by Nana Malone
She glanced at her watch, and Dax groaned quietly. Seriously, this curfew was cramping his style. He wanted more alone time with her.
"We should head back to the hotel now," she said as she stood and tossed her trash. Dax crumpled the napkins along with his own trash, and returned the marker.
They were back on the sidewalk when his curiosity got the best of him.
"Asha… Are we…okay?" Dumbass. "Jeez, I sound…"
She interrupted, and darted a glance around them. "I thought we weren't talking about it. Or thinking about it." She tugged on her watch.
"You said we weren't thinking about it. I've done a lot of…thinking." Sure, that's what he called that dance with his cock every night.
"Dax, please."
"Okay, fine." he sighed, changing the subject. "Why'd you ask about those plays in there?"
"Why not? I think that understanding as much as I can about something helps me to market it better. Now I know more about what your specific role is on the field," she said evasively.
Dax didn't say anything else, but he did watch her closely as they walked into the lobby. She knew his position inside and out. She was Damon's sister, after all. But just like that talk she didn't want to have, he'd leave it alone for now.
Fourteen
It was a close game—14-13—but the team won against Denver. Another game in which a last-minute field goal made the difference. But this time, the field goal was theirs. It was only their third win of the season, and they still had a long way to go, but the atmosphere around the team was changing. Even coach was happy. And Dax had never seen that dude happy since he'd joined the team.
Not only had the team played their best, Dax had one of his best games—and that meant the press wanted to speak with him. And that meant game talk. Coulter game talk.
Asha was waiting for him outside the pressroom. She was actually vibrating with energy. He couldn't help his automatic smile. He had to cool it, or someone would figure it out that he was just a little obsessed with seeing her smile.
Play it cool.
"Good job today. I mingled with the press a bit to get a feel for the questions they wanted to ask, and to guide them in the direction we want," she said quickly, before giving him a brief list of vetted reporters to call on. "Keep your answers short and to the point. Smile, but try to keep it modest. If you're asked about your family's reaction or opinions…"
"I'll do what I usually do—tell them to ask them themselves," Dax finished.
She frowned. "What? No. That comes off as resentful or dismissive." Asha huffed out a short breath, and then reached out to pick lint off his shirt. "Tell them that while you don't speak for your family as a whole, you are pleased with what you've managed to accomplish today, and you hope there will be more games like this one. Don't try to disregard the reporters' questions, but try to reframe your answers so that the focus is on you and your role with this team. The team is what you're focused on, and when it comes to your performance, they're the ones whose opinion matters to you first. Okay?"
"I think so," he said with a nod.
She reached up and took hold of him by the shoulders, and for a half-second he thought she might rise up on her toes to give him a kiss. His heart pounded, and the blood rushed in his skull. He wanted her to kiss him, wanted the press of her soft, full lips on his. Instead, she looked him square in the eye like she was looking for something, then released him with a quiet, "Good luck."
The wave of disappointment hit hard. "Thanks."
It was certainly easier to be polite and agreeable with the reporters after having such a good game. He resisted the bait a few of them threw his way without entirely losing his charm. He even managed to get some good banter going with one of the reporters. For the first time, he walked out of the room confident about his performance—on and off the field.
Some of the guys had plans to head out after the game to celebrate. Problem was, he knew that if he went, Asha would wind up tagging along, too. Which meant they'd have an audience. And everyone would know he had a problem. But at the same time, it also meant more time with her. And depending on where the guys wanted to go, more time with her was a very appealing prospect.
"Really?" she said with a frown, when he offered the invitation.
"It'll be better than the other night, I promise," Dax told her. Then he winced, when he thought back to the night he'd kissed her…like a moron.
"Oh, after that interview, I think I can trust Phil and Aaron to keep their criticisms to themselves," she said firmly. "I just…I liked it better at the café. I'm better one-on-one. But another dinner out will be fine. Everyone going back to the hotel to change first?"
