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Meghan
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“Good morning! Doc gave us the go ahead to add more weights and resistance training.” Chase smiled when he walked into the studio. A happy surprise, since he usually groaned and complained the moment he entered my presence. Also, a little too perky for eight in the morning.
When I grabbed the blocks, I added two five-pound dumbbells to my stack of equipment.
“Let’s try adding weight wall angels, since that’s your strongest stretch. Try a few, and if it gets to be too much, let me know.” I handed him the weights.
He kept his arms on the wall to isolate the right muscles. He pushed up with a small wince, the type that comes from work, not pain.
“That’s one. Keep going.” He worked the muscles in his forearm until the little vein popped. I licked my lips.
Is it hotter in here today? I might need some Chapstick, or some water to douse the heat growing inside my body.
Chase finished the set and carefully set the dumbbells on the mat. He moved onto a few other stretches we had been working on.
“So, Doc is pretty happy with your new x-rays?” I asked as I practiced a few yoga poses. I figured, if we’re in the studio, I may as well use it too.
“Yep. Coach, too. They told me not to let you go.” He winked. A monstrosity of butterflies swarmed my insides. I blinked a few times, attempting to process his words.
“You should keep that coach around. He gives excellent advice.” I shifted into downward dog by shoving my ass into the air and stretching my hands out front.
I hadn’t really put much thought into my outfits for our little stretch sessions. Chase probably had the perfect vantage point to check out my ass. Luckily, the material was pretty thick. I don’t think he could see my thong through the fabric.
Rosie gave me shit for pinning my hair into a nice tight bun and checking my makeup before I left the house. It wasn’t like I was dressing up for Chase. Honestly, it made me feel better. Reading my dad’s journal, driving my jeep, spending time with the boy I grew up with—it brought me closer to the person inside of me that I pushed away far too long. She wanted to break the chains. She needed to carry on.
Taking the next step would be challenging, and I’d probably fall flat on my ass at least one or two more times. It didn’t matter. I needed to take a leap of faith and forge my own path. It was time to make a decision between becoming the person I had to in order to overcome the darkness in my life, and, becoming the person that made me happy. The person I wanted to believe in and love.
The real Meghan Grace was ready to step into the light.
“Ugh, Meghan? You okay? Your head is looking a little blue and your fingers are turning white.” Chase tapped my back.
I shifted into a warrior two pose. I inhaled a deep breath, held on tight, then released the negative energy I’d clung to for years.
“I feel amazing. How about you? Shoulder feeling okay with the weights?” I noticed he grabbed his sling and was working to put it back on. Over the last week or so, I noticed he did that when the work became too much for him.
“A bit sore,” he replied. He picked up his mat and pulled it closer to me.
“I think I might have something we can try.” I flipped through the pages of Dad’s coaching bible. “Ah-ha!”
I shoved the notebook into Chase’s lap and pointed to the page. Good thing the book was between us, otherwise, my finger would have pointed to something much more exciting than the book.
He scanned the page. “Secret Formula? Massage potions?”
Dad’s notebook had a recipe for some miracle cream. One of the ingredients I’d never heard of before, but Amazon helped me ship them overnight. “Yep! Lavender, Epsom salt, a little water and Yarrow.”
He looked so cute with a dumbfounded expression. “Yarrow? What’s that?”
Like I fucking know... “It’s a secret. Only Dad and I can know.”
I grabbed a plastic Tupperware container from my backpack. “Here you go. I already mixed it all up.
He held the mixture up to the light. His mouth twisted and turned. “Looks weird.”
“Whatever. Try it!”
He peeled his shirt over his head, popped open the container and grabbed a big glob of my homemade remedy. He smeared the cream all over his shoulder, not paying any attention to the chunks. He spread most of it on the part of his back that wasn’t even injured.
“You’re making a mess,” I quipped.
“Then you do it.” He glared at me.
I snatched the container from his hands and gently massaged it along his collarbone.
“Is this okay?” I worked the cream into his muscles as carefully as I could.
“Harder.” I watched him close his eyes from the studio mirrors.
“So good.” He moaned, and his shoulders relaxed.
I clenched my thighs. Can boys smell arousal? I accidentally groaned.
“Smells good.” I coughed to cover the noise I didn’t mean to make.
“Can you do the other side, too?” He asked, though I was already planning to.
Heat spread through my fingers as they brushed against his collar, his neck, and his other side. I worked the cream into his skin in soft, little circles.
“Don’t stop.” He whispered.
Moisture pooled in my center. I bit my lip to bite back another moan. Damn the things his body does to mine.
“It smells like flowers.” He kept his eyes closed. If someone were to walk by the studio, and glance through the glass walls, they’d wonder what we were up to. But, oh boy, if they could hear the sounds he made through the walls. Well, then we’d probably be placed on academic probation.
I rubbed every drop of cream into his shoulders and his back. When I paused, he grabbed my hands and pulled them to his chests. “These muscles are tight too.”
I used my thumbs to add a little pressure to his pectoral muscles.
“This is kind of a weird angle.” I took a seat in front of him on his mat.
He leaned into my touch the moment my fingers came in contact with his skin. “More.”
I leaned in too, using my upper body to apply a little more pressure. If either of us wiggled an inch, we’d be past first down and headed to second.
He leaned his forehead against mine. Oh shit, the offense has taken the field. The Pass has been thrown.
He rubbed his nose against mine. The receiver catches the ball.
I closed my eyes to match his. His lips connected to mine. He tastes even better without the whipped cream. Run for the end zone, player.
He moved his hand to my cheek, drawing me further into him.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me like there was no tomorrow.
I moved to my knees, he followed. I moaned into his mouth, and the noise he made in return made my mouth water. He worked his way down my neck. I threw my head to the side to give him better access. He nibbled on my ear, and I wished I wore thicker pants, moisture ran out of my folds and onto my thighs.
He trailed his index finger over the curves of my breasts and down the center of my chest. My breaths became ragged and deep. I watched him trace my belly button and the edge of my pants.
He looked into my eyes.
“Do it,” my voice was only a whisper.
He slid his hands past my pants and into my lace thong. I rested my head on his non-injured shoulder to keep from falling over. His finger danced along my most sensitive edges before he dipped inside.
“Yes,” I pressed into his hands.
He pumped faster.
“More,” I begged.
He added another finger.
“I want you,” He whispered into my ear.
I didn’t care that the walls were made of glass or that the walls were paper thin. The fire burning deep in my core ran rampant. Only one thing could squelch my need.
Him.
