She hopped off and I stepped up, unscrewing the alarm from its anchor point. Pulling it down, I showed her the problem. “No fucking batteries.”
“Fucking eejits,” she growled, wrenching the empty alarm from my outstretched hand and then wincing.
Immediately, I hopped down from the stool with the intent of checking the extent of her injuries, but was stopped short by a searing pain that shot up from my Achilles. Sucking a gulp of air in through my teeth, I grimaced and limped to the prep table. Bracing my weight on one hand, I probed my injury with the other, Lauren rushing to my side.
“Are you okay?” she asked, echoing my earlier question. “Is it your ankle?”
“No, my Achilles. I felt something pop when I lunged for the fire extinguisher, but it didn’t hurt too bad until I hopped off the stool.”
“That’s the one you had surgery on?”
“Yeah, almost six months ago. It’s been taking longer to heal than I’d hoped … and now this.”
I didn’t want to say out loud what this new pain had me thinking. When I’d initially gone under the knife, the surgeon had been confident I’d be good as new in less than six months. But when it’d come time to begin physical therapy, things hadn’t felt the way they were supposed to. That’s why I’d been taking it easy these past several weeks, doing the bare minimum to keep my body in shape. But with the injury rearing its ugly head again, I was worried it’d be a long, long time before I’d be wearing my Dublin jersey again. I was the third team hooker—the back up to the back up—but before I’d gotten hurt, I’d seen enough time on the pitch to feel proud of the contribution I’d made to the team’s success. Unfortunately, I hadn’t played even one minute of the current season, and now it looked like I’d be out for the whole damn thing.
“Fuck,” she whispered, staring down at my foot.
“Yeah, fuck,” I agreed, testing to see if I could walk on it.
When it became clear that wasn’t happening any time soon, Lauren braced herself under my arm. “Come on. Let’s get you over to the doc.”
“You don’t have to come with me,” I argued, hopping away on one foot. “You need to take care of this mess.”
“This can wait.” She looked around the room. “Nothing to be done now. Let me help you.”
I stared at her for a few moments, feeling like something had shifted between us this afternoon. I’d come to her rescue with the fire, and now she was coming to mine. I found I didn’t hate the idea of accepting help from Lauren. Somehow, it seemed right. I flung my arm over her shoulder again. “Come on then.”
Chapter 6
D O N A L
After Lauren had gotten me settled in with the team doctor, she’d taken off to deal with the mess in the kitchen. Presently, my foot was immobilized in a walking boot while we waited for the results of the emergency scan they’d performed. To pass the time, I was thumbing through my Twitter feed when I heard the creak of the door. Thinking it was the doctor returning with an update, I looked up to find Lauren hovering uncertainly in the entrance.
“Hey you,” she said, her voice filled with sympathy. “Any word?”
“Not yet,” I answered, glancing at the time on my phone. “Come in and wait with me? Should be another ten minutes or so.”
“You sure?” Her eyes were filled with hesitancy as she glanced back over her shoulder. “Maybe I could go get Eoin or Tadhg instead?”
“I don’t want them,” I said, my voice turning gruff. “I want you.”
She smiled then, a slight tilting of her lips, as she crossed the threshold.
“Close the door.”
She halted. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“That won’t look weird to anyone?” she asked, all the while reaching back to grab the handle. Her mind was telling her to be cautious, but subconsciously her body had already agreed to play with me.
“I don’t care what it looks like,” I answered honestly. I was tired of sneaking around and pretending I wasn’t into her. And besides, right now I just wanted to feel better and I knew she could help. “I’m in a fuck ton of pain, I’m frustrated as shit, and I want you to come here and kiss me until I forget the sorry state of my career.”
She smiled fully then, the apples of her cheeks rising. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” She pulled the door shut and made her way to me. Carefully settling herself between my spread legs so as not to bump my foot, Lauren wrapped her arms around my neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at my nape. “How bad is it really?” she asked, her eyes flicking between mine.
“Bad,” I replied, spanning her waist with my palms. She’d ditched her chef’s jacket and was wearing a tight black t-shirt that plunged into a deep v, showing off the soft swell of her breasts. My eyes lingered there for a moment before I raised them back up. There was no point in hiding the truth from her as she’d know soon enough. “I’m not going to play again this season.”
The truth was, every other season in the future was in question too. The orthopedist had performed the scan as an official way of diagnosing the problem, but I already knew what it would reveal: I’d re-ruptured my Achilles. This time though, I didn’t know if there was any coming back from it. If the most skilled surgeon in the country hadn’t been able to fix me the first time around, why would they try again? Especially since I was pretty low on the team totem pole.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Was there? I mean, aside from kissing me senseless, from letting me lose myself in her.
“I believe you promised to kiss me until I couldn’t remember my name, much less my problems.”
“Ah, that does sound familiar,” she whispered, her face drawing close as her eyes fell shut.
And then her mouth was on me, the soft give and take of our lips sliding together making my heart race and my dick throb.
“Touch me,” I begged against the softness of her kiss.
