AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She moves a little closer now so she can work on my upper thigh. I hold my breath, trying not to notice that her face is so close to mine now that I would barely have to move to kiss her. No, dammit, don’t think about that.
I glance at her hands. No ring. But I guess that doesn’t mean much since she probably would take it off when she goes to work. She presses her thumbs into my muscle and runs them the length of my quad, working the oil into my skin. The warmth of her touch is so familiar, so perfect, that I find the last two years erasing from my mind. All the pain, all the questions seem pointless now that she’s right here again.
Before I can stop myself, I say, “Why’d you move to Florida? For some guy.”
"Something like that." Her voice is quiet, and I can't read the expression on her face. She doesn't seem to want to fight. She doesn't want to talk. I watch as she lifts her hands from my leg and walks to the counter to get more oil.
God, she has the best curves I’ve seen. It’s all I can do to stay on the table instead of getting up and walking up behind her and pressing myself against her back.
“I need you to lay down so I can work the entire quad.”
“Sure thing, Jess. Whatever you need.”
Thirteen
Jess
Whatever I need? How about some money so I can move out of my aunt’s house and afford to buy your son a new car seat? How about an explanation as to why you pretended you loved me after you left town? Or why you never called me back?
Angry thoughts swirl through my head as I work on his leg. I’m not just furious at him but at myself, too. I promised myself that if I saw him again, I’d slap him in the face and walk away. I promised I’d never let myself want him again. I promised I’d move on and find someone better, someone who would really love me, but I haven’t. I haven’t kept even one of my promises when it comes to Ethan.
Instead, I’m alive with lust and an angry passion at seeing him in only a towel. Touching him is like torture for me. My body is betraying my heart by wanting him to kiss me and rip off my clothes and lay me down on the table so he can fill me full of that big hard cock of his.
Part of me wants to just blurt it out—to tell him he has a son who looks just like him and can already run as fast as a three-year-old even though he's not much past one. I don't know if I should feel guilty for keeping Will a secret or if I've been doing Ethan a favor by letting him off the hook. I've thought about telling him so many times in the past two years. Different scenarios where I call the team's head office and demand that they pass a message on, or I post about our love child on social media and cause a big scandal.
In my weaker moments, I've fantasized that he would come looking for me and would wrap me in his big, muscly arms and tell me that he'd never let me go. Then, I'd tell him about our child, and he'd be so happy, his eyes would fill with tears, and we'd go straight down to the courthouse to get married.
But instead, I've done nothing but sit back and be too scared to do anything. And now, I'm too scared to lose my job to stand up to him or tell him the truth. So, I do my best to concentrate on what my hands are doing, and I take my time, hoping he'll say something that will help me understand why he ditched me.
I press extra hard with my thumbs and Ethan winces.
“Sorry,” I say, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “Just let me know if anything I’m doing hurts.”
“You mean like disappearing from my life without an explanation?” he asks, his tone full of venom.
I pull my hands away. “What are you talking about? I disappeared? I left messages on your cell phone. You never called me back.”
“What?” He sits up, his eyebrows narrowing as he stares at me.
"I left you several messages. You never called back." My voice comes out weak and breathless, and I hate myself for it.
“When?”
“Two months after you and I…” I can’t bring myself to say it. Suddenly, it’s all too much. I have to get out of here before I break down. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t go back.”
Ethan opens his mouth to speak, and I can tell by the look on his face, he's mad as hell. There's a knock at the door before he can say anything and it swings open, revealing one of the team's trainers. He pokes his head in and says, "Almost done? We need you on the field."
"We're all done here," I say, walking to the counter to pick up a hand towel.
“Good. Thanks, ummm…”
“Jess.”
“Right. Thanks, Jess. Send the bill to our head office, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Ethan, let’s go. We don’t have a lot of time.” The man says.
