“Here’s the workout tracking sheet for these stretching exercises.”
Good.
There was a tracking sheet.
Perfect, because I wouldn’t remember how many glute bridges, prone leg curls, front squats, scissor kicks or whatever I needed to do when my mind could only process what was waiting for me at the top of her inner thighs.
“I need to you keep a log for the next two weeks, so we can monitor how your body responds to the routine outside of our sessions when you work out alone. After you’ve gone through each set three times, use this heating pad for fifteen minutes. You’ll move on to use these four massage rollers and bars at the end. I’ll show you how. So stretching exercises, heating pad, then massage. Just remember not to push yourself too hard, and if you start to feel pain above level five, stop and track that as well.”
She did a run-through of each exercise on my legs, then she asked if I had any questions.
“It’s pretty clear cut. I’ll get used to it…whatever it takes.”
“I know you’ll give it your all. Try not to aggravate the area by overextending, especially for the adductor and abductor stretches.”
“I will,” I said absently, not realizing she’d caught me staring down her tank top to her cleavage. I didn’t bother hiding it, or looking away. She also noticed the fact that my dick was pitching a tent inside my gym shorts.
She bit her lip, hurriedly repacking the bands and bars. “One of those bags you got me would come in handy to take these back to your place. I’ll get it from my car and swap these out.”
“Hey. I got those bags for you. I’ll take these home in a crate or whatever. That’s no problem.”
“No, you need your hands free when you’re maneuvering steps. You mentioned you’re moving back to your room upstairs, right?”
“Well yeah, but—”
“It’s okay. Use one of them until you’re off the injured list, then you can gift it back to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared for a few minutes, and slipped back inside with the red bag, filling it up right away.
“Maybe you can come by and demonstrate on me again…if I forget some of these sets?” I asked.
She smiled. “Sure, but don’t make a habit of that.”
“Or I could come to you.”
“I live at the dorms, Evan, and not alone.”
“Okay cool.”
“You’re good to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place?”
I gave her a sly sideways glance. “You mean back at the frat house? I’m game if you are.”
Samantha quickly looked away. “I meant here at the center, Evan. I’ve got to run. See you then.”
She hurried off, probably wondering why I didn’t make another move on her. Maybe she was teaching me about restraint and not the other way around. Either way, I didn’t much mind the wait. Had I known this level of control could be just as erotic, stimulating and intense as some of the bondage and domination I was into, I’d have tried it ages ago.
16
Samantha
I was in agony.
I was about to come unglued.
What was Evan trying to do to me?
I spent all week in a state somewhere between needy frustration and smoldering lust. My stomach was in knots. My heart pounded hard in my ears half the time. I could hardly think straight with this semi-constant arousal between my thighs. Why hadn’t he tried to take another crack at wearing me down during any of our sessions? I was sure he would, with all the flirty glances and provocative comments. But he didn’t. I was convinced that he wanted me, and had come around to the idea that I wanted him too, but not in so many words. I was waiting for him to make another move. He was probably waiting for me to beg. Neither of us budged, but God, I was ready. Three more weeks of this would be like a living hell, complete with slick heat between my legs, constantly losing my cool
Saturday came around. Nervousness crept up inside me from the second I opened my eyes. We had planned to meet this morning at nine. So many of the athletes devoted Friday nights to socializing at keggers or pub crawls that Evan and I would surely end up alone for most of the time.
That’s what I was afraid of. Being along with Evan, inhaling his scent, getting so caught up in his captivating energy until sleeping with him was inevitable. I was becoming completely unhinged, drifting closer to finally begging him to spread me across his bed and seal the deal. Was he getting tired of playing with me? Was I making it too difficult for him? Or was I playing right into his big strong hands?
Kristy must have been up for a while. She walked in wearing a robe, fresh from her shower. “Good morning, hun,” she beamed.
I sat up and stretched. “Good morning. You’re up early.”
“Yes. More tutoring.”
“Right… how’s that going with Mo?”
“It’s a tough case, but I’m committed to the cause.”
“There’s nothing easy about the guys on this football team, is there?” I griped.
“You got that right,” she answered, flipping through the hanging clothes in her closet.
“I’ve got to be at the athletic center for nine. What I wouldn’t give to sleep in all day.”
Kristy half-turned and looked at me with a curious eye. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re usually the one bouncing out of bed around here.”
“Maybe I’m trying too hard—” I caught myself and sputtered. “I mean working too hard.”
“We’re seniors. We’re all working hard, but this is the home stretch. It’s our last semester and we’ll finally be done.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, thinking about my assignment to Evan. He would be the death of me before the semester was over, I was sure of it.
“The only saving grace of working this hard is knowing I’ll be traveling for a year before I settle into a teaching job.”
“I so envy you.”
I really did. Kristy had plans to see France, parts of Northern Algeria and Western Europe starting in May. She had planned this since junior year, and took summer jobs to save enough, just so she could take a pause and immerse herself in French and old world culture.
