by R.S. Grey
Her hands gripped my shoulders, squeezing and digging into my flesh as she rode out the rest of her orgasm. It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen—and I knew I wasn’t even close to being done with her.
“Erik...” She squeezed her eyes closed and leaned back against the steering wheel. My finger was still inside her, stretching her gently. “I…just…give me a second.”
I didn’t listen. My finger was back to rubbing her in soft circles as she jerked against me, still so sensitive and raw from coming undone a second before.
“That was easy,” I said with a little smirk.
I knew the last few weeks had felt like the world’s longest foreplay, but she had still come apart in my hands with barely any goading at all.
Her eyes flew open and she narrowed them on me. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Her hips rolled to meet my finger. Even then, she wanted more. She was begging me for it.
I leaned forward, squeezing her neck. “Actually, I think I will.”
“Oh my god, there it goes.”
With a quick shove, she pushed away from my chest and unhooked her legs from around my hips to move back to reclaim her spot on the passenger side of the truck.
I laughed incredulously. “What?”
She shook her head and tried to straighten her dress, concealing her body from my gaze. “Your ego seriously knows no bounds. I knew it’d be impossible for you to just keep your mouth shut for two seconds.”
I leaned toward her, sensing her lust turning into anger. “I just had you splayed out on my lap and it took hardly anything, just one finger and you were throwing your head back, screaming my name.”
She crossed her arms. “Fuck off. You know, you talk a big game about being this big bad man, but who was really in control just then? It seems to me you were the one that drove downtown to find me, you were the one to pull over after I said one little sentence, and now you’re the one sitting here with blue balls, not me.”
I smirked. It would take more than a taunting to make me crack. “I guess it’s a matter of perspective.”
She turned her head toward the passenger side window so I couldn’t see her reaction. “Start the car, Erik.”
“Not until you tell me what it felt like when I touched you.”
“Worse than I could have possibly imagined.”
I nearly laughed as I started the car and pulled off the shoulder, but I knew it would set her off even more. She was a little ball of fire, always burning. She couldn’t just let herself enjoy a moment with me and it was a reminder of why I wasn’t interested in girls her age.
We pulled into the gravel drive back at my house and she hopped out of the car, leaning back in to grab her purse from where it’d fallen on the baseboards. “And just so we’re clear,” she said, eyeing me with a smoldering glare. “If you ever try to touch me again, I’ll bite your hand off.”
She slammed the door hard and turned for the guesthouse. I sat in my truck, watching her walk away and taking in the curve of her ass in her tight dress. I was so fucking hard. I palmed my erection through my jeans, trying to ease the tension she’d just built up inside me.
She whipped the front door open and I hunched forward, absentmindedly stroking my dick and trying to make sense of the last hour. I laughed, thinking of how stressed I’d been about Rio the last few days. Hell, it didn’t even matter anymore. I doubted either of us would make it there in two weeks. She’d eat me alive well before then.
Chapter Eighteen
Brie
The next few days passed in a blur. If I wasn’t at Seattle Flyers, I was working out on Erik’s property, going for runs, fielding my mom’s calls, or hanging out with the team. I was running on fumes and I barely had time to squeeze in basic hygiene, but it felt good. I was slowly starting to get more confident in myself, but the Olympics were quickly approaching and my routines still weren’t where they should have been.
“Again,” Erik said.
I glanced up to see him standing at the end of the beam, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on me. I stretched my arms overhead to gain momentum for the sequence, but he shook his head.
“From the mount.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and hopped off the beam, tired and wishing practice would end already. For the last few days, we’d both done our best to avoid one another. I gave him space and he did the same. We staggered our morning runs and generally stayed away from each other in the gym. Despite what he’d done to me in the front seat of his truck, he was still my coach, which meant I couldn’t avoid him forever.
“You feel that ache in your muscles?” he asked as I tried to catch my breath. I’d lost track of how many routines I’d completed that day, but Erik still wasn’t satisfied.
I reached up and massaged my arms. They were tired and shaky. There was chalk and sweat all over them, but Erik knew my limit; he knew how far to push me before I collapsed.
“Use it. You’re going to be exhausted when you get to this event. Your muscles are going to tell you to quit, but you need to override them. Make this routine just as good as the very first one you did today.”
I inhaled a deep breath and nodded, feeling strength building in my body.
Beam was mine. It came so easy to me.
I just had to own it.
Beam was made up of difficult skills disguised by beauty and grace. My years of ballet came in handy the most in this event. I finished my first pass: back handspring, back handspring, layout full connected to a Korbut. The Korbut was one of the hardest skills in my routine. It started with a backflip, but instead of landing back on my feet, I had to pause my momentum midway through and catch the beam with my hands, slowly lowering myself down to straddle the beam. If I didn’t slow my momentum enough or if my hands didn’t catch the beam in time, my thighs collided with the beam hard enough to make me see stars. I’d messed the skill up enough times to know I needed to stay controlled and nail it or I’d have bruises to contend with later.