"Yeah. But I think dinner and a lounge spot. We'll meet up in the lobby and head out together. Seven o'clock?"
"All right. I'll see you then."
Just one problem—how was he going to keep his hands off of her tonight?
Dax was one of the first of his teammates to make it to the lobby. He flopped into a chair to wait, and pulled out his cell phone to finally check the messages from his family.
They pretty much followed their standard scripts from the previous weeks' games, but Dax could detect an uptick in the sincerity. None of them even felt the need to mention the fast-approaching wedding. For once, they were all focused on him in a way that was genuinely complimentary. Except Gage. Of course, that was more of the same. But for some reason, his father hadn't called personally. Instead, Echo had conveyed his congratulations, along with her own message to him.
She had probably caught the game at their parents' house with their father—and Gramps—sitting across the room from her when she’d called. They'd done it before, but never when Dax had played as well as he had that day.
In fact, the longer he thought about it, the more unusual it felt. There were plenty of times when Echo had watched the game with their parents that Dad had still gone out of his way to leave him a message of his own. And something in his sister's tone was…off.
"Hey, man." Samuels plopped into the seat next to Dax, and immediately began complimenting Dax on his numbers for the game, dragging Dax out of his reverie. Dax forced himself to focus. Maybe he'd call home a little later and check on his Dad.
"Caught some of your post-game interview on the TV upstairs, too. Looked pretty good, man. Don't know which you handled better today, the ball or the press."
"Thanks," he muttered.
"So now my question to you is, are you being adequately handled between games? Is that why you've been so on-point lately?" Samuels waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and a chill ran down Dax's spine.
This is what she meant. What she'd been warned about. "Asha? She's not my type. You know how I like my girls. Available. Have you seen Damon Wix? I am not messing with his sister. Besides, she's my babysitter. We all got one." He said it in an effort to brush the accusation off and move on to a new subject. "Yours is sitting right over there," he said with a nod.
Samuels tensed as he glanced over his shoulder to see Aaron Espenson hovering by the elevator, waiting for the rest of their party to reach the ground floor. He was a new hire like Asha, but more nervous about being around the players. Probably because most of them could snap him like a twig. And after the way Dax caught him looking at Asha, he was not a fan.
"Guy's like a mosquito that won't leave ya alone," Samuels assessed with an eye roll and a shake of the head. "Now, your shadow…her, I could get used to. Seems like you have."
"Uh-uh," Dax said, shaking his head. "Wix, remember? I like my head where it is. I'm not going there."
"Well, if you haven't, you should get on it. Fuck Wix. We'd back you. Besides, everyone thinks you are, anyway," Samuels shrugged.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Be cool.
"What? Why would anyone think that?" Dax hoped the quiet, desperate storm inside remained hidden.
"'Cause she's hot, and you're clearly into her," Johnson said from behind the pair of them. He had moved silently
across the lobby to lean over them, with one hand on the back of each of their chairs. "Something about that stick-up-the-ass attitude that makes a dude want to give her some stick. Know what I mean?"
Samuels jumped in his seat before reaching back to give Johnson a smack, muttering, "Son of a bitch," under his breath.
Dax searched for words, but between the surprise of Johnson's undetected appearance and his own struggle to find a way of believably denying his interest in Asha, he was at a loss. It never happened. She's off limits, his internal mantra resurfaced.
"Why else would you take off after her like that at the restaurant the other day?" Samuels asked.
"I did that to keep her from ripping homeboy a new one. Have you ever seen her angry? All big words and chilly tone. It'll give any guy a limp dick." He shrugged. "I'm not going there. Besides, you think I'm gonna take this pretty mug off the market?"
"Guess that's a valid excuse for it," Samuels admitted. "You do like the pussy. Wondered how you were gonna get past the curfew thing."
Dax ground his teeth, but forced a grin. "I manage."
