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Leo chuckles, shaking his head as his blue-eyed gaze slides back to the TV in the corner. “You really thought you could’ve scared off Vivian’s apprentice?” he asks with an amused grin.
I purse my lips, grabbing a towel and wiping my forehead and the back of my neck. “I wasn’t trying to scare her off,” I grunt, eyebrows furrowing together.
Leo throws a disbelieving look my way, and I roll my eyes but don’t bother defending myself. Everyone knows of my hatred of interviews; my attitude during them is the default way I approach them. It doesn’t have to do with the reporter I’m speaking to—most of the time, at least. Every now and then, you get a sleazebag reporter who is obviously looking for a scandal rather than game insights. If they want to do that, then go be a celebrity gossip blogger, for shit’s sake.
“Good,” Leo muses with a small grin. “I don’t think you would’ve succeeded if you even tried, anyway. That girl was born for the camera.”
My gaze narrows on Leo as he slides over to the TV once more, watching as Willow interviews Caden Bennett, the team’s tight end. Before I can say anything, another voice speaks up.
“You two talking about the new reporter?” Jordan Buchanan asks from where he sits on the bench press, a grin leering on his face. He nods appreciatively at the TV, where Willow is all smiles as she talks to Caden. “She’s stupid hot. What I’d do to get her in my bed,” he shakes his head as he no doubt fantasizes about Willow.
Out of nowhere, I feel my blood boil, the warmth intensifying against my skin as my gaze narrows into a tight scowl toward Jordan. “Watch your mouth,” I snap, the words slipping past my lips before I can think twice about them.
Jordan blinks at me, obviously startled by my curt words, and my jaw clenches because I can feel Leo’s curious and even more amused gaze on me. The back of my neck heats despite myself, feeling more gazes of my teammates’ settle on me, clearly having heard me before they go back to what they’re doing.
“Uh,” Jordan starts, frowning briefly before giving a terse nod. “Sorry, Cap,” he says before getting up and moving to the other side of the room.
When he’s gone, Leo snorts out a laugh, raising his eyebrows at me. I pointedly ignore him, taking a long sip from my Gatorade, hoping the cool drink will calm me the hell down. Meanwhile, Leo hums, “Awfully defensive of her, aren’t you?”
I level him with a glare. “You’ve got a daughter, asshole. Would you want someone talking about her that way?”
Leo’s gaze darkens instantly, no doubt imagining that very scenario, his jaw tightening in anger. I fight a smirk, knowing I got him. Leo exhales sharply before saying, “Touché. But I doubt it’s just basic human decency that’s got you all riled up about Buchanan’s comment.”
My smirk disappears, teeth pressing together tightly. “Think what you want,” I grumbled, gripping my bottle and taking another sip from it.
Leo eyes me for a moment but I don’t bristle under his gaze, not even when realization seems to dawn on his features and a grin turns the corners of his mouth upwards. “Well, fuck me—you’re into her, aren’t you?” I tense at his words, my scowl returning, and he lets out a laugh. “Oh, hell. Youare.”
I’m not that oblivious that I don’t know he’s right. Being unable to stop thinking about Willow, replaying our less than stellar interaction over and over again—the woman is confident, attractive, and not intimidated by me. My head won’t let me forget it.
“Hell of a first impression you made, man,” Leo says with a shake of his head, amusement dancing in his gaze. “You’re gonna have to fix that if you’re into her. I heard there’s a good chance she’s taking over for Vivian for the rest of the season.”
If I was holding onto a pair of dumbbells, I have a faint inkling that I would have dropped them on my damn feet after hearing Leo’s words.Fuck me.
Later, I’m the last one in the facility, the fact emphasized by the way every little sound seems to echo in the empty bathroom. The curtain is drawn to keep my privacy, despite being the only one here, as freezing cold water cascades down from the shower. But that does nothing to ease the tension in my muscles, of course. No, the cold water doesn’t even do what it’s meant to, and I stand beneath it with my left hand pressed to the tiled wall, head bowed, as I finally give in and wrap my right hand around my hardened length.
“Damn,” I hiss out, eyes squeezing shut at the feel of my callused hand around my cock.
Slowly, I give it a pump, jaw clenching tightly, and I imagine that it isn’t my hand, but a smaller, softer one. I imagineherhand, the way it had been wrapped around the microphone, with blue painted nails and rings adorning her fingers. My throat tightens as I move my hand up and down my cock, imagining the thin metal of her rings against my sensitive flesh.
It feels wrong, almost, to think of her as I continue pumping myself, knowing how I acted around her, the way I dismissed her. But then images of her smile flicker through my head—the same one I stupidly made an idiotic comment about—and I swear I can almost fucking smell her apple scent, and I can’t stop. My movements grow more frantic, panting and the sound is drowned out by the shower.
Gorgeous. She’s fucking gorgeous, and I made an ass out of myself in front of her. I think of her mouth, those naturally pouting lips, pink and just begging to be kissed. I imagine they’re as soft as they look, and I give my cock a jerk as I imagine biting into her plump bottom lip, tasting her. I no longer feel the water cascading over me; instead, I’m lost in imagining Willow—under me, riding me, her hands on my skin. My body burns for the real thing as images of green eyes float through my mind, and the breath in my lungs rushes out as my muscles tighten and tighten until my vision goes white, a low, guttural groan slipping from me as cum shoots out in thick spurts before it spirals down the drain. I squeeze my eyes shut, seeing fireworks exploding behind my closed lids. My hand fists against the tiled wall as my breathing grows heavy, heart thundering my body begins to slowly,so slowly, relax from the climax.
The sound of my breathing mixes with the shower still hitting the tiled floor, and I straighten under it, jaw tight as my shoulders relax slightly. No doubt if Willow knew what I just did, that I just got off to the thought of her, she would be less than pleased—probably disgusted—after how I spoke to her. But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and I’m not about to apologize, or feel guilty, over a more than satisfying orgasm.
I can only imagine what it’d be like to be with her.
I suddenly purse my lips as Jordan’s words from earlier echo in my mind, and I slam the shower off with a flick of my hand. Frustration pounds through me, taking away the high from the release, because, well… how am I any better than Jordan? He made a comment about Willow, and then I’m here, having just gotten off to the thought of her.
I shove the curtain open, nearly ripping it off the rod, and avoid the mirrors. If I were to look into one, a hypocrite would be staring back at me.
Chapter 3
Willow
“Holyfuckingshit!”
My outburst startles the woman two sinks over, but I pay her no attention as I gape at my reflection in the mirror. My heart thunders wildly in a combination of excitement and disbelief over the meeting I just sat through. Head reporter. Notassistantorjunior, buthead. The thought alone dizzies me, tightening my grip on the porcelain sink as I exhale slowly in hopes of calming my racing pulse. It does little to help.
