by B. B. Hamel
It had happened fast. One second Owen was drinking his drink, and the next that asshole was on the ground. Owen had moved fast, all power and intensity. Nobody had had time to get their phones out until the guy was already on the ground and Owen was dragging me away.
I glanced at the clock and stood up, sighing. I needed to meet Owen in the exercise room for his pre-workout stretch. I quickly headed down the hall and went to the first floor.
He was already there, waiting. He grinned at me as I came in.
“Missed you last night when I got home,” he said. “My bed felt empty.”
“Get used to it,” I said. “On your back.”
“Right here?” He smirked at me. “Someone could walk in.”
“Owen, come on, we don’t have much time.”
He lay down for me and I started in on his right leg.
“I like you better in that dress you wore last night,” he said.
I didn’t answer, just kept stretching and working his knee.
“And the way you danced? I can only imagine how you’d slide along my thick, hard cock.”
“Owen!” I said, surprised.
“That’s exactly what you’ll say.”
“Please.” I could feel myself blushing. “Can we just get through this?”
“Why? I’m having too much fun. Now I have you thinking about what it would be like to ride my cock. You’d twist your hips as you took me just like you did last night.”
I bit my lip but didn’t answer. I switched to his other leg. “I checked the blogs,” I said. “No mention of what happened.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s lucky, is what it is. Owen, you can get us both in serious trouble.”
He laughed. “So what? Maybe I like getting in trouble.”
“Well I don’t. I need this job. You’re important to me.”
“You’re important to me, too.”
“Not in the same way.”
“No? I think it’s the same. We both want each other for the other’s body.”
“Your body is my job.”
“And I want to make your body mine.” He laughed, smirking at me. “You worry too much.”
“You don’t think.” I tweaked his leg slightly, and he clenched his jaw. “You can’t get in fights like that.”
“Okay,” he said. “Damn, girl.”
“Okay.” I finished up his leg and stood. “You’re good.”
He stood up, shaking his head. “I hate to be done already.”
“You have practice.”
“Going to be watching me today?”
“Maybe.”
“Good. Think about what it was like to dance with me last night.” He stepped closer to me, and I felt his lips brush against my ear. “Think about how hard my fucking cock was as we danced.”
“Owen,” I said, but he was already walking away.
“See you later, princess.”
I watched him walk away, frustrated, angry, and so soaking wet.
That man had a magic about him. I didn’t know what the hell it was, but he made me so frustrated but so excited. I hated how forward he was and how cocky, and yet I kept thinking about how we had danced. And I was thinking about his hard cock pressed against my ass.
I had loved it at the time. I’d lost myself in the music as our bodies had moved together. He was surprisingly good at dancing for such a big, strong man. He had worked my body, and I’d shaken my ass against him, thinking about his hard cock the whole time.
I would be lying if I pretended like I hadn’t thought about how it would feel if he took me the way he said he would. I wanted to know what Owen’s body against mine would be like as he worked me, got me sweating and tired.
I stood there, frustrated and excited, until footsteps in the hall pulled me out of it. I quickly headed back to my desk.
I was going to have to go watch Owen practice. It was part of my job after all. If he got injured during play, I was supposed to be there to immediately help out. I knew he was going to make some cocky comment to me, and I was dreading it, but I also was a little excited.
I did love watching him play. The man was incredibly powerful and graceful on the field, I had to admit. He was amazing to watch.
I had to stop thinking about his body against mine. I had to keep it professional.
I hurried back to my desk to scroll through more gossip blogs before I had to be out on the sidelines to watch.
6
Owen
Taylor had nothing to worry about. Over the next few days, none of the pictures or videos that had been taken that night surfaced on any blogs. She kept acting all cool and distant during the day, but that was fine with me.
I caught her looking at me during practice when I was on the field. She didn’t think I noticed, but I couldn’t notice anything else.
I saw her standing there, arms folded. I saw her talking to a colleague, laughing at some joke. I saw her taking a drink of water.
It was distracting as fuck, thinking about that night. The days wore on, and the first game was coming up faster than anyone realized.
She continued working on my knees, but we also graduated to some back stretches. I had to admit, I was feeling pretty damn good, although I wasn’t sure if it was because of her exercises or if I was just excited to get on the field.
Things were moving on the right track. I was going to play backup to Raylon while they prepped me to take over the bulk of the running duties in the years to come. I was working hard at practice, keeping my fucking head down at night, and taking my therapy with Taylor seriously.
But of course, shit changes fast in life.
I’d never forget that day. I came in early for some damn reason, probably couldn’t sleep. But I found Taylor already working hard at her desk.
She looked up, surprised. “Owen,” she said.
