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The oven timer goes off again, snapping me out of the Brock haze. Just before I turn, I catch Ashton giving him a slight nod before closing the door.
Kennedy gives me side looks as we move about the kitchen. When I take food out to place on the table, the guys also give me wary looks. Thankfully, no one asks me about how I am feeling or brings up the party invitation. Even if they did ask, I am not sure I have any answers.
Dinner is strained; none of the usual banter or conversation is going on. Only the sound of utensils scraping against the plates can be heard. Tears prick my eyes, knowing that the atmosphere in tense because of me. I just don’t know how to get out of this or what to do next.
As soon as we finish eating, I escape to my room since the guys offer to clean up.
Flopping down on my bed, I stare at the ceiling.
Why does Brock affect me so much?
Unable to fall asleep, an unexplained restlessness courses through my veins, and I decide to try getting a hot shower. Hopefully, standing under the warm spray will help relax me.
Turning on the water, giving it a chance to warm up, I strip out of my clothes, just leaving them in a pile on the floor as steam starts to fill the room. Stepping inside, a soft moan escapes my lips as the warmth hits my tense body.
Letting the water beat against my back for several minutes, my eyes drift closed. Images of Rodney, wearing only a towel as water runs down his muscled chest, pop into my head. Shaking my head in shame at the inappropriate thoughts of my best friend’s boyfriend, Brock’s image takes his place. My head tips back as my hands reach up to tug on my hard nipples and massage my breasts.
My right hand drifts down to my pussy, rubbing soft circles against my clit. A moan escapes my lips, and instead of picturing Rodney, Brock’s image floats into my mind. Picturing his rough and callused hands rubbing my nub, sliding down to pull up some of the wetness to ease the friction. Fingers drift to my channel as moisture pools between my legs. Slipping one finger inside my body, my back arches. My left hand abandons my nipple as I move it to my clit. Rubbing the same small circles, the pressure increases. In and out, my fingers move, lost in the haze of lust, unsure when the second one joined the first.
Dirty words float through my head in Brock’s baritone voice. My pussy weeps, and despite being under the spray of water, my juices drip down my thighs. Increasing the speed of my fingers as they slide in and out of my body and the pressure on my clit, my orgasm rapidly approaches. Slipping in a third finger is all it takes to send me spiraling over the edge, calling out Brock’s name as I fall.
Easing up the pressure, my movements slow, working myself through the spasms. My chest is heaving at the energy spent, butmy body is much more relaxed. The tension has washed down the drain with the cooling water.
Washing quickly, I shut the water off before it goes completely cold. Toweling off and grabbing the clothes off the floor, I open the bathroom door to find a smirking Kennedy sitting on the bed, staring at me.
“I was going to ask how you were, but that little display tells me what I wanted to know,” she says, laughter in her voice. My cheeks turn red, knowing that she heard me, but I don’t comment, moving about the room and pulling on clothes.
“Don’t you have a man to fuck, or something?” I snark, no real venom behind it.
Kennedy laughs at my attempt to shift the focus away from me. Rising to her feet, a broad smile on her face, she steps closer to me. Pulling me in for a hug, her words are slightly muffled by the towel now wrapped around my head.
“We need to go to that party tomorrow.”
My body stiffens at her words. She steps back, grasping my shoulders and holding me at arm's length.
Kennedy speaks again as I open my mouth to dispute her statement. “You need to show Brock and his teammates that what happened doesn’t bother you. You have ignored him long enough. If you show them that they can walk over you, they will.”
We stand in place, neither of us saying anything. My relaxed state from the shower is quickly being replaced by worry.
“Me and the guys will be going to the party with you. You don’t have to do it alone,” she assures me.
After a few more minutes, I jerk my head in agreement, causing the towel to fall into my face. Kennedy catches the towel, tossing it aside before me pulling me to her in a fierce hug. Dread pools in my belly, and an unease washes over me. Something tells me this party is not going to end well.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The party is in full swing and still no response from Kassidy.
Our opening week went great. Of the five games we played, we won four of them. Our next game, the home opener, is Monday evening. We all served our punishment that Coach dolled out for the incident on the bus. All the guys have been giving me a wide berth at the miserable mood I have been in since last Saturday morning when we realized Kassidy was missing.
Sipping my almost warm beer, my eyes don’t waver from the front door. Leaning against the wall, everyone skirts around me, annoyance radiating off me in waves. A cloud of perfume precedes the overly made-up face and over-processed hair that blocks my vision of the front door. Looking down my nose at Danica, I raise an eyebrow in question, not saying a word.
Her lips tip up on one side as she runs a painted fingernail down my chest. She takes the cup from my hands, guzzling the contents until the cup is empty. Danica makes a face before setting the cup aside, grasping my hand, and tugging me behind her as we make our way to the stairs.
Digging my heels in, our progress halts as I yank my hand from hers.
“What do you want, Danica?”
“Let me take care of you, Brock. It’s obvious the mouse isn’t doing a good job,” she says in what is supposed to be a seductive voice.
