Sweet Spot

by Rebecca Jenshak

  She’s quiet for a second, and I wonder if she’s trying to find a nice way to turn me down or maybe she passed out.

  “Keira?”

  “Will you sleep with your shirt off this time?”

  It’s just as beautiful as the weatherman predicted. The sky is a brilliant blue, the few clouds look as if they were painted on, and there is just enough of a breeze to need long sleeves. I do a lot of small clinics at my home course, and today, I’m teaching a bunch of Pop’s old friends and students how to adjust their putting speed.

  This kind of thing is far more laid back since most of the guys have known me since I was a kid following Pop around. The country club was my daycare and my playground far before it became my office, and these guys will never let me forget it.

  “Hey, Linc, the wife said you turned down our Franny.” Darrell raises his head to see my reaction before he takes another putt. “My granddaughter not good enough for you?”

  “My Angel, too,” Lance pipes in. “Something wrong with your equipment, son?” He uses the end of his putter to point toward my crotch.

  “The wife says he’s brooding after the divorce.”

  “I’m not brooding, and my equipment is just fine. Your lag putting, on the other hand, is shit. Focus on that, Darrell.”

  The guys snicker, and I shake my head.

  As we are finishing, Keira arrives wearing a black skirt that shows off her toned legs and a blue zip-up that’s skin-tight, highlighting her athletic curves without revealing any skin.

  Her sunglasses sit on top of her head, hair still down, though I know from the many times I’ve watched her play or practice, she’ll take the unicorn scrunchie from her right wrist and secure it back before she starts.

  “Hey,” she greets me and glances over at the guys and gives them a shy wave. They’ve all stopped what they were doing to check her out. Our clientele is very strongly in the sixty-plus age bracket, so they aren’t shy about their interest in her. “I thought I’d hit the driving range if you’re still working.”

  “It’s all right. We’re done here,” I say loudly enough that the guys can hear me. “Nice work today, guys. See ya next time.”

  With a wave and a few personal goodbyes, I collect my stuff, and Keira and I head toward my golf cart. “Do you still want to hit a few balls or are you ready to go out?”

  “I actually already hit a small bucket. I got here early and didn’t want to disturb you,” she says as she slides into the passenger side.

  While we wait to tee off at the first hole, Keira takes a long drink from her water bottle.

  “Hung over?”

  She gives me a small, rueful grin. “A little. Sorry for the late-night call.”

  “Don’t be. You can always call me. Besides, you’re a funny drunk. What was the occasion anyway?”

  “Just some girl time. Seems like I have less and less time every week. Not that I’m complaining,” she adds quickly and then elbows me. “My coach is a real hard ass.”

  “Yeah?”

  The wind blows her hair around her face, and I push it back with my fingers, resting my thumb on her cheek. When she leans into the touch, it answers the question I’ve had all week on whether or not I imagined the chemistry between us last weekend. Her eyes fall to my lips.

  Another cart pulls up behind us at the tee box, and I let my hand fall away.

  Forcing myself from the cart, I stand and grab my driver from my bag in the back, and then toss her a cocky smirk. “Your hard ass coach is about to kick yours.”

  We zip through the course, playing through other groups. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. I don’t coach her unless she asks for specific feedback, and instead, we take turns launching bombs down the fairway and enjoy being on the course together.

  As we finish on eighteen and head into the clubhouse, Darrell and Lance are standing behind their cars while the kid from the pro shop puts their bags in their respective trunks for them.

  “Well, look who it is,” Lance says. He smiles at Keira. “Lovely day for golf.”

  “It was.” She smiles back at them, sun-kissed skin alive with excitement.

  “What about you, Linc? Did you have a good time?” Lance asks, a hint of humor in his tone. He places his white golf glove in his back pocket.

  Darrell smirks. “Guess it wasn’t your equipment after all, just reserved for someone else?”

