On the Line

by Lincoln, Liz

  Namely, the beginnings of a hard-on he’d developed during the drive home, courtesy of the fantasy he’d allowed himself to spin in his head about exactly what they could do in the hotel suite next weekend, if only Mads and her friend weren’t going to the convention too. He sure as hell wasn’t going to jerk off in the locker room shower. And after a punishing session with Tyler, then a grueling workout, he needed the release of an orgasm even before he’d let his imagination run wild.

  In his bedroom, he stripped out of his workout clothes and flipped them into the laundry basket. He headed for the bathroom and went immediately for the shower. He opened the glass door and stuck his hand in, twisting knobs to get the setting he wanted.

  All the while, his mind continued the hotel room scenario he’d been imagining. Sure, he’d already pictured himself coming twice. But the beauty of fantasies was he didn’t need recovery time. He could screw like a teenager on Viagra in his imagination.

  A yelp from the other end of the room had him spinning around, his heart jumping to his throat. For a long moment he stood frozen, staring.

  Carrie was sexier than even his generous fantasies had imagined. Only the tops of her breasts swelled out of the water, but he could see her dark pink nipples beneath the surface. Her legs seemed impossibly long, though that was probably a trick of the water. And between them, he could make out the dark red triangle of hair that he’d spent far too much time thinking about. He’d wondered if she was the same shade of fiery red down there as the hair on her head; now he knew she wasn’t. And it also answered the question of whether she waxed or went natural.

  Shit. As he gawked at her, he’d gone from half-mast to full boner. And she was gawking right back, reminding him that he was bare-assed naked.

  “Shit. I’m sorry.” He forced himself to turn away and grab a towel. He wrapped it around his waist, though the way it gaped away from his body did little to hide his arousal.

  He really hoped she was as turned on as he was.

  No, he didn’t. They weren’t supposed to want this. He clearly did, but maybe she found his reaction so offensive that it cured her of any remaining attraction she had for him.

  “No, I shouldn’t…it’s your bathroom.”

  He heard the water sloshing as she moved, and when he allowed himself a peek at her, she had drawn her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Between her legs and the side of the tub, he couldn’t see anything she hadn’t already displayed in his kitchen.

  He was not going to be the asshole who was disappointed by that. He’d invaded her privacy.

  Except he totally was that asshole. He’d really liked looking at her naked.

  “I’ll go.” He started backing toward the door. Except that gave her a prime view of his only slightly deflated cock, so he turned as he slapped off the water in the shower, then headed back to his room.

  He pulled the door shut with a little too much force, slamming it. Shit. This was a disaster.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said through the door. About slamming it, about walking in on her naked, about his stupid cock and his stupid hormones having a mind of their own. “I’ll go get a snack. Take your time. Let me know when you’re done in there.”

  He pulled on a clean pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt, picturing the offensive line all in the shower together. He needed to get rid of his fucking hard-on.

  And later, when he finally got his shower, he was going to have one hell of an orgasm.

  * * *

  —

  Even though she was expecting him to call and check in, Carrie’s pulse spiked when her phone rang promptly at nine. Seth’s name and an image she’d downloaded of him from an awards show, wearing a suit and looking entirely too sexy for words, popped up on her screen. She waited to the count of four, then picked up the phone.

  “Hey.” She tried to sound breezy, like she’d been doing something other than chewing through her lower lip as she waited for his call. After Maddie had gone to her room for the night, Carrie got out her green corset to repair a rip before the convention, but her fingers were too shaky to sew. She’d had this annoying, ever-present case of nerves around Seth since their bathroom encounter two days ago.

  Maybe she should channel her inner Poison Ivy and put on the corset. It was part of her Ivy costume, and when she wore the entire ensemble she became a different person. Someone bold and sexy and fearless. Heavy emphasis on fearless.

  Part of her wished she could be bold and fearless enough to take the risk and sleep with Seth. She wouldn’t be able to date someone else until she got over him, and who knew how long she would continue to work for him. Plus, it would wreck her to see him with someone else, and there was zero chance a guy with as many interested women as he undoubtedly had would wait until he was no longer her boss, just for a casual hookup.

  “This still a good time?” Seth asked. The phone connection made his voice sound gravelly. Sexy and masculine.

  Carrie shuddered. “Yep. Just hanging out.”

  “You and Mads do anything after her meet?”

  “We talked about going to a movie but there’s nothing good playing, so we stopped at the comic book store and picked up a few new ones. Then we grabbed some Thai takeout and were trading and…I’m rambling.” He was going to think she’d never talked to a guy on the phone before. “Anyway, it’s been a low-key night.”

  “Low-key is good.” Amusement lurked around the edges of his voice.

  Great, he was laughing at her.

  “Amy’s a teacher too, right?”

  “Yep, an art teacher. Maddie knows her. She’s come over a few times. She runs the comics club at her school, so I thought she and Maddie would get along. I’ve known her since middle school. We bonded over comics, like Maddie and her new friend Emilia.” Oh look, she was rambling again.

  “Speaking of comics, Mads mentioned I’m supposed to talk to you about this convention we’re going to.”

