CHAPTER 8
Chase
I could still feel Emma on my fingers. She’d been so slick, dripping with desire. Now I knew, without a doubt. She wanted me like I wanted her. That insane, consuming inferno I felt all the time, melting down even the strongest of firewalls? She had it burning inside of her, too.
Now that I knew that, there was no turning back. The sounds she’d made in that closet? I kept replaying them in my head as I headed back to my room. I thought about heading over to hers. But I didn’t need to stalk her. I didn’t need to rush her, either. It would happen. I was certain of it.
So I didn’t stop by her room after I got back from the restaurant, but I did send her a text:
Chase: Sorry that happened where it did.
Not sorry it happened.
Can’t wait to see you again.
Will be thinking of you all night.
I didn’t hear back from her, but I didn’t expect to. She’d left in a rush, upset. I was pissed at myself that I’d put her in that situation. After all my self-restraint, I’d impulsively hauled her into a closet in the middle of a crowded restaurant. It wasn’t like me. I was used to always staying in tight control, laser-focused on my goals. My teammates teased me that I even scheduled my hook ups. And they were kind of right about that. I knew when my schedule could tolerate a night with more play and less sleep, and I knew when it couldn’t. I didn’t have trouble with impulse control.
Except tonight. When I’d walked in and seen Emma in that sexy, backless red shirt it was like the wind got knocked out of me. I already found her insanely hot, of course, but I’d never seen her dressed up before. She was a fucking siren. Then seeing her with Chris’s hands all over her, I’d nearly raced across the room like I parted the water swimming, drilling a path through the crowd so I could kick his ass for touching my woman.
Only she wasn’t my woman, and Chris wasn’t doing anything wrong. He could talk to anyone he liked. Even if every time he made her laugh it felt a hell of a lot like a sharp needle sticking directly into my eye. I’d kept my distance, just to be safe. I didn’t need to sock Chris in the jaw a week and a half before the games. He might piss me off, but he did not deserve that. So I stayed away.
Until I couldn’t any longer. Watching her out on the dance floor, the way her body moved, feeling the rhythm so instinctively, her hips swaying, her ass shaking, that was it. There was no way I could stay away from her. And once I had my hands on her, I knew there was no going back. Emma and I belonged together.
But I’d keep that fact to myself. For now. I could get a little intense, I knew that. OK, more than a little.
For now, I’d let her sleep the night alone. Then we only had one day left in San Antonio together, and a whole weekend apart before we all re-convened for one last week of training in Atlanta before flying to Rio. I’d give her all the time and space she needed. But if those hot, quivering, panting pleas she’d made in that supply closet told the truth—and I knew they had—it wouldn’t take long for her to surrender.
§
The next morning, I had to skip my usual appointment with Emma following my morning workout. It was our last day in San Antonio, so our head coach called a team meeting. The schedule for the whole day was all messed up, with a later afternoon workout than usual and then a team dinner. Fuck bonding, I wanted to see Emma.
As soon as I got out from the meeting, I texted her.
Chase: Where are you?
Emma: At the pool.
What? I’d spent the last three and a half hours at the pool and I hadn’t seen her once. The morning she’d snuck in to watch me and sat on the bleachers I’d spotted her instantly. She had a strong magnetic pull. I couldn’t believe she was there and I hadn’t seen her.
But after some fruitless pacing around the swim center, I realized what she meant. She was at the hotel pool, that small, shallow thing where people laid around in lounge chairs. Sometimes kids got into it wearing flotation devices. A recreational pool. What a strange concept.
I strode over there and found her. At 10 a.m. on a Thursday morning she had the pool to herself. Or, I should say, we had it to ourselves. And she was wearing a bikini.
I’d be lying if I said seeing her lying there in next-to-nothing didn’t instantly flood me with all sorts of nasty, dirty thoughts. Those long, shapely legs, her smooth skin and those perfect breasts I’d had in my mouth last night. The woman made me crazy.