“If you envy me that much, come along,” she said, tempting me for the umpteenth time.
“I wish…hey, the way this Evan assignment got thrown at me, I may end up jobless…maybe a year in Europe will do me good.”
Kristy did a double take. She hastily came to my side with the outfit she picked out in one hand, and lifted the back of her other hand to feel my forehead for a fever. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because the Samantha I know had roughly…hmmm let me think…yes, she had zero interest in anything but getting a major league gig after graduating.”
“You’re right… I’m not so sure of what my future will bring anymore, to be honest. This assignment has derailed me a bit.”
“You know what you need? A break from your placement, and time away from having your head stuck in schoolwork. Come out with me tonight.” Her eyes lit up, and she clasped her hands together.
I laughed at her enthusiasm. “Where are you going?”
“To a party at the sorority.”
I frowned. “I thought you weren’t into those?”
“I have to make an appearance at one or two at least, or else I could be kicked out,” she explained, getting her clothes on. “Yes, they can really be that petty. Can you imagine? But the name of an honors sorority looks good on a resume, so…”
“I get it… Still, I don’t think I’ll go. Maybe I’ll take myself to a movie or something.”
“Girl, you need to live a little. I don’t usually get on your case about not being more involved in the social side of things , but can’t let yourself graduate without some fun under your belt. Come on. Let off some steam.”
“As tempting as it sounds, you know I’m not in
to the party scene. Please, go, have fun. I’ll only end up ruining your good time or dragging you out of there early. Trust me, I’ll be fine here.”
She frowned and folded her arms. “Okay. Oh, I’ll be going home right after the party…I’ve got an early start to a spa day with my mom, and dinner at the grandparents Sunday evening. I won’t be back until Monday for my first class. Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?”
“I won’t be alone,” I grinned, pointing to the window.
“Ahhh yes, the bodyguard has you covered.”
“Uh-huh. Logan De Luca is on the case.”
“That’s his name? Have you been fraternizing with your protective detail?” she joked.
“Only enough to get his business card. He wanted me to have his cell phone number just in case he isn’t around if Austin makes an appearance.”
“Smart. Okay I’m off now. You be safe. Maybe I’ll see you later on and you’ll have a change of heart about this party tonight.”
“I doubt it,” I said, getting out of bed to start the day. “Take care hun.”
17
Evan
What a workout. What a trainer.
I was beginning to understand why they had assigned Samantha to my recovery and rehab team. Three weeks into the program and I was close to a hundred percent better. She was competent, driven, and able to focus, even when I went overboard with the clowning around and sexual suggestions.
After we wrapped up today, I got a text from Mo, who had my car. He was stuck on the other side of town, which was no problem most of the time, except I needed to get somewhere in a hurry. There wasn’t time to phone anyone at the frat house for a ride, although I would have if I had to.
I checked outside for Samantha. She was just getting to her car.
“Hey, are you in a rush to go anywhere?” I asked.
“What’s up? Need a ride?”
“I was supposed to be somewhere by noon, but Mo has my ride.”
“Where is it?”
“Just a gig I do for some special people. Shit. They’re gonna be pissed.” I wasn’t pretending.
“You’re working? I thought you athletes weren’t allowed?”
“No no. Nothing like that.”
“Get in. I’ll drop you off.”
I went over to the front passenger door. “Great, thanks.”
She jumped in and started the car, buckling up. “Where am I taking you?”
“Sacred Hearts Medical Center. Pediatrics Ward.”
She shot me a look of amazement as she drove off. “You’re kidding, right?”
“About what?”
“The fact that you’re going to that hospital, and that particular ward.”
“Why is that so strange?”
She scrunched up her nose. “Both my parents work there.”
“Really? I know most of the doctors there. What are their names?”
Her mouth formed a hard line and she continued to stare straight ahead at the road. Not even a glance my way. “Dr. Sarah Woodward, and… Dr. Winston Woodward.”
“They’re your parents?” She nodded. “No way…I know them both.”
“Wow.”
“Small world, huh?”
“Really small.” She frowned, and I took an extra moment to study her.
“What’s wrong with the fact that I know them?”
“Maybe you should tell me why you’re visiting and how you know them. It’ll probably make a lot more sense to me.”
“The football team does a two-week patient outreach with the pediatric ward every year.”
She nodded as though it finally made sense. “Okay, I think I remember my mom talking about it. The players read to the kids, right?”
“Yes. That’s the one.”
“It’s not on right now, is it?”
“No, but one of the staff mentioned they needed more regular volunteers, so I started going by twice a month for an hour each time. Normally I visit on Sunday, but as we’re in the off season, I started going in on Saturdays.”
“And you’re the only player who still does it?”
“Yeah. There are a few regular kids…they grew on me, I guess.”