  I shake my head. “See you guys later.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Keira’s eyes are wide with excitement as I guide her through the arena. “I feel like I should have changed or put on some fresh deodorant or something.” She smooths a hand over her hair.

  She looks beautiful in a golf skirt and spandex shirt. Her face is free of makeup but painted with a glow from the sun.

  “I have you covered,” I say and point to a table of Suns merchandise.

  She looks over every item before she narrows it down between a hat and a T-shirt each with the team logo.

  “She’ll take both,” I tell the guy and hand him the money for it.

  “Thank you.” She pulls on the T-shirt over the one she was wearing and then places both hands on her hips. “What do you think?”

  I set the hat on her head. It’s too big and nearly covers her eyes. “Perfect.”

  Stepping closer, I adjust the cap, tuck her hair behind one ear, and let my hand linger at her neck. She leans into my fingers, and the day of being around her with only small touches and no kissing has officially become too much. I’ve been itching to feel more of her, brush my lips against hers.

  The thing is, I knew it’d be just like this once I gave in—an obsessive desire to touch her all the time. And as super as that sounds, Keira isn’t just some girl I’m seeing. Lines have blurred, for sure, but I still have a job to do. And right now that job is to reward her for all her hard work.

  “Come on, stinky.” I let my hand fall away and take hold of hers, interlocking our fingers.

  Seeing Keira’s excitement as we sit behind the team is worth everything I own and then some. The team is still warming up, and Keira perches on the edge of her chair, one hand squeezing my thigh as she takes it all in. Zeke Sweets, the team’s rising star, waves and walks over when he spots me.

  “Hey, Zeke, how are you?” I stand and shake his hand.

  “Good, good. Nice to see you.” He glances at Keira and smiles timidly. For all his stardom, he’s a pretty quiet guy.

  “Zeke, this is Keira. Keira, this is—”

  She stands. “Zeke Sweets, I know. You went to Valley, too. My dad and I have been following your career. You’re amazing. Incredible. Really, I’m a big fan.”

  The big guy smiles for real at her cute rambling. “Thank you.”

  “Keira plays golf at Valley,” I tell him and watch her face pink. She’s freaking adorable all flustered in front of Zeke.

  “That’s great. I hear the team’s pretty good.” He holds the basketball at his side, giving Keira his full attention.

  “You follow golf?” Her jaw drops, and I can’t resist chuckling at how awestruck she is.

  “I keep an eye on all the Valley teams. Gotta rep the alma mater.” He glances over his shoulder. “I should get back out there. Good to see you, Linc.” He smiles at Keira. “Really nice to meet you. Good luck on the rest of the season.”

  Keira turns to me when Zeke walks away, opens her mouth, and lets out a long, quiet scream. “I can’t believe I just met Zeke Sweets. Your life really is awesome.”

  I nod and drape an arm around her shoulders. “It really is.”

  I pull into the garage, kill the engine, and turn to Keira, who slept almost the whole way back to my place.

  “Rise and shine, beautiful.”

  She lifts her head slowly from the headrest and looks around.

  “Where are we?”

  “My place,” I say before sliding from the car.

  She’s unbuckled and sitting up by the time I get around the vehicle to open her
door. When she places her hand in mine and I start to lead her inside, a weird sensation pulses through my body. It takes me a second to decode the feeling. I’m nervous.

  My apartment isn’t big. Kitchen, living-dining room combo, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and it’s sparsely decorated. I’m sure it screams divorced, single man, but Keira walks into the middle of the living room and turns a circle. When her brown eyes land back on me, there’s nothing but delight on her face.

  “I love it. It’s exactly how I pictured it. The space is great.”

  I chuckle and walk to her, wrap my arms around her waist. “I forget you’ve already seen most of my place.”

  “Only in pieces. Plus, I was distracted by you.”

  She tips up onto her toes, and I lean down to take her lips in a quick kiss.