Engrossed in reading, she didn’t look up until I sat down on a lounger next to her.
“What are you reading?”
“Oh, nothing.” She closed the cover on her Kindle and set it under her chair.
“Was it a romance?”
“Maybe.” She started laughing. That made me really want to know what she’d been reading.
“Were you at a sex scene?”
“I am not answering that.” But she laughed some more. Excellent. I wanted her to have sex on the brain as much as I did. Only that really wouldn’t be possible, since I’d pretty much maxed out the potential time devoted to the subject.
“Do you have some time in your schedule right now?” She sat up in the lounge chair. Yes, I liked that bikini a lot, simple and revealing and so easy to unfasten. “I could work on you if you’re free. I thought you had another workout now.”
“The schedule’s all screwy today. I have another workout in 45 minutes, so why don’t we just hang out.”
“Sorry, what was that?”
I knew she was giving me shit. I, Chase Carter, King of Swimming, did not just hang out. She was right. But that’s exactly what I wanted to do right now, because I wouldn’t be sitting around twiddling my thumbs. I’d be spending time with Emma in a bikini and I honestly couldn’t imagine anything I’d rather do. Except maybe spend time with her out of the bikini.
“I thought you just suggested we ‘hang out,’ like relax,” she continued with a teasing lilt in her tone. “But I must have misheard you.”
“Are you sassing me, Miss?”
“I would never do that. I’m a professional.” But then, in the middle of our fun, light banter, her face fell. Her features clouded with guilt. “Chase, I need to talk to you about last night.”
“Emma—” I started, wanting to reassure her, chase away whatever bad feelings she was having about what had happened between us. There was nothing bad about it, except where we’d chosen to do it.
“Let me,” she insisted, taking a deep breath. “I just want you to know, you can count on me to be professional with you, Chase. You need a good physical therapist to see you through the games. I can do that. Even though things got weird last night.”
I reached out and took her hand. She stopped, looking at where we touched. “Things did not get weird between us. Things got right.”
“We shouldn’t have—”
“Emma, there’s what should be, and there’s what is.” I looked into her eyes, wanting her to not just listen but understand. But she was wearing sunglasses, so it was hard to gauge her reaction. “Yes, it would be less complicated if we didn’t feel this way. But we do.”
She swallowed and nodded. “It’s complicated, though.”
“But it’s right. I’m so glad I’ve met you. Even though the timing is crazy.”
“And I’m supposed to be a professional.”
Was that a wobble in her voice? No, this wasn’t supposed to be fraught with tension. What was happening between us was good. Wasn’t it?
“You’re all stressed out,” I stated the obvious. “I know, why don’t you let me massage you for a change?”
“What?”
I shifted my chair closer and took her foot in my hand. “Your calf muscle gets sore sometimes, right? From an old injury?”
“Sometimes.” She bit her lip, unsure, looking at where I held her foot.
“You lie back and relax and let me work that out.” I had none of the training she did, but I’d had enough people work on my muscles to pick up a thing or
two. Plus, touching Emma had an intoxicating power, working a spell on me as I massaged and stroked my way up, then down her lower leg. She leaned back in the chair. With those dark sunglasses I couldn’t tell if she was watching, but I could feel her awareness. The energy that passed between us, the erotic charge as I moved my hands over her smooth skin.
She squirmed a bit in her chair, not a lot but enough. She liked how it felt. I looked up, giving her a low smile. “That feel good?”
“Mmmm.” The soft moan from her slightly parted lips, that was all the encouragement I needed. I took her other leg in my hands and started massaging it as well. We had the pool to ourselves. I’d do my best to keep things PG, at least to any passing eyes that happened to catch a glimpse. But as for her personal experience? I wanted that to be as X-rated as possible.
“You don’t have to do this,” she protested. But she didn’t draw her legs away.
“Let me,” I coaxed her, my hands kneading, caressing, stroking. “You spend all your time making other people feel good. Who does that for you?”