I finished the Korbut and moved into my next piece of choreography, but Erik’s voice cut through the gym.
“Stop,” he said, cutting me off. I jerked my head up and stared at him. “You’re still not trusting your body. You’re hesitating on the layout, and the Korbut was weak. I could see you nearly falter at the end, scared to hurt yourself.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. “Of course I’m scared! Have you ever split the beam? It freaking hurts.”
He shook his head. “It’s too late in the game for that. Your routine has a 9.1 start value; that’s the highest in the world. You’ve done that skill a thousand times; stop acting like this is your first day in the gym.”
He didn’t give me time to reply before he walked away to help June on uneven bars; just as his back was turned, I flipped him off with both hands.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
God, I hated him.
Later that day, after I’d showered and iced my aching muscles, I stood at the living room window, peering past the curtain and studying the hot tub that sat in the backyard between Erik’s house and the guesthouse. There was a plastic covering on top, but I wanted to try it out. The temperatures had dropped to the 50s now that the sun had set, and it would definitely feel good to sink into the hot water and let my body relax for a while.
“Wondering where Erik is?” Molly asked, coming up to stand beside me.
The windows of his house were dark. His car was gone, and yes, I’d originally peeked through the window to try to figure out if he was home or not. Generally, it was easy to guess where he was—running, working out, or coaching at Seattle Flyers—but it was late and the chances that he was still up at his gym were slim to none. There were other options of course. Maybe he’d gone to dinner with friends or maybe he’d gone to a bar for a drink. Just the image of him sitting alone nursing a beer made my stomach churn. How many women approached him in one night? A handful? How many would he smile at? How many would
he ensnare with his good looks and smooth words?
And of course, there was the last option, the worst one of all. Maybe he wasn’t just out at a bar, trying to find a random fuck. Maybe he already had his sights set on a woman, someone as beautiful and smart as the blonde he’d brought home the week we’d arrived. That thought didn’t just make my stomach churn, it made my blood boil.
“Brie?”
I shrugged, realizing I’d never answered Molly. “I’m trying to figure out if it’s worth the risk to try out that hot tub.”
She perked up. “I’d go with you.”
I grinned; Erik tempered his anger around Molly since she was a longtime pupil. It was settled.
We gathered Rosie and Lexi and brought them up to speed on our plan. Rosie protested, of course, but we insisted Erik wouldn’t care. He’d specifically given us rules to follow, and not using the hot tub wasn’t part of that list, ergo, it was free rein.
“I don’t speak Latin!” Rosie said as we dragged her out of the house after us. “What does ‘ergo’ mean?”
“Hot tubs are meant to be used!” Lexi insisted, whipping off the heavy plastic top that protected the water when it wasn’t in use. She tossed it aside, propped her hands on her hips, and looked my way. “Now what?”
I was already shivering in my bikini and I had no clue how to operate a hot tub. “Look for an on/off switch?”
Molly snapped and offered up a sarcastic, “Stand back everyone, we’ve got a genius here!”
I flipped her off.
After a few more minutes of searching, we were no closer to turning on the hot tub. I reached in to test the water, just to see how cold it would be if we hopped in before it was heated.
“Oh hell no,” I said, jumping back. “It’s freezing.”
Rosie shook her head. “Someone should call Erik. We should ask for his permission to use it and he could help us turn it on.”
Three sets of eyes swung in my direction, but I shook my head adamantly. “No.”
“Yes,” they replied.
“He hates me.”
Lexi reached for where I’d stashed my phone on the ground beside our towels. “Here.”
His number had been included in the information packet, and before arriving in Seattle, I’d plugged it into my phone as Coach Winter. I smiled at how naive I’d been then.
“Do it,” Lexi said, pressing dial for me.
“No!” I protested, but it was too late.
He answered on the first ring and I let his deep voice glide over my skin for a beat too long.
“Hello?”
I blushed.
“Who is this?”
I’d forgotten he didn’t have my number.
I cleared my throat. “Uh…it’s Brie.”
His subtle groan proved he was less than enthusiastic to hear from me.
“This number is for emergencies.”
His voice faded at the end, like he was pulling the phone away from his ear to hang up.
“Wait! This is an emergency.”
He paused, giving me time to continue.
“We’re trying to figure out how to use the hot tub.”
I could hear the slight amusement in his voice when he spoke again. “And that’s an emergency because…”
“Our muscles are really sore from practice,” I insisted, trying to make it sound clinical, therapeutic. “The heat and bubbles will help loosen us up.”
“Brie—”
“Oh! I figured it out!” Molly exclaimed just before bubbles started erupting from the jets.
I smirked, though he couldn’t see it. “Never mind. Molly figured it out.”
There were voices in the background. Music too. I wanted to know what he was doing, but I didn’t want to seem desperate.
“Have fun on your date,” I added casually.
“I’m not on a date.”
“Oh.” I smiled, butterflies erupting in my stomach.
“You guys have an hour before I get home. Be out of the hot tub before then.”
“Or what?” I dared.