Lauren’s hand slid from my neck and snaked between our bodies, finding its way to my cock. She rubbed the heel of her palm against my bulge and I canted my hips into her embrace.
“More,” I urged, guiding her slim fingers down the front of my pants.
“Gentle,” she admonished. “My burns.”
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
I’d wanted to lose myself in her and I very nearly had. But in doing so, I’d forgotten all about her problems, her injuries. “I’m sorry,” I said, releasing my hold on her.
Lauren kissed her way down my jaw and into the crook of my neck. “It’s fine. Just a little tender.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know I don’t have to,” she answered, “but I want to. Let me make you feel better, Donal.” She traced her fingers over my bare skin until she found the underside of my cock. When she caressed the exact right spot, my hips bucked forward and I hissed.
“Fuck, do that again,” I commanded, my head dropping back and my eyes scrunching closed. I couldn’t watch her while she jacked me off, couldn’t see the look in her eyes when I came prematurely all over her fingers. Because I was about ten seconds from blowing my load in my pants and I didn’t even fucking care.
Which was why I didn’t see her dropping to her knees until she was tugging my cock free and licking my crown like it was a goddamned lollipop. My eyes sprang open at that first glorious pass of her tongue. “No, Lauren. Don’t. You can’t.”
Looking up at me with eyes that had turned hazy with lust, she swiped the pad of her thumb over my slit. “Please. Let me do this for you.”
Furiously, I shook my head. Gritting my teeth, I pressed my palms to the table and pushed back, scooting out of her reach. I tucked my cock back where it belonged. “No, not here. Not like this.”
Lauren fell back on her haunches, her gaze flinty and color high in her cheeks. “Let me get this straight. You can go to town on my pussy in the middle of my kitchen, but I’m not allowed to suck your cock in your orthopedist's’ office?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
It wasn’t like that at all. If I were a different sort of person, I would have let her suck me off anytime, anywhere. But I wasn’t and I couldn’t and I had to come clean about why. I hadn’t planned on telling her like this. But I couldn’t let her think this was about her. Lauren was perfect and amazing and I loved that she’d wanted to take me in her mouth and make me feel better.
“Come here,” I said, holding my arms open.
Lauren stared at me with barely concealed anger. “Why?”
“Because I want to hold you.”
She scoffed and launched to her feet. Crossing her arms, she said, “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“And because I want to explain.”
“You can explain without touching me.”
I sighed with defeat. This conversation wasn’t going at all how I’d envisioned it. “Okay, you win.”
“Funny, I don’t feel like a winner,” she answered with a roll of her eyes.
“What’s that you’re always telling me—quit being a child?” I raised my eyebrow in silent condemnation of her shitty attitude. She might be ten years older than me, but right now she was the one behaving like an immature brat.
It’s because she’s embarrassed, my subconscious defended.
“I’m leaving,” she said with a huff, turning to grip the door handle.
Before she could swing it open, I blurted out the startling truth I’d only ever revealed to one other person. “I’m a virgin! That’s why.”
Lauren’s hand fell from the handle and she turned, almost in slow motion, to face me, her mouth hanging open in shock. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
I grimaced and gripped the back of my hot neck. “You know what I said.”
“I know what I heard,” she answered, leaning against the door. “But that can’t be right.”
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
She studied me for a few tense seconds. “To let me down easy?”
I laughed, but there was no joy in it. “No. I assure you, I want to fuck you. It’s all I can think about.”
“Then how come …” She looked pointedly at my crotch and I felt my dick practically wilt.
I opened my mouth to answer, when Dr. Crawford rapped on the door with his knuckles and entered, pushing Lauren into the corner.
“You decent in there Donal? Oh, hello,” he said with a touch of surprise once Lauren she popped out from behind the door. Then he looked between the two of us.
Lauren stepped forward and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Lauren Andrews. I’m the team chef. Donal was in my kitchen, helping out with a mishap when he re-injured his Achilles.”
The surprised look in the doctor’s eyes vanished. “Oh, right. The fire. I hope it wasn’t too serious.”
“They’re evaluating it now,” she answered smoothly and then turned toward me. “I’m going to head out.” She gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. “Are you sure you don’t want me to send Eoin or Tadhg down to help you home?”
Doing my best to mask my irritation at not being able to finish our conversation, I said, “No, I don’t need—”
“Actually,” Dr. Crawford interjected, “you’re going to need someone to drive you home. You’re not working a clutch in that condition.”
Fuck. I’d managed to block that from my memory. The first six weeks after my initial injury had been pure hell. I’d had to rely on Eoin, Tadhg, and our other roommate Fergus to cart my ass everywhere. I didn’t want to put Lauren out, but I didn’t want to rely on my friends to take care of me again either. And then there was our whole unfinished conversation, something you didn’t just leave hanging between two people. We needed to finish hash this out so she could understand where I was coming from, why I was the way I was … and why I’d made the decisions that had led us here.
“I know I have no right to ask, but can you give me a ride?” I stared at her beseechingly, willing her with my eyes to say yes, to give me a chance to put things to rights between us.
