Dirty Jock

by Sienna Valentine

  “Normally I’d just let you do your thing. We’ve only got another few weeks until everything is finished, so it hardly matters,” he explained.

  “But?”

  “But I’ve come to realize that going straight from being at each other’s throats to making a shaky truce probably didn’t provide enough closure for you.”

  Just for me? I was a bit suspicious. “So wait, you pulled me aside so we could have a heart to heart?”

  A look of disgust passed over Oliver’s face. “Heart to heart? Oh god no.”

  “Then what am I doing here?”

  He grinned. “I want you to punch me in the face.”

  “What?” I shrieked.

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “I’m being dramatic?” I asked, shaking my finger at him. “You just told me to punch you in the face!”

  “Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “For the good of our working relationship.”

  “I’m not going to punch you.”

  Oliver frowned. “I can always order you to, but I think it’ll be more cathartic if you get there of your own free will.” He raised a fist demonstratively. “Remember not to tuck your thumb inside of your fist. You could break it that way.”

  “Oliver!” I said. “I don’t want to punch you.”

  “I find it hard to believe that. You told me yourself you fantasized about hitting me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just because I at one point wanted to punch you, does not mean I want to do it now,” I said. “Do you honestly think me knocking you out is going to suddenly make us best friends?”

  He laughed uproariously. “You knock me out? You’re the size of teddy bear.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Now I kind of want to punch you.”

  “Do it,” he challenged, lips quirked. “You’ll feel better.”

  I was already starting to feel better just from the fact that we’d addressed the weirdness. And, to be honest, the fact that it was vexing him so much that he thought the best way out of it was for me to punch him made my heart flutter around my ribcage like a trapped butterfly. He wasn’t fooling anyone by claiming I was only here for my own benefit.

  “I’m still not going to punch you,” I decided. “It wouldn’t be fair. Not unless you get to hit me, too.”

  Now Oliver took a step back, looking horrified.

  “You weren’t the only one at fault, Oliver,” I reminded. He was the asshole, and he certainly started it. But I did act unprofessionally, which probably just made things worse. “And surely you’ve got some unresolved tension you could ease by duking it out a little.”

  “I’m not going to punch you! That’s sick!” he spat.

  “Because I’m a girl?”

  “Because I’m twice your size,” he corrected. “And I don’t want to have to explain to Rodney and his band of merry men why you’re unconscious when I drive you to the hospital.”

  I glanced over to the bed. “There’s another way we could play this out,” I said thoughtfully.

  Oliver followed my gaze. When I looked back at him, his eyes burned with lust. It surprised me. I hadn’t seen him like that since before the truce. My belly filled with fire, but I thrust the feeling aside.

  Before either of us got carried away, I moved to the head of the bed to clarify my intent. “A pillow fight,” I said. I threw one of the pillows at him. He snatched it out of the air without taking his eyes off me.

  “You want to have a pillow fight?” he asked incredulously. “Are we children?”

  I grabbed for one of the other pillows, walking back toward him. “Need I remind you that your idea was for me to punch you in the face?”

  “Touché.” He looked at the object in his hand. “Even if I did agree to this, how does a pillow fight even work?”

  “You’ve never had a pillow fight?”

  He shook his head. “Are there rules? Maneuvers I should know? What should I—“

  I whacked Oliver hard across the side of the head. The pillows were light, and I could tell we wouldn’t be able to do much damage with them, but damn it felt good.

  “Hey!” he said, patting his hair back into place. “I never said that—“

  I whacked him again, this time in his side.

  I couldn’t help the grin that took over my face—especially when Oliver matched it with his own.

  He darted forward and I leapt back, raising my arm just in time to block his first attack. He pushed forward, swinging his pillow over and over until I was at the wall. I ducked and rolled away from him, coming up to smack him behind the knees. He turned and got a decent hit to my shoulder. I rose onto my feet and we started at it again.

  We danced around the room, filling the air with the sound of thumps, laughter, and the occasional girlish shriek. The shrieks, admittedly, were all from me. But I did manage to draw out a couple of groans from him when I landed some well targeted hits.

  I’d never seen Oliver so carelessly happy. He was focused, sure, but he was also free.

  I was too.

  My arms started to ache but I kept pushing, taking in whatever panting breaths I could between attacks. I managed to nail Oliver in the side of the head again, cackling as he stumbled back a few paces.

  “You’ll pay for that, woman!”

