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There is a banging on my door again.
“Let’s go,” Desirae calls.
“I need a shower. You wanna come scrub my balls?” I tease.
“You have ten minutes before I come in there and put them in a vice.”
My dick shrinks at her threat, and I laugh.
“Spunk. I like spunk.”
“Get to it, Hammer. I don’t have all day.”
“Sure you do.”
“Fuck you!”
“Gladly, baby. Come on in.”
I hear her frustrated gasp as she stomps away.
Everything has changed between us. I’m done ignoring what I want, and I won’t let her push me away any longer. The quicker she can figure that out, the better for us all.
I haven’t been this motivated since the accident. Pausing, I think … I haven’t felt this alive ever. Maybe Desirae is just what I need in more ways than one.
~Desirae~
Hammer is lying on the living room floor, as per our usual routine. My mind keeps straying from work and over to what it would be like to play with him, instead.
Focus, Desirae. You don’t have time to flirt with your client.
Grabbing the therapy exercise ball that I asked Ice to buy last week, I hold it up between us. “Ready?”
He nods and positions his legs slightly apart. I place the green ball between his knees then order him to squeeze and hold it for a count of five. This will help build the strength in his inner thighs back up.
I’m so focused on watching him to make sure he does the exercise properly that I don’t realize he is staring at me.
“You’re staring at my little, green ball awfully hard, Drill Sergeant.”
Snorting, I quip back, “Someone has to make sure you don’t try to overwork yourself again. And that little, green ball is gonna kick your ass. Just wait until you’re on the tenth repetition for the second round.”
Hammer chuckles. “I have to admit I’d much rather you were staring at my other two balls. Those, you can exercise as much as you want, babe.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Really? Is this what you’re gonna do every time we try to do your exercises?”
“What am I doing, Desirae?”
“Trying to distract me with your horn-dog lines. It’s not gonna work, mister. You’re gonna do this workout in its entirety so I can get you back up on your own feet for good. Just think, then you can go back to the club and fuck all the barflies you want.”
He stops his repetitions, as still and tense as a stone statue. “It’s not the barflies I wanna fuck, baby.”
Now it is my turn to go still. “Oh, yeah? And just who do you wanna fuck, Hammer? Tina? Maybe Kate since I walked in and you couldn’t finish up with her?”
Bracing his arms on the floor, he pushes his upper body up into a sitting position, closing the space between us until our faces are so close our noses almost touch. “The only woman I wanna stick my dick in is you. And I’ve gotta tell ya, babe, when I get in there, I don’t plan on coming out anytime soon.”
Suddenly, my mouth is as dry as the Sahara Desert, and my throat feels too tight to speak. Is he serious? Does he really want me that much? Or is he just trying to scratch an itch?
God, why am I even thinking about these things? I don’t have a place in my life for anyone right now, especially a lover.
But what a lover he would be, my heart whispers to me.
Yeah, that is the last organ in my body I need making decisions for me. My heart needs to get the memo that, until our life has been fixed, we need to stay alone. I can’t take the chance of endangering anyone. I have yet to hear from Tank or the Hellions that my problem is gone, and I am starting to worry my life is never going to be fixed.
My body yearns for everything Hammer is offering, even if it is to scratch an itch. I have itches, too, dammit.
It doesn’t feel that simple to me when it comes to him, though. Somewhere during my stay here, I have come to care for this man more than any physical therapist should. Maybe it was the day he cuddled with me on the couch after Coal was a jackass, or maybe it’s the undeniable chemistry that flows between us during his training sessions. Whatever it is, it is unacceptable. I have to nip this in the bud and get him to finish his exercises so I can get some breathing room. And I know just how to do it: pull his punk card. No man likes being led on then let down.
Dropping the tone of my voice to the sexiest call girl impersonation I can, I murmur, “Oh, yeah? You wanna prove it to me, big boy?”