  He’d registered Maddie, Emilia, and himself for the comics convention and gotten a suite for the four of them. Which Carrie was both elated and horrified by. With him at the convention and her in full Ivy gear, she would be a goner. She’d toss away her job as quickly as she’d toss away her clothes.

  Thankfully, they’d be sharing their room with two tweens. They couldn’t hook up with Maddie and Emilia right there. It would be a continuation of the usual torture of having him around, made worse by her being in costume. And by knowing exactly how delicious he looked naked.

  “C3PCon? What are we supposed to talk about?”

  “C3PCon?” Now the amusement didn’t just lurk around the edges. It coated every word in bright neon humor. “That’s quite the acronym. What’s it stand for?”

  “Chicago Comics and CosPlay Convention. I assume you get the C-3PO reference.”

  “Yes, even I’ve seen Star Wars.”

  Their conversation was going better than she’d expected. Maybe they could forget the bathtub incident more easily than she’d thought. Hell, maybe it would end up being the thing that broke the tension between them so they could move forward with a regular employee-employer relationship.

  “Is it anything other than comic book fans hanging out and wearing costumes?”

  Carrie fought her natural urge to get defensive when someone mocked her love of comics. He was a concerned father and wanted to know the full scoop before taking his daughter there. And to be fair, his voice hadn’t held even a hint of mockery.

  “That’s a lot of it. Some of the comics vendors will be there, along with writers and artists. There won’t be actors from the major superhero movies, like Wonder Woman or Batman or the Marvel stuff. But smaller shows with cult fandoms will send people. They do autographs and panels.”

  “Mads said you dress up, and that you do workshops?”

  “Um, yes. I’m d
oing two panels.” She smoothed her hand down the front of her T-shirt, trying to calm her anxious stomach. She used to spend her days talking in front of people, albeit kids, and never got nervous giving a talk at a convention. But the idea of Seth being in her audience unsettled her.

  “On what?”

  How did he manage to make two small words, one short sentence, sound like he was asking her the color of her panties? There was no reason that question should sound sexy. But in his deep voice, right in her ear, it flustered her enough she had to clear her throat before she could answer.

  So much for moving past the sexual tension between them.

  “How we can use comic books to engage kids who are reluctant readers. And using comics as teaching tools for subjects like science and politics.”

  She waited for his response, but none came. Great—now he probably thought she was an even bigger nerd. Attendance at her panels was always low because people didn’t want to think about academic ideas like hers. They wanted the celebrity panels, or the talks on how to break into the comic book business. But someone valued her ideas, since she kept getting asked back.

  “I know nothing about teaching and very little about comics, but those sound like fantastic topics.”

  “Really?”

  “Mads bitches and moans about the dull books she has to read for English class, but I can’t pry comic books out of her hands. She’s supposed to have lights out at ten, but many nights they’re still on at eleven, and if I go in to check, it’s always because she’s reading one. It’s a good thing I make a disgusting amount of money, because if I had a regular job, we’d be broke from her habit.”

  Carrie laughed. “I was the same. Got a job at Dairy Queen when I was fourteen so I didn’t have to count on the library to have the one I wanted. And Amy and I shared all of ours.”

  “Guess I have to get a costume for this thing, then. I probably can’t get away with smuggling out a uniform and going as a Dragons linebacker.”

  “That doesn’t really say comic books. Maybe save the smuggling for Halloween,” she teased. “You could get a Thor costume.” With his long blond hair and beard, all he needed was a red cape and a big hammer.

  Big hammer. Or a big something else to hammer her—

  “Iron Man, I think.”

  “Huh?” Her cheeks flamed. She fought the images in her head of Seth in nothing but a cape, doing some hammering.

  “When I was in Houston, a local reporter started calling me the ‘Iron Man of the Gridiron.’ It caught on. There were T-shirts. It was a thing.” He sounded mildly embarrassed. “I’m sure I can find an Iron Man costume.”

  He didn’t look anything like Tony Stark, in the comics or the movies, but she could understand where the nickname came from. “Iron Man works.”

  There was a long pause, during which more hammering images flipped through her mind. In that fantasy she wore her corset and nothing else. Her green corset and his red cape. Together they were Christmas. A sexy, wild, naughty Christmas she needed to stop imagining before she did something dumb, like describe the scene out loud.

  She should get off the phone. He probably had to prep for his game, and she needed to do anything but fantasize about him.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. “Who do you dress up as?”

  Once again, he made the question sound sexy. Her breasts felt heavy and too full for her bra. “Poison Ivy. She’s one of the Batman villains.”

  “I remember the movie. She was hot.” If his voice had been sexy before, now it was like a pinch to her nipples. The words tingled down her spine.

  How did he do that?

  “Tell me what your costume looks like.”

  Another tingle ran through Carrie at the subtle command. Would he be like that in bed, dominating her, taking control?

  Her stupid brain had to stop.

  “She’s a redhead, so I don’t have to wear a wig, which is nice. They get hot and itchy.” Her skin felt hot and itchy, her soft pajamas too rough for her sensitive skin.