"Doesn't mean you can't be into her, though," Johnson pointed out, straightening up and shooting Dax a mischievous grin.
Dax turned back to look over his shoulder at Johnson, but the opening elevator caught his attention. Asha stepped out in a form-hugging dress like the fuchsia one she'd worn to the club a few weeks ago, but this one was emerald green. She'd done something different with her hair as well, pulling it up into a loose pile on top of her head instead of leaving it loose around her shoulders. Holy fuck.
Dax was vaguely aware of the laughter coming from his two teammates, and knew that he'd never hear the end of their teasing now. He also didn't give a shit. If they thought he had an interest in her, it would keep the rest of them from hitting on her themselves—or making other crude comments at her expense.
But with that thought came an unwanted flood of jealousy. None of these fuckers had better go near her. There was generally a team code, but the way she looked, there was a chance that someone might forget.
He wasn't the only one whose attention had perked up at Asha's entrance. The hovering Aaron swooped in and walked alongside her as she crossed the lobby to meet Dax and the other players. To Dax's silent delight, Asha didn't look too pleased about it and came to stand next to him. Aaron glowered but backed off.
"How many more are we waiting for?" she asked the group at large.
"Just three," Samuels said, eyeing Dax when Asha's attention turned elsewhere.
Dax ignored him. It was going to be a long night. When the coast was clear, she glared at him.
"What's going on?" she muttered under her breath. "Why are the guys acting weird?"
"Don't worry about it."
Later at dinner, he watched her from down the table again, and he noted the way Aaron paid all his attention to her. Okay, he might have been watching a little too closely. Several times, Samuels had to poke him to get his attention.
Like he gave a shit. He wanted to make sure Aaron didn't touch her. Or what, asshole? She's not yours. Fuck. Hey, even if she was technically off-limits, thinking about her wasn't.
When Aaron's hand snuck below the edge of the table and he leaned into her, Dax's fingers curled tightly around the handle of his steak knife. He couldn't see what the shit was actually up to, but he could imagine how close to Asha's bare thigh he was, as the hem of that rich, green dress rode up whenever she sat down.
He remembered how soft her skin was just there, and the way it slid against his thigh as he had rocked against her. He remembered how she'd moaned his name.
Dax looked away and struggled to focus. He had to. Or everyone would easily guess the path of his thoughts. Murder. Absolute murder.
Every now and again, he caught her glancing at him and realized he'd been staring. He forced himself to look away from her for the rest of the meal. Mostly.
Some of the guys wanted to try and find a club after they hit up the lounge, but since they would be on a plane bright and early, the PR contingent was able to successfully encourage an early return to the hotel.
They all piled into the elevator, and Dax just tried to keep his head above water and not stare at her. If he moved, he'd be touching her. And, he'd done really well tonight. Bullshit. Okay, most nights he did well. Sure, his little habit with her and the constant, incessant dreams about how she would taste and how it would feel to slide into her warm, velvet embrace kept him up more nights than he cared to think about. And yeah, okay, the little habit of jerking off to the memory of her soft lips was…a problem.
But he hadn't actually touched her…so that was a win, right?
The guys in the elevator talked amongst themselves until the doors opened, and some women from a bachelorette party climbed in, making the elevator feel like a tin of sardines.
Of course, his teammates couldn't help themselves, shamelessly flirting with the group of women who, naturally, flirted back. Dax tried to keep his eyes on the moving numbers. And in an effort to keep from inhaling Asha's sweet scent, he held his breath. Just another few seconds and he'd be free. Just one more second.
The lights flickered, and everybody froze. Asha's shoulders went still, and Dax watched her stiff body language as she ignored Aaron whispering something in her ear. Dax forced his fists to unfurl. The guy found her attractive. It wasn't like Dax could fault his taste. But every male instinct screamed mine. Which was ridiculous.