She didn’t have an answer. I could answer for her. I was going to make her feel good, so good she would have a hard time remembering her own name. I couldn’t wait to see her engulfed by an orgasm, clutching and quivering, flushed and calling out. Maybe not right there full-on poolside, but I could give her a good preview of coming attractions.
“That’s, wow,” she murmured in appreciation as I stroked. “But I’m not…” She trailed off, losing her speech to a wave of pleasure. I liked the look on her. I planned to see it often. After regaining her train of thought, she protested again, “I’m not the one about to compete in the Olympics.”
“Relax, Emma, this feels good to me, too. And I’m not going to see you for the next three days. I’m going to miss you.”
She paused. “I’m going to miss you too,” she admitted, quietly. “But maybe the time apart will be good?”
“Good?” What was good about not seeing each other? Nothing I could think of.
“It’ll give us a few days to get our heads screwed on straight,” she continued. “This is…you know this isn’t a good idea.”
“Here, let me get your shoulders and back.” I stood and moved over to her chair. We needed more touching and less worrying. She sat up, looking surprised, and I climbed right in behind her, my thighs straddling her on either side. Before she could express any more reservations, I started in on her shoulders, rubbing and kneading where I knew she felt tense. There, now I knew that had to feel good.
“Oh,” she exhaled, tension flowing out of her as I pressed and massaged. She had her hair up in a ponytail, leaving her neck exposed for my fingers to explore and rub, soothing and stroking.
“You’re tense,” I murmured. “You need to relax.” I remembered how close she’d come last night, how worked up I’d gotten her. Pressing in toward the center of her upper back, I drew back her shoulders.
“That feels so good,” she groaned.
Nuzzling down toward her ear, I couldn’t resist giving it a light lick. She shivered at my touch. “It’ll always be intense between us, Emma. That’s how it is. It’s not going to cool off over the weekend.”
She shivered again as I worked my hands down her back, stroking, massaging. Then I drew her against my chest as I cupped her shoulders. Leaning down to kiss her neck, I had a perfect view of her breasts in that small bikini top. Her nipples stood out in two firm peaks of arousal, begging for my touch.
“You have the most incredible breasts,” I whispered in her ear, my hand moving up to stroke her neck. “I can’t wait to suck on them again.”
I could feel the intake of her breath, feel her still against me as she responded to my naughty words. She gripped the arm of the chair, and dropped her other hand to my thigh, spreading her fingers along it. Working my hand down along her side, I caressed her hip, then drew her back against me. Pressing her directly against my erection, full and hard up against her plush, round, perfect ass. She gasped, tilting her head back against my shoulder.
“Do you feel how hard I am?” I growled into her, securing her against me.
“Yes,” she sighed and God helped me, she wiggled her ass against my cock. I closed my eyes, my fingers joining hers as I gripped the arm of the lounger. White, blinding need nearly consumed me. I needed to bury myself in her, deep.
She whispered, shy, sounding awed, “You feel so big.”
That made me even bigger. With the hand on her hip, I pushed her back against me again, rocking her against my hardness. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”
She groaned, as if picturing the same thing. I knew we were in public, sitting out at a hotel pool, but her nipples were nearly driving me insane. Insistent, erect, pushing against the triangles of her bikini top, she looked so erotic. She was desperate for me to touch her, palm her, cup and maybe pinch her tips. I’d love to feel her squirm against me, the little sounds she’d make. I couldn’t undress her, not right there, so I’d just have to see how far I could go.
Pushing against her again, pulling her ass back against me, I slid my other hand along her thigh, rubbing it, stroking, gently grazing my fingers along her skin. I stopped short of touching her pussy like I wanted to, but I came near. Near enough to make her think about how good it would feel.
“I loved feeling how slick you were for me last night,” I murmured, rough and low.
“Mmm.” A whisper of a moan came from her lips and she swallowed. Watching her get turned on stoked my fire even more.
