I feel like shit, and it’s not related to my diet. It’s also not related to the ramped up physical torture Lucy has been putting us through the past few weeks.
My mood is 100 per cent related to my fucked up family situation and my love life. Exactly what I screamed at Lucy for suggesting. She’s absolutely right that the thing I need to do most is sort out my feelings about my father, but so far I haven’t even called my brother back.
Tim texted me that he’s got an inside source at The Post who is keeping the story hushed until the Stag family works out a response. He included me in that phrase. The Stag family. I haven’t even met any of them apart from Tim.
I’m not speaking to my mom right now, either. I’m pretty much just going balls out every day at practice and then holing up in my apartment with canned tuna and my own misery. No Lucy. No family. The more I circle around it, the more I feel angry that I yelled at this woman who’s just trying to mind her own business and keep her job.
I know I owe her an apology but I also don’t know how to go about doing that in a way that doesn’t further jeopardize her situation here at work. The longer I go without talking to her, the bigger it all seems. I don’t fucking know how to talk to women. I’ve always been focused on soccer, unless I was focused on bringing in more money for me and my mom. Relationships always just seemed like a distraction.
I can’t figure out why it bothers me that this woman is everything I say I want. She’s hot, she’s fantastic in bed, and she doesn’t want anything from me apart from my cock. So why is it I fall asleep each night thinking about her laugh?
Yesterday at practice, she worked us to the bone. And in the afternoon team session, we played better. As a team, we were cohesive. Sharp. We all feel immediate effects from Lucy’s work, and even if she took away all our ice cream and burgers until further notice, she’s definitely earned the respect of every man on this field.
And that? That’s irresistible to me.
I’m supposed to be working the battling ropes again this morning, two massive black ropes I’m supposed to thump on the ground and shake until my abs feel like they’ll tear. But all I can do is stare at her as she helps Reggie to fasten the resistance parachute around his waist.
I hear her telling him this will help his acceleration, make him better able to burst onto a pass when it’s headed to space. And I know she’s not having a sexual response to wrapping her arms around him to buckle the chute. But as I growl at the ropes all I can think about is the feel of her nipples against his back and that it should be me receiving all her touches.
In another world, where she wasn’t terrified, she’d be rubbed up against me, helping me train, kissing me when I have a good game. But this isn’t another world and the woman who should be mine…can’t be.
Fuck. Lucy doesn’t need someone else going caveman on her, acting possessive. That’s the opposite of what she needs. I need to hone my focus on this impossible workout. Burn the lust right out of my body.
But then she walks near me and picks up that fucking whistle and puts it between her plump lips. I stare as she purses her mouth and gets ready to blow. And I damn near come in my pants. Fuck.
When Coach announces we’re ready for cooldown, I throw the ropes on the ground and sprint to the locker room. I can’t fucking deal with “gentle stretches” today. I’m too worked up. I march directly to the showers, throwing my clothes on the ground in my wake. I’ll pick them up before the team manager comes for the laundry. I need to calm down.
I blast the water on full pressure and stand there, steaming under the hot spray.
“Hawk!” Shit. I hear her voice even in here, where the steam of the shower is supposed to drown out my reactions.
“Hawk, I’m talking to you. You need to cool down properly—you can’t just storm off the field. They’re having a meeting out there!” I whip my head around the glass partition of the showers and I see Lucy standing in the locker rooms with her hands on her hips. The water pelts down on me as I stare at her and her eyes narrow in on my dick, standing straight up against my stomach now. My nostrils flare as she looks.
I press a palm to the glass and bring my other hand to my cock, and give it one hard pull. And then Lucy licks her lips and I’m on her, pressing her back against a row of lockers with a crash. Her breath whooshes out before I press my lips to hers. Her fingers slide into my wet hair and I nip at her neck, looking down as my wet skin soaks her gold Forge t-shirt.
“Hawk,” she breathes. “Someone could come in here.”
“Let them fucking see, Lucy. Look how bad I want you.” I bring her hand to my cock and she groans, her hips jutting forward. “I’ll fuck you so fast, Lucy. You’ll come so hard.” She licks my collar bone and she must taste the sweat there. I feel her hand dig into my ass, her fingers kneading the sore muscles.
I reach for the waistband of her shorts, sliding a hand inside and finding her wet. She gasps as I trace a finger along her seam. “Let me make you come again, Lucy.” My breath is hot on her cheek and I resist the urge to yank her ponytail and drag her into the shower. I trace her clit with my finger, feeling her squirm.
I want her to scream my name. I want to bite into her neck and mark her as mine. My lips meet hers in a fierce collision and her moans erupt into my mouth. She’s close, so close, and I’m so turned on by the sight of her, wet from touching me, wrecked by my touch. I grab her thigh with one hand and hoist her leg up around my hip. “Look how good we are together, Lucy. Fuck, I need you.”
Suddenly Lucy stiffens and she pulls her head back. I don’t know what I said, but the moment is gone. I can feel it in the air around her as much as her posture. I back away and she ducks out from under my arm, damp from the water on my body.
She shakes her head, her lip trembling. I reach for her but pause, my hand in the air. “What do you want from me, Hawk? You told me to call someone else when I feel horny. You want me to sleep over? Hold you? Because you know damn well that can never happen. I’ve got enough demands on my affection.” She spins on her heel and reaches for a towel on the cart by the showers. She throws it against my chest. “Pick up your shit when you’re done.”