  He came at me even faster, swinging his pillow in an arc that caught me just as I tried to leap out of its path. I went toppling to the floor on my ass. I struggled to get up, but was laughing too hard to make any leeway. Before I had a chance to recover, Oliver straddled me, ripping the pillow from my hand and throwing it across the room. His eyes were bright. Wild.

  “No!” I cried, giggling. “Get off of me!”

  I tried to buck him off, but he was too heavy. He captured my wrists and held them over my head. His body leaned close over me.

  “Give up?” he asked.

  His face hovered mere inches above mine. My eyes flicked down to his lips. “Never!” I said, bucking again.

  He released a low growl that sent heat flooding between my legs. The logical part of my brain fell away, quickly overtaken by the scent and warmth of Oliver’s body. I couldn’t ignore the heat trapped between us or the way my body sizzled at his touch.

  So I did what any normal, red-blooded human would do.

  I arched up and I kissed him.

  Chapter 22

  Oliver

  Holy fucking hell I had forgotten how good her lips tasted. She was sweet and soft and everything that my body ached for. I wanted her then and there, on the floor. I wanted to slide inside of her the way my tongue slid in her mouth, exploring every inch of her perfect body.

  Elizabeth let out a soft moan and I knew she wanted it too.

  But I couldn’t have her. Not like this. Not when she was my employee, and I’d already crossed so many lines with her. I was committed to getting through the rest of the renovations with as little difficulty as possible. Why else would I have offered her a shot at my face?

  I certainly couldn’t have sex with her now. Not when we’d been so close to making things right between us.

  I kept a tight hold of her wrists, afraid of what I would do if she touched me. She didn’t try to pull free, apparently just as lost in the kiss as I was. But I needed to get unlost—and quick.

  We parted and her eyes fluttered open. Neither of us said a word for a moment. We just stared at each other and exchanged breaths. Finally, I let go of her and sat back on my heels.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She chuckled. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who kissed you.”

  “I’m sorry that I had to stop,” I replied.

  Elizabeth came up on her elbows, face reddening. I rolled onto the floor next to her, but didn’t stand up. I couldn’t yet. Not with a cock as hard as my new granite countertops.

  “Well, I’m sorry that I started it,” she said. “I guess I just got carried away in the moment.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I told her. “I t
hink that was just another thing we needed to get out.”

  And god, how I wished we could get a little more out.

  Elizabeth furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I feel a bit better now.” A smile blossomed on her face. “You know what? I feel a lot better.”

  “I do too.”

  And I did, minus the intense sexual frustration. We’d been totally silly and over the top, and somehow it had helped. It was as if the air had finally been cleared of tension that had been building so heavily between us.

  “Except now that we’ve got the beating the shit out of each other thing out of the way,” she said, “we’ve got a whole new thing to be awkward about.”

  I laughed. “Easy solution to that, darling.”

  She raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

  “We just don’t get awkward.”

  “Ah.” Elizabeth sat up and crossed her legs in front of her. “So, what? We just don’t talk about it? Forget it happened?” Again.

  I exhaled through my teeth. “Do you see yourself forgetting about that anytime soon?”

  I knew I was going to be thinking about it often. On purpose.

  “Good point,” she agreed. “So what do we do then?”

  What I wanted to do was pick up right where we left off. I wanted to say “fuck the rules” and spend the next few hours enjoying every inch of Elizabeth’s body. But I didn’t trust myself to have her again. I already found myself thinking about her far more than I should.

  “I think we needed that kiss to help give some closure to our sexual past,” I said.

  She smiled and nodded along. I tried to search for the lie in it, wondering if she felt the same disappointment at the thought of sealing up that part of our relationship. But she seemed to agree with me.

  I wish I agreed with me.

  “I feel like that was some good closure,” Elizabeth said. “But I mean, what now?”

  “Well, we tried being professionals, and that didn’t work,” I said. “And we tried enemies, and that didn’t work.”

  “So… friends?” she asked.

  “Friends,” I agreed.

  Elizabeth smiled. “I’m surprised your kooky plan worked.”

  “It wasn’t kooky,” I defended. “Why do you think people get into fights so much?”

  I stood and offered Elizabeth my hand. She took it, and I tried not to think about how I’d been holding her only moments before as I pulled her to her feet.

  “I guess that’s true,” she shrugged. “But I still don’t think it would have worked if I’d just punched you in the face.”

  I grinned down at her. Her hair was all rumpled, and she had smudges of black under her eyes, either from laughing so hard or from the scuffle.

  “You don’t know that for sure,” I replied. “And you never will. Do you know how many people would kill to be given an opportunity like that?”

  “I think you think very highly of yourself,” she teased. “Most people probably just want to kick you in the balls.”