“But there was one problem.” I drifted my hand along her stomach, teasing, up underneath her breast, tormenting her. She wriggled her ass back against my cock, pressing her thighs together like she needed some more pressure, more friction. “I didn’t get to make you come last night.”
In a soft voice she answered, “Yes, you did.”
My hands stilled. What did she say? “How’s that?”
“When I got home,” she continued breathlessly. “I thought about what you did.”
So turned on I couldn’t even move, I asked, “Did you touch yourself?”
“Yes,” she confessed, quiet, just for me.
“Were you thinking about me?”
“Yes.”
I slid my hand up her thigh again, tracing the edge of her bikini bottom, pushing my cock into her ass as I asked, “Did you come hard, baby?”
“Yes,” she panted.
“Are you wet right now?” I asked, looking down at her, still all covered up.
“I’m so wet, Chase.”
And then a group of women emerged from a far door exiting the hotel, their voices and laughter announcing their arrival. Glancing up, I recognized one or two of them as people working with our team. It looked like they were headed for the pool. Fuck.
With a frustrated growl, I removed my hands from Emma. The whimper she made nearly pushed me over the edge. I knew how frustrated she felt. All the cold showers in the world wouldn’t cool this off.
“This is not over,” I warned her. Or assured her, I didn’t know how she’d take it. The storm I was bringing was of frightening proportions, so out-of-control it kept getting unleashed in the wrong places, like a storage closet a few feet away from everyone we knew. Or a hotel pool. Next time I’d have to make sure we were in a goddamned hotel room.
Grabbing a folded white hotel towel from a low table next to us, I stood up and wrapped it around my waist. I made a quick exit out the far side, cursing the whole way under my breath.
Coach drilled us through a killer workout, the last one before we officially started tapering, resting up for the games. And that transitioned right into an endlessly long team dinner. Everyone and their cousin wanted to toast, wish us well, talk about how hard we’d worked and how it was all going to pay off.
We were just heading out for the weekend, people. We’d all reconvene next week in Georgia. Could we save the sentimentality until after we’d actually won some medals? It seemed I was the only one i
n that mood, though. Everyone else let the good feelings flow as I checked the time on my phone.
I called Emma as soon as I got out. She didn’t answer. We were all set to fly out tomorrow morning. She’d said maybe it would be good to get a few days away from me. Damn it.
I headed to my hotel room, telling myself to switch on autopilot. I knew how to do it. Swim, stretch, swim, strength, sleep, punctuated by constant fueling all the time. Emma had me so revved up, so raring to go, but maybe I had to channel all that energy into the water. I sure had the right opportunity, waiting only days away.
I stretched, ate, watched TV, then headed to bed, but I didn’t even make it through the night. I didn’t have nightmares too frequently any more, but some nights when I had an over-active mind it still happened. In my dreams, I was back in the water. Black, sightless, cold in my lungs as I sucked the water down, I re-lived the accident, pulled down into a freezing, lifeless, helpless grave where I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream—
Until I woke myself up, sweaty, tangled in the sheets, heart racing. I knew what had happened right away. It wasn’t the first time I’d had a nightmare about drowning. But it still took a few minutes to get my bearings. Feet on the floor, that helped. Head between my knees, I focused on slowing down my breathing.
Who knew that 12 years after the accident I’d still have night terrors? It didn’t make sense to me, but it happened. Not nearly as often, but it still did. PTSD, some therapist had told me. After a traumatic event, the body and mind sometimes processed it by re-living the experience. When did that fun finally stop for good?
After a few minutes and a large glass of water, I felt better, but wide awake. Sleep wasn’t happening. It was 2 a.m., but I decided to head to the pool. Heading into the water to calm myself after a nightmare about drowning? Yeah, I knew it didn’t make sense. But it worked for me. The water was my home, where I felt most centered and at peace. The water was where I could get myself into a rhythm, slow my mind and get into harmony and sync again.
In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1) Page 8