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I woke up the next day more rested than I’d felt in ages. Perhaps it was because I’d fallen asleep knowing I wouldn’t have to fight with my alarm clock in the morning.
Or perhaps it was because I’d spent two hours on the phone to Miguel, making plans for our date.
Time couldn’t move fast enough for me, but going home heavily depended on how quickly Radleigh recovered from his head injury.
He had a visit from the doctor in the morning and I sat with him, every muscle in my body tense throughout the examination. Thankfully, the doctor gave him the all clear to fly home the next day, as long as he promised to take things easy.
McCoy pretended to be cool but he was obviously relieved to be on the mend. He called Richard to tell him the news, while I called the airline and booked us seats on the afternoon flight to Los Angeles.
Even though the doctor gave us good news, Radleigh was still under strict orders to keep resting which sort of limited our activities. After lunch, he asked me to accompany him for a walk around the hotel grounds and I wasn’t cruel enough to make him go alone, especially when he was still so unsteady on his feet.
We wandered at a leisurely pace along the pathway through the beautifully mowed lawn towards the river that flowed at the bottom of the gardens, the sunshine on my back warming me through the thin material of my khaki shirt. We sat down on a bench overlooking the stream where ducks were swimming, and dipping their heads under the water in play. Radleigh leaned back rubbing his neck, completely oblivious to the beauty surrounding him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, my neck’s a bit stiff from being in bed for so long. I’ll be fine when I can move around again.”
“You can’t rush it. You’ve still got to take it slowly for a while.”
He nodded, obviously just humouring me. The man thought he was a superhero.
“Your dad was a soccer player too, right?” I asked, remembering a profile I’d read on him. I had no idea I’d retained any of the information until the question slipped out of my mouth.
“Yeah, and my grandfather too. One day I’d like to have a son following in my footsteps.”
“After all the women you’ve slept with, you might already have a whole soccer team you don’t even know about.”
A jolt of guilt hit me hard, unexpectedly. Nope, still not okay to joke about that.
“Ha ha,” Radleigh said, blind to my discomfort. “My dad played with Richard in Missouri for a while until Richard transferred to Westberg.”
“Wow, so Richard’s known you your whole life?”
He nodded. “Pretty much.”
Richard had never given any indication that he knew McCoy before he played for Westberg. In fact, my boss showed mostly disdain for him in matters that weren’t directly related to his talent on the field. I suspected his complete lack of respect was the biggest problem.
“I screwed his daughter,” Radleigh said in response to my unspoken question.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you did.”
As he attempted to explain his behaviour, I walked around the bench to stand behind him and gently batted his hand away from his neck so I could massage his shoulders. I wasn’t quite sure what had possessed me to do it. I guess healing pain was instinctive to me.
“Oh God,” he moaned, halting his piss poor excuses for defiling the boss’ daughter.
I ran my thumb slowly but firmly up and down the back of his neck, trying hard not to enjoy the feeling of his muscles beneath my fingers. “Control yourself.”
“If you knew how good this feels, you’d understand.”
“It’s supposed to feel good, it’s not supposed to be a turn-on.”
“Okay, let’s swap places and we’ll see if you can still make the same statement.”
“Shut up or I’ll stop.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
Knowing my touch had such an effect on him made me feel … powerful, like it was finally me who was in control. Dominance wasn’t usually my thing, but when it came to McCoy, I really got a kick out of it. I hoped he’d keep quiet because I wanted to continue torturing him for a bit longer.