After I’d counted my heartbeat thumping loudly in my chest ten times she sighed and melted back into the corner. Dropping into an uncomfortable chair, she said, “Yeah, sure. I’ll drive you home.”
“Thank you,” I breathed out, happy to have that initial battle out of the way. “I appreciate it.”
Dr. Crawford swung his gaze between the two of us again. It was clear from the assessing glint in his eyes that he knew he’d interrupted something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Lauren’s vague explanation about me helping put out the fire in her kitchen had appeased his initial curiosity, but her continued presence by my side said there was more to the situation than meets the eye. Not that I was worried about him knowing there was something going on between Lauren and me; I hadn’t been lying when I’d told her Dublin Rugby was one big incestuous dating pool. If memory served, Dr. Crawford was dating one of the pretty young marketing executives who worked in the next building over. Still, he didn’t know what we were to each other—then again, neither did Is—so he stayed quiet until I permitted him to speak freely in front of Lauren.
“It’s okay, doc. What’s the word?”
With one last speculative look at Lauren, he turned back to me. “You’re right. It’s ruptured. I’m going to recommend holding off on surgery though. Let’s see how it responds to a more gentle approach to rehabilitation.”
“You mean, let’s write me off because there’s no way this thing is ever going back to normal and there’s no use going through an expensive surgery again?”
The doctor set his clipboard aside and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not going to lie; it doesn’t look great. I wouldn’t have said the first injury was a career-ender, but it didn’t heal properly and now you’re back where you started.” He cast a furtive glance toward Lauren. “Are you sure you’re okay discussing this with an audience?”
“Yeah, she’s my friend. And besides, it’s not like this is going to stay a secret. My guess is people are already talking.”
He nodded and took a hand out of his pocket to pinch the bridge of his nose. “A ruptured Achilles is nothing to sneeze at Donal. You know that. But athletes come back from them all the time. Unfortunately, in your case, I don’t see that happening. These are two serious tears, one after another. The surgery didn’t take the first time, and I’m doubtful it would work a second. As it stands, you can recover and be fine, but if you keep playing and this happens again, you risk doing serious harm to yourself. I don’t want to speculate, but I’ve seen cases like yours that resulted in permanent damage. I’m talking a pronounced limp for the rest of your life.”
From the corner of the room, I heard Lauren’s soft gasp. She hadn’t been expecting this news, but I had. A similar injury had ended my dad’s soccer career earlier than he’d intended, too. But at least he’d gotten to play well into his 30s. Thanks to a genetic predisposition to this sort of thing, my career was over before it had ever really started.
Here I’d been torturing myself to make sure I never wound up like my old man but our bodies were so eerily similar that we’d been felled by the same fucking thing. Life really was a cruel bitch sometimes.
“All right,” I said with an exaggerated sigh as I slid off the exam table. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
Dr. Crawford reached for the crutches and passed them my way. “You know how to use these.”
With a grim flattening of my lips, I slid my hands around the handles and hefted myself into a standing position. “Yup,” I acknowledged. “I’m a fucking pro.”
I took a step forward and Lauren propelled out of her seat. Hopping in front of me, she opened the door and then moved aside for me to pass through in front of her.
After I’d taken several steps down the hall, Dr. Crawford popped his head out the door. “Do you want me to write you a scrip for some Vicodin?”
I gritted my teeth and nodded, but I didn’t turn back around. “Call the prescripti
on in,” I answered while I waited for Lauren to catch up.
Chapter 7
D O N A L
Lauren walked in silence next to me during the slow, painful trek to my car. Almost 20 minutes later, we reached my BMW and I passed her the keys.
“A word of warning,” she said, taking them in hand, “I haven’t operated a manual since I first learned how to drive.”
“And that was when?”
“Sixteen years ago,” she answered, a challenging note in her voice.
Ah, we were back there again. Just when I thought she’d gotten past our ten-year age gap, here she was bringing it up again. I could guess why, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Cool,” I shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to play into her fears and the issues they could create between us. Lord knew we already had enough to work through following my earlier outburst.
One problem at a time, I told myself as I leaned my crutches against the side of the car, opened the door, and dropped into my seat. Reaching back out to grab ahold of the crutches, Lauren sighed and jogged back around to my side.
“Here, let me get those.” She grabbed for them before I could, and tossed them in the back seat before making her way back to the driver’s seat.
Once she was buckled into her seat, we sat together in awkward silence. I hated it, hated everything about this fucking day. I just wanted to hit replay and start the whole thing over. God, how I’d do so many things differently. Except I couldn’t, so I forced myself to man up and address the elephant in the room. Err, the car.
I swiveled in my seat as much as I could given the boot wrapped around my foot, and cleared my throat. “I’m sorry for not saying something sooner.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, staring straight ahead and refusing to meet my eyes.
“It’s not something I go around advertising, you know?”
A small, cynical chuckle passed her lips. “No, just the opposite.”
SCRUMptious: (Dublin Rugby #3) Page 5