  “I’m not here often, but it’s on the course and near Gram.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her most my stuff is in storage, make excuses for how bland it is, but then that makes me think of Lacey and how I still haven’t called her back.

  “I like it. Honest. It suits you.”

  I’m not sure what that says about me, but I don’t think on it too hard.

  She goes to the couch and sits, making a big show of crossing her arms over her chest, leaning back, and putting her feet on my coffee table. Forcing a frown, she asks, “Who am I?” Her voice deepens in a shit impersonation of me. “One hundred more reps. Do it until you get it right, and then do it until you can’t do it wrong. No, no, no. That’s garbage! Who taught you how to swing a club?”

  “I don’t sound like that, smartass.” I fall onto the cushion beside her and pull her onto my lap, remove my hat and toss it onto the table, then run a hand over my matted down hair. Her eyes follow the movement and then her fingers come up to take over, gently threading through the strands.

  My scalp pricks at her touch, and a pleasant warmth spreads through my body. “That feels good.”

  She scoots farther onto my lap, knees inching toward the back of the couch. The black skirt she’s wearing lays flat, so I’m not getting a show, but the position and all the ways our bodies are touching is almost as good. My eyes fall closed, and I relax into the leather as she continues to comb through my hair with her fingers.

  I bring my hands to her thighs and run my thumb along the hem of her skirt. Her skin is smooth and taut, and even though I’m not looking, I can recall her legs in vivid detail from the hundreds of times I’ve seen them on video.

  I’m tired. A bone-deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with lack of sleep and everything to do with the restraint I’ve been holding on to all day. There are a million really good reasons I should stop whatever this is between us, send her on her way, rub one out, and go to bed alone.

  I don’t have any delusions of this ending any way other than with Keira eventually finding her swing and us going our separate ways. Maybe we’ll run into one another again or maybe I’ll be at a pro tournament and get to watch her dominate, like I know she will, but we aren’t skipping into the sunset holding hands after tonight.

  I know this. She does too. Yet, here we are anyway.

  “I love your hair.” She tugs gently. “It’s so soft and thick.” Her voice is quiet and husky, straight-up phone-sex-operator style; though, I know it isn’t intentional.

  Weeks of foreplay, of staring at one another through a screen but not being able to reach out and feel the person on the other side, makes everything more intense than it would have been had tonight been a real first date.

  I groan a reply, and her hands still. When I open my eyes, she’s staring at me, tongue between her teeth in concentration.

  “What?” I ask, suddenly a little self-conscious as her beautiful brown eyes dance slowly over my features.

  Instead of answering, she brings her mouth down and presses her lips softly against mine. It’s torture as I let her run the pace. Her nails sweep over the stubble along my jaw as she kisses me.

  I hold out on taking control for as long as I can, but when she moves closer so that her sweet heat presses against my dick, I grip her hips and draw her hard against me.

  We’re a tangle of tongues and a clash of teeth as we press together as tightly as our clothing will allow. Her tits crush against my chest so that I can feel the rise and fall from her labored breathing. I bring my hands around her back and fist a handful of hair so that her face tilts up and I can reach her neck.

  She tastes sweet, the slightest tinge of salt from a day golfing in the sun. A low moan escapes from her as I nip at the sensitive flesh.

  “Lincoln.” She says my name in a way that no one has in so long. As if she enjoys being with me. As if she wants me. As if right now is enough.

  When I don’t answer her, she pulls back until I look at her.

  I lean forward and kiss her collarbone and then retreat so I can see her stunning face again. “Yeah, baby?”

  She bites the corner of her lip and smiles. Her hands fist my shirt on either side, and she raises the material an inch. I love that she’s so excited to see my body because that’s a mutual desire. I sit forward and allow her to peel my shirt off for me. She holds it in her hands as her eyes greedily take in my chest.

  I work out most days and have stayed in shape since I quit the pro tour because it keeps me in a good place mentally, but right now, it feels as if it were for this moment—for that look on her face.