“Nice place,” I said, looking around. I’d never been in the offices before.
“It’s okay.” She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed—classic closed-off body language. “What can I do for you?”
“You can do a lot for me.”
She pursed her lips. “Not here.”
I looked around. “Nobody else can hear us. Might as well tell me how much you love stretching me out.”
She sighed. “My boss could hear you. Please, you’ll get me in trouble.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t want to get you in trouble.” I nodded back toward the door. “Mind getting our session done early?”
“Sure.” She stood up. “Get it over with.”
I laughed. “Please. It’s the highlight of your day.”
“You wish.”
We headed down to our usual spot and went through the routine. When I was finished, I headed out to the field to join the other guys for warm-ups.
My mind was on her that morning. Maybe it was because I had come in early and flirted with her right off the bat, or maybe it was because she was always on my mind. But either way, I was distracted as we started the drills.
It was just a normal hitting drill. Nothing special. Raylon and I had gone through it a hundred times already and would go through it a thousand more while we played together.
For some reason, though, things didn’t go right that morning. When we did our normal little burst and then slammed into each other, Raylon let out the kind of yelling scream you never wanted to hear on the football field.
He was instantly down on the ground, clutching his knee. I backed off, stunned, as the training staff piled onto the field. Taylor was there, and she gave me a surprised look as people hustled around Raylon.
“What the fuck happened?”
I looked over at Coach Ricky Kelly. “I don’t know,” I said. “Nothing happened. It was routine.”
“Doesn’t fucking look routine. Looks like you blew his knee out.”
“I didn’t, Coach. It was routine.”
He gave me an angry look for a moment. “I hope you’re ready to
play, kid,” he said after a second, and then he walked away to check on Raylon.
I stood and watched as the training staff helped him off the field. I ran over that moment in my head over and over again, but from what I could tell it was just a normal drill. I hadn’t done anything wrong or differently.
Maybe it was because I was distracted. Maybe I had fucked Raylon’s leg up because I couldn’t stop thinking about Taylor. Or maybe freak shit happened in life all the damn time, and we just got unlucky as hell.
I’d never know, but my entire life changed in one afternoon.
Practice went on like it usually did. During the midday break, I was leaning up against the goalpost, drinking a cup of water, when Taylor came up to me.
“You okay?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Coach thinks I fucked up Raylon’s knee.”
“I heard him.”
“I didn’t do shit.”
“I know,” she said. “I was watching. It was clean.”
I nodded slowly. “Thanks for saying that.”
“You’re going to start now, you know.”
I grinned at her. “Excited?”
“Nervous, actually.”
“What are you nervous about? I’m the one playing.”
“I’m the one trying to make sure you don’t wreck your body.”
“Please. I’m a well-oiled machine.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“I can show you just how well-oiled I am later on after practice.”
She cracked a small smile for the first time in days. “We’ll see.”
The coaches called us back to the huddle, and I nodded to her as I trotted back to the guys.
I liked that smile. I wanted to see more of that smile. But I was about to be the starting running back for the Philadelphia Eagles in my damn rookie year, and now I didn’t have time for distractions, at least no more distractions than I already had in my way-too-complicated life.
Even a distraction as sweet as Taylor.
7
Taylor
My life instantly got a lot harder on the morning Raylon got injured. Owen was instantly promoted up the ranks to the starting running back, which meant that I was instantly promoted to one of the more important members of the training staff.
I had no clue how I ended up here. I was just an apprentice, and I thought I had at least another few years before I worked with a serious starter. But here I was, stretching him out every day before and after practice, plus working on his strength. His body’s health was a reflection of me.
And I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I knew what he wanted, because he was vocal about it every time I saw him. At first it was obnoxious, but I started to look forward to his jokes.
I got to know him. I realized that he was more than just another jock playing in the NFL. He was funny and smart, basically the opposite of what I had thought a professional running back would be.
The first game came faster than I could have guessed. One second we were working together for the first time, basically strangers, and the next he was out on the field in full uniform, taking snaps.
I watched from the sidelines, shocked by how nervous I was for him. Owen seemed completely at ease with the other players and with himself, and I couldn’t tell if he was worried or not.
As the game progressed, I realized that Owen Rack lived to play football. He smashed through the line again and again, gaining yards on almost every single play. He was a monster on the turf, breaking tackles and bruising skulls.
I couldn’t help but remember the man from the club that night, his hard cock against my body as we danced. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought about him beating up that guy for me again and again as we worked together.
The Eagles were winning in the second half by two touchdowns. In the fourth quarter, with only four minutes left on the clock, they called a running play straight up the gut, just like Owen liked it.
He burst through the line, but one of the defensive players fell sideways. The brute rolled into Owen’s legs, throwing him to the ground.
