Page 26 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

WHIMSY

I didn’t want to take Elias up on his offer to send a massage therapist to the room, but my body is certainly thanking him after the hour-long massage and the warm shower I took afterward.

I expected him to be back by now, but he hasn’t returned as I crawl into bed.

Stifling a yawn, I reach for the remote and look for something to put on for background noise while I scroll on my phone.

I wish I wasn’t so addicted to the device, but I love browsing various social media for outfit inspiration and the latest celebrity gossip.

I’m probably thirty minutes into mindless scrolling when the door to the room chirps and opens seconds later. Elias stumbles inside with Noah holding onto him. I toss my phone aside and sit up.

“Elias?”

“Fuck,” he curses, stumbling over his own two feet. If it weren’t for Noah, I’m pretty sure he’d faceplant with the floor.

Noah sends a sheepish look my way. “Sorry. He got a bit carried away.”

“A bit?” I gripe, tossing the covers off and getting out of bed to help.

Elias looks down at me with eyes that can only be describe as puppy dog.

“Don’t look at me like that when you’re drunk,” I sigh, crossing my arms beneath my chest. I realize belatedly that the gesture has my boobs practically spilling out of my top.

Groaning in annoyance, I snatch a sweatshirt—Elias’s since it’s draped over a chair—and tug it on. It practically hangs to my knees.

He grins goofily, eyes raking over me. “You look good in my hoodie, baby.”

Baby.

I know he’s only using the endearment because Noah is right there, but it doesn’t stop my body from reacting. He must notice my slight shiver because his smile gets impossibly bigger.

“Should I help him into bed?” Noah asks me.

“I’m right here and I’m fine,” Elias gripes, tugging unsuccessfully away from Noah.

Noah arches a brow. “Dude.” The one word is laced with concern and amusement.

“Let me go,” Elias whines. “I’ll be okay. Give me some water and Advil and I’ll be a new man.” He gives the two of us a weak thumb’s up.

With a sigh, I say to Noah, “It’s fine. I can handle him.”

“See?” Elias gives Noah’s a chest a pat. “She can handle me. Handle me, Whimsy, please I’m begging you.” He pouts his bottom lip.

I hate to admit it, but Elias is a pretty adorable drunk.

“You sure?” Noah addresses me. “I can stay with him, and you can crash in my room with Sabrina and Maddie.”

His daughter, Maddie, is a blast to have around on the tour. She’s smart as a whip and doesn’t mind humbling the guys when they get egotistical. I once heard her tell Trager he looked like a frog.

“I’m good,” I promise.

“Come on, baby ,” I mimic his endearment. “Lets get you undressed.”

“Fuck, Whim. Yes. Undress me.”

Laughter bubbles out of Noah. He snaps his fingers and points at me. “If you need me, call me. My room’s on this floor, too.”

Elias wraps his arms around me—the best he can that is, with the height difference. “You heard my girl, we’re fine. She’s going to undress me now.”

My lips twitch. I don’t want to laugh out loud and give him the satisfaction, but damn, I’m close.

I can tell Noah’s still skeptical to leave us, but I jerk my head toward the door. “I’ve got this. I’ll call if I need you, but I don’t think I will.”

Noah eyes up Elias before sighing. “Okay. I’m going.”

He slips out the door and it clicks shut behind him.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Elias groans, letting me go so he can sit on the edge of the bed. He tries to yank his shoes off, but struggles.

“Stop that,” I scold, swatting his hand. “You’re going to take your whole foot off doing that.”

I kneel down and untie the laces, carefully pulling the shoe off.

He groans and I look up to find him watching me with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

It’s then that I realize my position. With him sitting and me kneeling I’m practically making eye contact with his cock.

Not that I can see it, only—oh my God, I can see it, because he’s getting hard.

He’s not even fully erect and I can already tell the size of his dick is bigger than I’ve ever seen before.

Elias curses and reaches over and grabs a pillow, settling it on his lap. His expression grows sheepish. “Sorry. I … you’re pretty.”

His words pull a laugh from me. “Thanks. I think.”

“Plus, it’s been a while,” he goes on. “And you’re really pretty.”

“So you already said.” I finish with his other shoe and get up from the floor before I do something stupid and shove the pillow off.

With another groan, the mattress jostles as he lays back, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to drink so much,” he grumbles. “Practice tomorrow is going to be a bitch. Noah’s going to say I told you so and I fucking hate it when he’s right.”

I open the mini fridge and pull out a bottle of water before rifling through my bag for some Advil. With the goods secured, I poke his shoulder and he lifts his arm so he can see me.

“Water. Advil.” He sits up and takes both. When he only takes a few sips of water, I shake my head. “Drink it all. You need to hydrate.”

“Fuck,” he groans, but does as he’s told.

“Good boy,” I tell him.