Samantha’s face softened a bit, and her lips formed a smile. “That’s incredibly sweet,” she said. “You continue to amaze me, Evan Marshall.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I smirked.
“There are so many sides of you…I never thought…okay you got me. I didn’t think you had it in you to be kind and compassionate.”
“Somehow that sounds like a dig to me, Samantha.”
“It’s not…not really, anyway. But football jocks have a way of presenting themselves as one-dimensional. Two, tops.”
“Which are?”
“Let’s not go there. If you don’t know by now, it doesn’t much matter… I’m honestly impressed to find out about this, Evan.” She made it to a stop light and turned to look at me, as if seeing me in a different light. A second later, that expression disappeared, replaced by what I’d seen on her face when we were in my bedroom. Excitement and lust, with a dash of terror.
“Try not to let it get around,” I told her.
“Get what around?”
“My doing volunteer work with the kids.”
“See? That’s exactly what I mean.” She shook her head. “It’s like jocks are programmed differently or something…maybe it’s just men.”
“Don’t knock us till you…well, you know. Why is it such a bad thing that I don’t want anyone to know about this hospital gig?”
“Think about it. You have no problem with people talking about your…tastes in the bedroom, or criticizing the way you trash talk pretty much everything under the sun. Yet here’s this selfless thing you do for others, for no other reason than to help, and you’re ashamed of being seen as kind.”
“Yeah well, there’s an easy explanation for that.”
“Which is?”
“No one wants to be the nice guy.”
“Seriously?”
“You know where nice guy finish? Dead last. It’s a Darwin thing.”
She blinked a few times, stifling down a laugh. “I…I really have no words right now.”
“Now that we got that sorted out, could you uh, step on it? I don’t want to disappoint the little ones by showing up late.”
Samantha grinned, and wore a smile a mile wide the rest of the way. The tension broke. Finally. We could talk like two normal people.
18
Samantha
My perception of Evan evolved another increment by the time we stepped inside the hospital. Who was this guy? He was in a chair surrounded by about a dozen pediatric patients of various pre-teen ages who could walk or wheelchair into the small library on the floor. The nursing staff raved about him. Pediatricians and pediatric surgeons loved him. And the kids, they adored him. I was glad I went along to watch, because I’d never have believed it if someone told me Evan Marshall had a single nurturing bone in his body.
I could tell from the look on his face as he greeted the kids that he was not pretending to enjoy being here. He wanted to be around them. The smaller ones were climbing into his lap, and the older children hung around nearby. They couldn’t get enough of him.
“All right, you guys. I see a few new faces around the room. I’m Evan. It’s nice to meet you.” He took a minute to get the name of each new kid before starting. “So…what do you want me to read today?” He leaned over to the small cart with a stack of books, flipping through them. At least six kids took their own books over to him, each of them pleading for their story to be read.
“One at a time,” he told them. The two kids in his lap slid off and sat on the floor with the others.
He took the colorful green book that the youngest child held out to him. “Oh, this is one of my favorites,” he said, holding it up for the others to see. “The Giving Tree. Let’s start with this.”
As Evan read, he glanced up from time to time to
make eye contact with each child, as though they were the only person in the room. Children that age could be fidgety and distracted, but not with him. He held the kids’ full attention right up to the last word. By the time he finished, the ones up front reached up with a few other books. He picked an upbeat Dr. Seuss book next.
After an hour of reading, it was time to go. Most of them hugged him warmly, begging him to come back tomorrow. He promised to be back in a couple of weeks.
My mind was blown.
Again.
I stopped short as we were leaving the floor. My father stepped out of one of the intensive care rooms. I didn’t think I’d see him at all today. In a way, he didn’t see me at all.
“Look at this!” Dad pronounced, running his uninjured hand over his salt and pepper hair as he strode over to us. “Evan Marshall, wide receiver, SEC championship hero, bowl game dominator and NFL hopeful.”
“Hello, Dr. Woodward,” Evan said to him. “Good to see you again, sir.”
“Same here.” Dad showed him the cast on his right hand and smiled proudly. “Sorry I can’t shake your hand today. Blame it on that horrific Lions’ loss.”
“Sorry to hear about your arm. That game was a real shit show, wasn’t it?”
“It sure was, son. It’s a constant reminder of why I prefer the NCAA games a heck of a lot more.” Dad cast a side glance my way just then. Even from the side, his deep emerald eyes glinted with curiosity. “Samantha?”
“Hi Dad.”
I must have looked out of place standing beside an athlete in a sport he worshipped, after I had repeatedly stated that I detested football. “What are you doing here? You know Evan Marshal?”
“I gave him a ride here, Dad. I’m on the rehab team that’s helping him with his injury.”
“You are?” He couldn’t hide his confusion, but eventually he snapped out of it and lifted his clean-shaven jaw up from the floor to kiss the top of my head. “Well, that’s excellent, sweetheart. I’m delighted to hear you’ve had a change of heart about the sport.”
Win Big: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 13