So they'd made out…once. He'd done dirtier things than that when he was in junior high school. But it was different with her, and more than the fact that she was forbidden. He'd dated lots of girls who weren't supposed to have a boyfriend, or who had boyfriends and wanted a walk on the wild side. Forbidden wasn't the pull.
It was her. Her taste, her lips. Fuck, he had to breathe. Her goddamn scent.
The lights flickered again, and this time everything went dark. Predictably, everyone reached for something to steady themselves.
Someone in the bachelorette party squealed. Samuels and Ellis offered their bodies as something firm to hold on to. And then he heard Samuels say, "I swear to God, Ellis, that better not be your hand on my ass."
And Asha, well, she'd stumbled right back into him. Her fine ass currently cradled his dick. Oh, fuck. Instinctively, he snapped his hands to her waist to steady her, and she rewarded him with a little wiggle. Shit. Shit. Fucking hell. Shit. Not good. Not okay. Not—
He needed to let go of her. He should—except, he didn't. Instead, his hand smoothed over her waist to the flat expanse of her belly, and tucked her even closer. The loud chatter in the elevator was enough to mask her soft sigh. But he could feel it.
Next to her, the pencil pusher asked, "Ash, are you okay?"
Dax widened his hand and kept pressing her into him. The little rocking motions of her hips were going to fucking cripple him.
With a shaky voice, she replied. "Uh…y-yes."
"Do you need to hold on to me?" Aaron asked. Dax was really going to kill the little shit. Asha was his.
"N-no. I'm, uh, on solid ground."
"Are you sure? You sound funny."
Dax leaned down to her ear. In her towering heels, he didn't have far to go. He didn't say anything, just let his warm breath tickle her ear. So she would know who was touching her. Know whose cock lay nestled between the globes of her ass.
This is stupid. Reckless… Damn hot.
"I'm fine, Aaron." Her voice was tight, hoarse. "Just not a fan of not seeing what's happening."
Yeah, that makes two of us, sweetheart. Dax would kill to see the look on her face right now. To watch her pupils dilate. To see how much he was turning her on. She grabbed on to his leg to steady herself, even as he bent his knees slightly to give himself a better— Oh, yeah. So good.
His brain offered him the beautiful mental image of him sliding into her like this, as she maybe held onto the wall. His cock throbbed. But it wasn't until her delicate hand slid between them
to stroke him through his slacks that Dax muttered a low, "Fuck."
Samuels, ever helpful, laughed and said, "What's the matter, Coulter, afraid of the dark?"
She palmed him gently, and his eyes crossed as he tried to force his brain to work. Come on, you shitty piece of gray matter. Stop this train. Except he didn't want to get off…the train, that was. Getting off with Asha, now that was something he was all over right now.
"Fuck you, Samuels."
He knew his breathing was ragged, and if he wasn't careful, someone was going to realize what they were doing to each other. But right about now, he could give a fuck. All he wanted was more of her touch. More of her hands. He wanted her soft skin, her lips, her—
The low buzz of electricity was his only warning. But he knew what it meant.
Gently, he set her away from him and removed her hand from his pulsing erection, then forced himself to lean back against the wall. Three, two, one and…on came the lights.
Ellis and one of the bridesmaids were all over each other, but jumped quickly apart. Yeah, he wasn't the only one who had that idea.
When the elevator chimed again and started to move, he released the breath he'd been holding. Everyone jumped off on Asha's floor. Probably safer to take the stairs for the time being.
Dax wanted to walk Asha back to her room like he had the last time, but with Aaron standing beside her, he was forced to follow his teammates.
"You up for a session in the exercise room?" Samuels asked.
"Yeah," Johnson agreed. "Gonna ride this high as long as it lasts. I'm sure Mills'll be riding us hard at practice the next few days to make sure we don't let it all go to our heads. You comin', Coulter?"
"I think I'm gonna call it a night, actually," he muttered as he pulled his keycard from his pocket. "I've gotta call my folks back."