I mean it as a joke, but the way his eyes darken I don’t think he takes it that way.

“Do you want help out of your clothes?” I ask, my hands fluttering awkwardly at my sides.

He shakes his head. “I think I can handle that even drunk.”

“Okay.” I hesitate. “Do you want to shower or just go to bed?”

He frowns. “Shower.”

“All right, well hop to it, because I’m not going to be able to go to sleep until I know you’re okay and haven’t fallen and died in the shower.”

“Wow.” He arches a brow, lips curling deliciously in amusement. “Morbid, much?”

Hands on my hips, I say, “I watched a story on the news one time and—” I shake my head. “You know what? Never mind. Just get it done.” I hook a thumb in the direction of the bathroom.

He frowns. “But what if I need you to wash my back?”

“Elias,” I groan.

“Kidding.” He gets up slowly from the bed, his hand going to the belt on his jeans. “I can handle it.”

He undoes the belt and drops it to the floor. Shirt next.

He turns to look at me from the doorway, fingers undoing the button and zipper. I stare open-mouthed, not even his knowing smirk phasing me.

Then he closes the door.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

I settle myself back in bed, this time with my kindle in the hopes that reading will distract me. Unfortunately, I left off at a spicy scene, so it’s definitely not helping my current situation.

With a groan, I close the case and set it aside, picking up my phone for more scrolling.

It’s only been about five minutes when I hear a loud, “Fuck,” from the bathroom. I sit up, looking toward the door. He didn’t fall, did he?

“Elias?”

“I’m okay!” he hollers back.

I frown skeptically.

I’m on edge until he finally leaves the bathroom, steam billowing behind him and outlining his ridiculously tall and muscular frame.

I swear the majority of the population is sleeping on how hot tennis players are. He’s lean and toned, but with thick thighs I’d let him?—

“Eyes up here, baby.” He gestures to his face, wearing a proud smirk.

“Ugh,” I groan, turning away from him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Insufferably handsome you mean?” He slides into bed behind me.

I ignore him, unlocking my phone again. He yawns and seesaws his legs back and forth.

“What are you? A cricket?” I tease.

He chuckles. “I have to test the softness of the sheets.”

I look over my shoulder at him, my face illuminated by the screen of my phone. “Every night?”

He shrugs and pulls the covers up to his chin. “Habit.”

“You seem slightly more sober,” I comment.

Another yawn. “The water and shower helped.”

“Good.”

“Night, Whim.”

“Night,” I echo. My eyes are suddenly too heavy to keep open so I set my phone down on the nightstand.

With the warm presence of Elias behind me, I fall asleep quickly.

Light filters in around the cracks in the curtains as I slowly come awake.

Awareness slowly seeps into my brain and I realize that I’m warmer than usual.

A moment later I take in the feel of the arms around me, the press of a male behind me—a male that’s very much hard.

I don’t mean to do it, but my butt wiggles against the stiff length.

“Mm,” he hums sleepily behind me.

I bite down on my lip and stop moving. My breath is frozen in my lungs. I’m scared to even breathe for fear my hips will move on their own again.

He squeezes me tighter and I close my eyes, trying my best to ignore my body’s natural reaction to a man I’m attracted to holding me like I’m his favorite teddy bear.

A second later he presses his head into the crook of my neck, lips grazing the top of my shoulder. A full body shiver goes through me.

“You smell good,” he murmurs sleepily. The hand he has on my stomach slides lower, fingers rubbing idly at the bare skin of my belly above the band of my pajama shorts.

I stay silent. I’m scared if I open my mouth a moan will slip out. Or worse, I’ll ask him to slide those fingers into my shorts.

His fingers stay there, warm and gentle and so close to my core that tightens in anticipation. Elias might’ve said it’s been a while for him, but there’s no way it’s nearly as long as it’s been for me. My last hook up was nearly a year and a half ago. My body is desperate for some male attention.

Elias’s fingers freeze suddenly. His even breaths turn choppy.

“Whimsy?”

I squish my eyes closed. Speak , I will myself. “Yes?” I squeak.

“Fuck,” he curses, his body jolting away from mine.

My body feels downright frigid with his absence.

His feet hit the floor a moment later. “I’m so fucking sorry, Whimsy.”

I sit up and face him. “It’s okay.” I look down at my hands, staring at the pale pink polish. “I…” I don’t want to say I liked it—that’s way too embarrassing to admit. “You were asleep.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and shrug. “It’s no biggie. It was bound to happen eventually.”

His hands rest on his trim hips. His black boxer-briefs are doing little to nothing to disguise his erection.

He doesn’t say anything. Just shakes his head and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself.

I flop back onto the pillows. Covering my face with my hands I take several deep breaths as the shower turns on.

This doesn’t change anything.

It can’t.

We still have to finish out this tour in our fake relationship. We can’t let anything—even if it’s purely physical—complicate things.