digits. Anticipation erupted inside me. My body hardened in all the right places. There was no one else but us here. No one to interrupt us or to mess this up.

My lips tingled.

Melinda’s eyes rounded. Lust banked low in them. I was sure they mirrored mine.

This was my chance. I was done being on the sideline. I wanted her. To hell with everything else.

The rest of the world faded around us. This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for. It had been a long time coming. Five years to be exact.

Before I could claim her mouth and my hands could roam over her body, she looked away and moved aside, lifting herself out of the pool. I didn’t have time to understand what happened when she walked toward the end of the pool in nothing but her black one-piece swimsuit. My body still vibrated with desire. Melinda Shepard was playing with every one of my restraints, and I didn’t even think she was doing it to screw with me. No one had ever kept me up on my toes like her. I was so out of my actual game when it concerned her. It was both exciting and excruciating, as if my heart had been left raw and exposed, but she couldn’t see it.

She hurried to the row of blocks, and I took in every inch of her dripping with chlorine water and the way her bathing suit molded to her curves. When I looked at her, minus the lust, I recognized the lean and powerful muscles of an athlete. Her defined back peeked through the keyhole opening of her swimsuit. The cut showcased her long and muscular legs that I craved to have wrapped around me.

A new wave of tension stretched the crotch of my swim trunks.

With one hand, I covered the hard part of me, feeling more exposed than I had ever before. I had never really dated dated anybody. Sure, I hooked up with my share of girls, but I never actually liked one enough to commit to something more—to yearn for a relationship.

My heart pounded faster.

A relationship. I wondered if it was something I’d be any good at.

Melinda positioned herself at one end of the pool, stepping onto the starting block, and adjusted her goggles. “Ready?”

I gave her my full attention, happy to evade my own crippling thoughts, and nodded. “When you are.” I used my most official voice. “Swimmers…huh…swimmer, take your mark.”

She bent her knees and leaned forward, then plunged into the pool when I said “Go.” I got entranced by her agility as she glided forward, her arms slicing through the waters in rhythmic strokes.

She spun around just before reaching the other end of the pool, pushing off the white tiled wall with the strength of her legs. She propelled her body ahead, gaining momentum until her hands connected with the opposite wall. I glanced at my phone, noting the result. She repeated the same course of action three times before joining me. I showed her the time, and she grinned as if she’d won the Olympics. “I’m killing it today.”

“Yes, you are.” I lifted a hand, and her palm connected with mine. “Good job, Shepard.”