  “I left that teambuilding option off the table on purpose.”

  Elizabeth tipped her head back in laughter. My eyes dragged along the creamy expanse of her throat. She was so beautiful. So carefree. So bright.

  Had I made a mistake in trying to become more friendly with her? Just because I wanted things to be pleasant between us, didn’t mean that was the best idea. But being angry with her hadn’t helped either.

  “I hope none of the guys overheard us,” Liz said. She made a beeline for the ensuite, clucking in distaste once she caught her reflection. “I look like…Well, you know.”

  Oh, I did know. I’d seen her after sex before.

  Elizabeth emerged from the bathroom looking a little more put together, but she still wore that gigantic grin. The sight filled my heart, which, ironically, also convinced me that being friends with her was never going to work either. But I was too much a glutton for punishment to want to worry about it now. I liked seeing her smile. I liked having her around. I would deal with the rest later.

  “I should get back down there,” she announced. “They’ll be wondering what happened to me.”

  “Off you go, then.” I waved her away, settling back down at my desk with a suppressed smile. “If anybody gives you any lip, just send them up here and I’ll deal with them the same way.” I paused for a moment when she raised an eyebrow at me. “I mean the pillow fight, of course. Not… the way it ended.”

  Elizabeth’s laughter floated out into the hallway. I committed it to memory, knowing there would soon come a day when I’d never get to hear it again.

  Chapter 23

  Elizabeth

  “I’m home!” Arms laden with my design binders, I tried to shake off my shoes by force. Normally I would have taken the time to put the binders down somewhere, but I was so giddy that my mind was working a million miles a minute.

  Cressida must have taken my giddiness for distress. She rounded the corner, eyes wide, trying to assess the damage. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why are you having a seizure in the foyer?”

  “First of all, this isn’t a foyer.” One of my shoes went flying, smacking into the wall. I started work on the other one. “This is the section of the hallway we keep our shoes in.”

  “You can’t be that upset if you’re arguing semantics.”

  “I’m not upset. And, to be fair, you wandered right into my territory with that one,” I defended. “I’m sure you would have the same reaction if I called my diary a blog.”

  “Well yes, because you’d be mixing up your medias and that’s a whole ‘nother bag of fish,” she replied.

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  Cressida rushed forward, grabbing the binders from my arms. “Are you planning on telling me what’s the matter?” She froze. “Wait, I have a slice of cake left over from work.” She darted away, calling back to me from the kitchen, “It was Marco’s birthday.”

  I followed her and came to lean against the fridge. “I don’t need any cake.”

  She’d already put it on a plate and clicked her tongue at me. I took it without further protest.

  “Go sit down,” she shooed me toward the table.

  A moment later she deposited a healthy-sized glass of wine on the table and sat across from me, sipping her own. I stabbed at the cake with my fork. She stared disapprovingly.

  “So, what happened?” she asked. “Did he break the truce?”

  Even Cressida had begun to warm up to the idea of Oliver when I told her how much better he’d been recently. Not just better—good.

  Great.

  “No,” I replied, shoveling a bite of cake into my mouth. I was in chocolate paradise. “I told you; I’m not upset.”

  “Well there’s something off about you.” She took a big mouthful of wine. “Just tell me, Liz. I’m dying of suspense over here.”

  “Oliver and I made out today.”

  “What?” Her eyes flew wide open.

  “Just a little bit!” I said. “And we’re not making a big deal out of it, and it’ll probably never happen again. It was just part of some tension relieving, closure process thing.”

  “Oh, you seem real invested in that,” she said dryly. “And boo on you for lying to me!”

  “It only just happened!” I defended. “It wasn’t like I was keeping it from you.”

  “Not that,” Cress replied. “You told me you weren’t upset multiple times. If you didn’t know you were lying to me, then you were lying to yourself.”

  Holy truth bomb, Batman.

  I went quiet, fork hovering over my plate. Cressida smiled knowingly.

  “Do you want to tell me, or do you want me to guess?” she asked.

  “You don’t need to guess,” I replied. “You’ve already got all the facts. You know I like Oliver, you know we kissed, and you know it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.” I laughed bitterly. “So, of course, it meant something. Big time.”

  “
So, you know what I’m going to tell you, then?” she asked.

  “I think so.”

  I knew what I needed her to tell me. I needed her to tell me to snap out of it. I needed her to reignite my fury, to remind me of all the reasons why Oliver was a horrible contender for my affections. If she did all that, it would certainly help me keep from obsessing over all of my Oliver-related insecurities.