The line went dead. I glanced down at my phone to see he’d hung up. Jerk.
“Sorry.” Lexi shrugged. “Guess you didn’t need to call him after all.”
I tossed my phone onto our pile of towels and slid into the hot tub. It wasn’t hot yet, but it was starting to warm up fast and I was too cold to care. A few minutes later, we’d all settled into our designated sides, letting the jets pound against our aching muscles. It felt like heaven.
“Molly, do you and Host Boy fight a lot?” I asked, opening my eyes to peer over at her. She was as blissed out as I was.
She blushed at the mention of her crush. “No, not really. He’s super nice.”
I rolled my eyes, bored.
“My last boyfriend and I fought all the time,” Lexi offered up.
“Really?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but there was a language barrier there, so most of it was just miscommunication.”
“Did he ever infuriate you?”
She snorted. “Every day I was with him.”
“But you liked it?” I asked.
“I loved it,” she insisted. “He turned me on like crazy.”
“We heard you shout at Erik last night out front,” Rosie offered, blushing and glancing away when I met her eye.
“It sounded intense,” Molly added.
“It was nothing.” I shrugged and stared down at the water. “He just gets under my skin.”
“And under your dress too.”
I punched Lexi in the shoulder.
“Hey!”
“I told you that in confidence.”
She shrugged. “And then I told Molly and Rosie in confidence too. So now I’m confident we’re all up to speed.”
Molly was smiling, seemingly proud of me for acting on my crush on Erik, but Rosie was averting eye contact as if uncomfortable with the topic altogether.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she insisted. “I mean…he is handsome and I can’t really blame you, but are you sure it’s a good idea? Fooling around with him?”
I laughed at her question. “Of course I don’t think it’s a good idea! I have no clue what I’m doing. For all I know he’s out with another woman right now. I just…can’t really make myself stay away no matter how much he infuriates me.”
Lexi waggled her eyebrows. “Because you loooooovveeee him.”
I reached out to punch her arm, but she whipped out of the way before I could. I groaned and relaxed back against my side of the hot tub, trying to think of a way to turn the conversation away from Erik and me.
I turned my attention back to Molly. “Did you and Host Boy ever shout at each other like what you heard last night?”
She grinned. “No. Duncan is really easy to get along with. He’s sweet and considerate.”
Lexi held up her hand with a bored expression. “Say no more. Clearly, Molly is into some Full House shit, whereas you and me, Brie, we’re looking for the kind of love they can’t show on daytime television.”
“That’s not true! Sometimes he kisses me when his parents are home,” Molly added.
Lexi rolled her eyes. “Real titillating stuff, Molly. Tell us more.”
She crossed her arms to pout, but I nudged her shoulder playfully.
“It’s not that I enjoy arguing with Erik,” I continued, though it felt like a lie. Is it healthy to want to argue with someone? To get off on it? I sighed and stared up at the sky to avoid their judgmental stares. “I just can’t decide if I like him or if I hate him. One minute he drives me insane, and then the next he’s opening himself up to me. It’s hard to resist his vulnerable side.”
“Well, we have a week until the Olympics,” Lexi said. “I would figure out if you hate him or not before then.”
I scrunched my brows. “Why?”
Her smile unfurled, slow and devilish. “Because once you arrive in that Olympic Village and you see the wealth of athletes Rio has
to offer, he might not be worth the trouble anymore.”
Chapter Nineteen
Erik
“How is your team coming along?” my grandfather asked over the phone.
It’d been a few days since I’d last talked to him and I knew he was itching to talk about my father. For now, I was more than happy to discuss my work.
“They’re doing well, but I’m thinking of doing something different before we head to Rio.” I wedged the phone between my shoulder and cheek then leaned over to adjust the stuff sitting on the passenger seat of my truck. All afternoon, I’d run around like a mad man picking up things I needed for Rio. A garment bag blocked the window and I resisted the urge to toss it on the floorboard. My new tailored suit was inside—the one I’d need for formal events during the games—and though it was taking up too much room, I didn’t want to ruin it.
“Oh?” my grandfather asked, bringing my attention back to the call. “What did you have in mind?”
I stared back out to the road. “Just some personalized lessons for them. Cross-training of sorts. See, they’ve come up in this rigid gymnastics crucible that standardizes learning, even though they each have unique deficiencies to address. Like for instance, June moves like a robot on floor no matter how much I tell her to loosen up. I’m thinking of having her take a hip hop dance class.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like a good idea. What will you do for Brie then?”
I gripped the steering wheel, surprised to hear her name from him.
“Brie?”
“Yeah,” he continued. “I was just reading an article about her this morning. The press is going crazy. First time Olympian slotted to win gold on every event? It’s all anyone cares to talk about—well, her and that British swimmer. I think Brie is a bit more interesting though. I love a good underdog story.”
“Right.”
“So what does she need to help her improve? She looks pretty good from what I’ve seen.”
“It’s minor, but…she doesn’t trust her body. Gymnastics is more mental than it is physical, and she’s been psyching herself out over the last few weeks.”