There was a short scrum as the whistle blew. The refs worked to clear the pile, and when everyone was up, Owen remained on the ground, clutching his knee.
I’d never run so fast in my life. I was out on that field in a heartbeat, heading right for Owen, worry surging through my gut.
I knelt down next to him as the other trainers arrived.
“What hurts?” I asked him.
“Left knee,” he grunted. “I’m okay, though.”
“Don’t move.” I looked at Lee, the head trainer, and he nodded as he went through his checklist with Owen.
I stayed right by his side, worry surging through me. I didn’t think about my own career, but about his. The guy was so young, and it was his first game in the pros. If he was seriously injured, this could end his entire career.
But after a minute, he was back on his feet. He took his helmet off and grinned at me. “Scared you?”
“A little,” I said.
“Takes more than that to keep me down.”
“Don’t get hurt, Owen. You can’t afford it.”
“Neither can you.” He grinned at me. “Meet me in the locker room after the game.”
“For what?”
“Stretch this knee out.”
“Got it.”
The other trainers were heading off the field, so I hustled to catch up with them.
The rest of the game went smoothly. Owen’s touches on the ball were kept in check just to give him a chance to heal while the rest of the offense took care of the game. They scored on another passing play and ended up winning by three touchdowns.
Afterward, the team had to cool down and then do their press conferences. I hung around outside the locker room, just another person waiting in the wings, while the guys did their thing. People were milling around all over, and the mood was pretty positive.
Slowly, the place started to clear out. After maybe a half hour of waiting around, I still hadn’t seen Owen. I poked my head into the room.
“Owen?” I called.
“In here.”
I stepped inside. “Where are you?”
“Toward the back.”
I walked down the rows and stopped short at the second to last. Sitting on the bench was Owen, wrapped in a towel and nothing else. He looked up at me and grinned. “Hey, princess.”
“You could have put some clothes on.”
“And deny you this beautiful sight?”
“Meet me in the training room.”
“No. Just wait.” He stood up. “I’ll get dressed and we’ll go through it here.”
“What? Why? Just meet me down there.” I turned to leave.
“Taylor.” I stopped. “My knee fucking hurts, okay? I don’t want to walk down there.”
I frowned at him. “You told Lee you were fine.”
“I lied.”
I sighed. “Okay. Get dressed.”
I moved away and leaned up against a locker.
“I couldn’t tell the truth,” Owen said. “You know that would have been bad.”
“I know.”
“What can you do for me?”
“It depends. I don’t know how bad the injury is.”
“Damn fat bastard. He fell right on me.”
“I saw. Looked pretty awful.”
“You know those guys weight like three hundred?” He emerged from the row wearing shorts and a tight T-shirt. “It’s like having an elephant drop on your leg.”
“Come on. Let’s get you sorted.”
We headed toward the center of the locker room where there was more space and carpet. He got down on his back and I started his stretching routine, though I could tell it was hurting him.
I prodded at the knee gingerly. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” he grunted.
“How bad?”
“Not so bad that I can’t walk, but I feel it.”
I nodded. “That’s probably good. Means nothing is torn or broken.”
“Feels fucking torn.”
“Bad pain isn’t always a bad thing. Just means you need to rest it.”
“I can’t take time off.”
I sighed. “Owen, if you push it, you’ll make it worse.”
“I’m a rookie, Taylor. I can’t hold back.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Keep this between us.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Please. We’ll work on it extra.”
I frowned at him. “I’m not sure that’ll help.”
“Let’s try it. If it gets worse, we’ll tell the other trainers.”
I bit my lip and looked away. I got a flash of him fighting that guy for me. “Okay. Fine,” I said. “One week. If it’s not better by Friday, we’re telling them.”
“Deal.” He held out his hand.
I took it to shake and he pulled me down toward him. I lost my balance and fell on top of him, my face inches away from his.
For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to, wanted his lips against mine. I knew it was stupid, but there I was, on top of the guy in the middle of the locker room, our bodies inches apart.
“Owen?”
We both looked up. Noah Slater, the quarterback for the team, was standing in the doorway.
“What up, Noah?” Owen asked. I straightened up, moving away from him.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Noah asked.
“No,” I said quickly. “We were just getting in some post-game work.”
“Right. Well, the guys are heading out. Coach wants you to do media and then head home.”
“Fine,” Owen said.
Noah nodded and then left.
I stood up. “I should go.”
“We were just getting started.”
“Stay off that knee. Ice it when you get home, and don’t put any pressure on it until you absolutely have to. Okay?”
“Whatever you say, doctor.”
“I’m not a doctor.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’d let you give me physicals all night long.”