  She traces the lines in my upper body, flattens her palms and glides across my pecs and abs. Finally, after she’s thoroughly explored my bare chest, her hands move down to the top of my belt.

  That side of her lip goes between her teeth again as she seems to contemplate removing my pants. I move to stand, and she squeals and throws her arms around my neck so that she doesn’t fall back.

  I kiss her hard as I walk toward my bedroom. I don’t bother turning on the lights, but she still gives a quick glance around the darkened space as I set her on the bed.

  “A room I haven’t seen before.”

  “I don’t work in here.”

  “No?” she questions and removes her shirt and tosses it.

  Black lace wraps around her, lifting her tits and teasing the shit out of me. I place a knee on the bed, forcing her onto her back. Bracing over her, I drop my mouth to one bra-covered nipple and gently bite.

  “Separation of church and state.”

  She giggles, the sweet sound eliciting a smile from me as well. More clothes come off and are tossed to the floor between smiles and laughter. Getting naked with Keira is fun in a way I never knew it could be. I’m of two minds: wanting to worship and take my time with her and needing her quickly so I can finally take a real breath again.

  It isn’t until I’m grabbing a condom from the nightstand and covering myself, staring down at her gorgeous body, that the air shifts between us. All playfulness fades to hot desire.

  “Are you sure you wanna do this? We can go back to making out or watch a movie, talk golf. I’ll even keep my shirt off.”

  “Don’t you dare try to talk me out of this.” She reaches for me. Her fingers wrap around my throbbing dick and she strokes me slowly, hand gliding down until the girl literally has me by the balls. “I know what this is, and I still want you.”

  Nodding, my pulse races as she brings my dick to her wet entrance. Brown eyes lock on mine as I push inside. Her mouth drops open, and I can see the effort her breathing takes, the flush of her skin and the sheen of sweat from desire.

  As I stare down at her, heart in my throat, I can’t help but think that she might know what this is, but I’m not sure I do anymore.

  24

  Keira

  It’s still dark out when I wake up in Lincoln’s bed alone. I check the time on my phone as I swing my legs over the side and place my feet on the cool, hard wood. I find my panties and new Suns T-shirt Lincoln bought me and pull them on before padding out of the room to find him.

  The apartment is set up with the bedrooms on either side of the
kitchen and living area. Light seeps out from the spare bedroom and a familiar sound draws me toward it.

  Standing in the doorway, I lean against it and watch a shirtless Lincoln swing the golf club. He has quite a setup in here. There is a large floor-to-ceiling net that spans the better part of a wall, and a golf mat that matches the one he sent me.

  A desk is pushed to one corner, his laptop, a shoebox, and some other random things spread across the top of it.

  His muscles flex and turn as he takes another shot. He’s focused and completely oblivious to everything else. I let him hit a half dozen more before I speak.

  “Nice swing, Coach.”

  He hangs in the follow through a second longer before turning to look at me. “Morning.” He leans his club against the wall and grabs his water bottle. “Did I wake you?”

  “No, I slept like the dead.” I walk fully into the room, checking it out. “This is amazing. Is that a simulator?”

  He nods, picks up a remote, and an image of a golf course is projected onto the net with amazingly life-like details.

  “Oh my God, you never need to leave your apartment.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t use it much anymore, but when I was touring, it was nice to be able to get reps in at home.”

  “What was it like touring and getting paid to play golf?” I pick up his club. It’s heavier than mine, grip still warm from his hands.

  “It was hard, time-consuming, and stressful. I gave everything to it, and some days, it gave very little back.”

  As he talks, I take a few practice swings, stretching out my sore muscles. I get in position and then feel his body press up against me. Even after being in his arms all night, the feel of him this close is exhilarating.

  His hands guide me slowly through the swing twice before he says, “But when it gave back, they were some of the happiest times of my life.” He kisses my shoulder and his hands fall to my waist. “You’ll see.”