  “Your red hair is gorgeous. A wig would be a shame.” There was a catch in his voice. “What else?”

  “It’s pretty much all green. Sheer green tights. Green satin elbow gloves. Knee-high leather boots. You would not believe how hard it is to find decent green boots. Most are cheap and vinyl or way out of my price range.” It had taken two years and three cheap, ruined pairs before she found the ones she had now, a soft suede pair she loved. “Green shorts, satin with a subtle leaf pattern. And a matching—” Her voice caught in her throat. He’d see her in a week, but admitting out loud that she walked around in a corset seemed impossible.

  “A matching what?” His voice was so low and thick; it was basically sex.

  “A matching corset.” Without thinking about it, she reached into the neck of her tank top and pulled it and her bra cups down, freeing her breasts in the cool air. The release of her swollen nipples sent sharp pleasure through her. She dropped her head back to the wall behind her and swallowed a moan.

  “Jesus,” Seth hissed. “Darlin’, if you’re half as sexy as I’m imagining, I’m gonna have a hell of a time keeping my hands to myself.”

  She was going to have a hard time making him. She clearly had no self-control with him, as evidenced by how her fingers had found one nipple and were pinching it. The resulting jolt of arousal had her pressing her thighs together.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know we…”

  Not wanting to think about how they couldn’t be together, Carrie tucked the phone against her shoulder to free her other hand. Working in unison, she cupped both breasts and savored the skin-on-skin contact.

  She needed to end their conversation before they crossed yet another line and had full-on phone sex.

  * * *

  —

  Had Carrie just moaned? Fuck, even if she hadn’t, imagining it had Seth’s balls practically sitting up and begging for attention. He pressed his hand to the hard-on in his shorts and swallowed his own moan at the sweet torture. Her description of her costume and his resulting mental picture had him primed and ready.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know we…” He pictured himself, already naked, ripping off her all-green outfit and tossing her down on the hotel bed. Because he was at that moment in a hotel room, the fantasy became a hybrid of them at the costume convention and having her in his room with him at that moment.

  Shit. He was not going to jerk off with her on the phone. That was beyond tacky, unless she also participated in the phone sex. And he suspected that was a line she wouldn’t cross. But hell, since walking in on her in the bath two days ago, he hadn’t been able to get the mental picture of naked Carrie out of his head.

  Which meant it was time to cut the call short. He loved talking to her, loved her gentle voice in his head, but his erection wasn’t going anywhere. Even thinking about Lemalu wasn’t going to kill this one. That trick hadn’t been working this week.

  “I should get going.” Carrie’s breathless voice had his hips shifting to press against his hand. Jesus, she sounded as turned on as he felt.

  What if she was touch—

  Seth jerked the phone away so she wouldn’t hear the groan he couldn’t hold back. If she was touching herself while on the phone with him, he wanted to know.

  No he didn’t. Maybe it was best it remain a fantasy. That certain knowledge would kill him, knowing he couldn’t have her.

  He brought the phone back to his face. “Yeah, I need to get some sleep.” He would sleep like the dead after the orgasm he had building.

  “Good lu—uh, good luck tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” He only vaguely registered her words. How sad was it that he was rushing to get off the phone with her so he could jerk off while imagining her? “Sleep well.�
��

  New mental picture: her stripping out of a skimpy green lace bra and panty set, then climbing onto a bed with green satin sheets. Instead of pulling the blankets over herself, she immediately slid one hand between her legs, the other pulling at a rosy nipple.

  “You too.”

  He couldn’t end the call fast enough.

  As soon as he was certain the call was disconnected, Seth jerked down his shorts. Kicking them away, he wrapped his fist around his cock and gave a hard pull.

  Yes. Perfect.

  Sweet bliss burned through him, spreading as his other hand took a turn. He quickly set up a hand-over-hand rhythm, tightening as he reached the head and swiping his thumb across the taut surface. He was already dripping; he had a minute left, tops.

  Behind his closed lids, he imagined Carrie there with him. She wore the green bra and panties set he’d pictured earlier, bending over him, her long hair brushing his thighs and belly as her tongue, not his finger, circled his tip.

  “Fuck,” he moaned. “So good.”

  In his head, she moaned back as her hot, wet lips closed over him. His hands became the suction of her mouth, just the right amount of pressure to drive him mad.

  Jesus fucking hell, he was going to burst something when he came. The need gathering in his balls was as sharp and intense as any he’d ever felt.

  “Carrie.” Grunting her name, he gave a final stroke as the orgasm exploded through him. It rolled and crashed, pleasure so sharp it cut him to pieces and he loved every second of it. Unintelligible sounds poured from his mouth, harsh and guttural, and occasionally her name. Time stopped and he was suspended in his state of ecstasy as the orgasm rolled on and on.

  When it finally receded, he went limp on the bed, spread-eagle over the bedspread. His bare chest was splattered with come, but he’d clean that up later. Somewhere in the middle of that amazing orgasm, his skeleton had dissolved, leaving him unable to move. He probably should tell Coach he couldn’t play tomorrow. A linebacker needed his skeleton.