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“Honestly, Lake, you wouldn't mind if I steal her for a couple sessions next week, would you?” Dixon continues. “Dylan was explaining a few exercises that really might help my sciatica—”
“No,” I state firmly, interrupting whatever he was trying to pitch.
Her head snaps back to face me.
“I've hired her on exclusively until she does what she needs to do to get me back on the field. She provides therapy for me alone. After that, anyone can have her.”
Her mouth twitches, and those amber eyes drill holes into me with their angry heat.
Yeah, that kinda came out wrong, didn't it?
“Well Dylan, I'll be calling you as soon as that day comes,” Jakwon tells her with an easy smile. “Honestly, it’s been a pleasure. Can't wait to work together soon.”
No. No. And fuck no.
She smiles and finishes with sentiments before getting up from the table and standing alongside me. I hold my hand out, guiding the way. Her eyes fall to my hand, then return to my gaze. I almost chuckle at the fact that the enraged look she’s giving me is usually one I only get the pleasure of seeing from defenders actively trying to destroy me on the field, not sweet little ladies whose job is to heal.
Just as we stride out of the dinner together, she hustles past me as I try to keep up, easily walking three steps in front of me and my crutch-ridden body until she reaches the elevators.
Lucky for me, the elevator door doesn't open until I get there. She huffs in frustration when I reach her, but whatever. Not my problem.
We both walk in, and she pushes the button for my floor first with a punch before pushing the one for hers. Silence is eating me alive in this small space while anger radiates off of her like a building volcano, ready to erupt.
She leans against the furthest corner of the small square with her arms over her chest, watching the doors as they open. I stay put, not getting off on my floor.
“What are you doing?” she asks with a bite to her tone, dropping her hands and turning to face me.
“I'm walking you to your door,” I explain calmly.
“I don't need you to walk me to the door, Lake.” She says my name like it disgusts her.
“Well, I’m going to.” I snap back.
The doors open to her floor and she marches out, walking the ten feet to her door. She’s flustered as her hands shuffle through items in her bag. Finally finding her room key, she throws the bag onto the floor between our feet.
“You know what? No.” She laughs to herself. “I don’tneedanything from you.”
I watch in confusion as she aggressively unzips her top, pulling the jacket open and exposing her bra and stomach to me.
“I don't want to give you the wrong impression.” She continues pulling the sleeves down her bare arms. “I don'tneedyou or your kindness, Lake. You're no hero to me.”
She removes the jacket and throws it at me. I catch it with one hand, pulling the material down my face just in time to see her taking her pants off.
Oh shit.
“Dylan, stop.”
It’s too late. My jaw hits the floor as she stands before me in nothing but a white Calvin Klein bra and thong set. This isn’t the time to be ogling the goodies, but Jesus Christ, that stomach. Those breasts. Those fucking thighs. I'm suddenly starved, my mouth salivating at this saucy little vixen who's unleashing this heated rage while undressing before me in the hallway of this hotel.
Pants hit my face next, blocking the rest of my vision as she slips into the room, the door slamming behind her.
I stand there in total shock, staring at the door with a Nike jacket hanging over my shoulder and the pants hooked on my crutch.
My mouth is still open as the door cracks open, and I get hit in the face with the bra and thong.
And the last thing I see before the door slams shut for the night is her hand flipping me the bird.
15
