Page 20 of Full Split (Forbidden Goals #8)

JEFF: How did it go?!

ME: Really well. Both of us came out strong.

JEFF: I had no doubts! Especially after I looked you up and saw some videos of your past competitions. You didn’t tell me you’re destined for Olympic gold. *gold medal emoji*

ME: Haha. We’ll see about that.

JEFF: I’m following you on social media now, too. You and Weston are cute together in these videos.

ME: Thanks. He’s my chosen life partner in jackassery.

Wyatt snorts, betraying that he’s been peeking at my phone.

“Creeper much?” I joke, nudging him with my elbow to show I’m really not bothered by it. It’s not like I was sexting with the dude. I can’t decide if it’s concerning that neither Jeff nor I have ventured into dirty text territory. It’s not something I’m usually shy about.

If I’m being honest, I’m mostly still texting with him to annoy Wyatt. I know it’s fucked up. Don’t come at me. There’s also the fact that Jeff seems like a nice guy, I’d feel bad about ghosting him. Again. And maybe… Maybe he’s what I need to focus on instead of tormenting poor Wyatt.

JEFF: What’s the plan for tonight?

ME: I have a date with a foam roller and the hot tub.

JEFF: You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?

ME: Nah, just a bit sore.

JEFF: If I was there, I could help with that…

Oh, here we go. This is where it starts? I could roll with it or laugh him off. All I do for now, though, is turn my phone over to cover the screen, like I don’t know that Wyatt already saw it. I could tell by the way his posture went rigid.

I’m not sure which one of us I’m trying to fool into thinking I’ll keep this up with Jeff. The truth is, I’m just not into him the way I am Wyatt. It wouldn’t be fair for me to string him along as a backup solution.

There’s a knock on our hotel door a little while after Weston and I get back from the gym.

It’s a recovery day, so we didn’t do a hard workout, only enough to stay warm for the second leg of the competition tomorrow.

I’ve just gotten out of the shower, my hair is still damp, and all I’m wearing is a pair of thin cotton sleep shorts.

I glance through the peep hole and open the door.

“We missed you at breakfast this morning,” I say, greeting Wyatt with a smile. I was worried he was avoiding me again.

“Yeah, I slept in,” he replies.

My brow furrows. He never sleeps in. “Feeling alright?”

“That’s what I came to ask you.”

“What?”

“Yesterday.. I, uh… You said you were feeling sore?”

It takes me a minute to register what he’s referring to. My lips turn up on one side, because he’s just admitted he was creeping on my text conversation.

“West said you were icing last night.”

“It’s nothing serious.” I am a little sore, but it’s nothing bad enough to warrant more than some extra stretching. I iced it last night and used a heating pad for a few minutes before our workout this morning, but only out of precaution for the competition.

“I thought I’d check in and see if you needed any help.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You offering to rub me down, Coach?”

The joke falls off my lips before I can think about it too much.

Wyatt rolls his eyes, but there’s a flicker of a smile that has my shoulders relaxing.

Maybe we can recover some normalcy after all.

I was worried I’d ruined everything. Even though I don’t really need his help, I’m grateful he’s here. I step aside to let him in.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Wyatt steps into the room and looks around. He looks awkward, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans and shuffling on his feet like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. If he could stop being so adorable, that’d be great.

“Weston’s in the tub,” I tell him, answering his unspoken question.

He nods. “So… did you pull a muscle, or what? I’ve got some muscle cream I could massage into it.”

“Yeah, about that. I’m good, really. And I don’t think you really want to help me with this anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

I tilt my head, trying not to smirk. “Because of where it is.”

He blinks back at me, but his eyes fall down my torso.

“Mild adductor strain. Nothing serious, though. I promise.”

His eyes lock on my groin, and I clench reflexively. “You been putting heat on it?”

As long as you’re looking at me like that, I won’t need to. Damn.

I nod. “Used the heating pad this morning before the gym.”

“How’s your mobility?”

“Just as flexible as always, Coach. Wanna see?” What the fuck, Niles? Keep it up. I’m sure your stupid mouth is definitely helping the situation.

Wyatt’s eyes flick over to the bathroom door, which is just barely cracked open. I’m pretty sure Weston’s got earbuds in; I can hear him humming and swishing around in the water.

Wyatt’s eyes fall back on me, and he swallows. “Yeah— I should probably, um, take a look.”

Really?

“You sure?”

He hesitates, then nods.

“Alright then, I guess.” Breathe, Niles. Breathe. Jeez, my heart is beating so hard there’s no way he won’t notice if he gets close enough. I need to calm the fuck down.

I sit on the edge of the bed and push myself back a little, willing my dick to behave. I’m so hard and sensitive, even the brush of my shorts is making things worse.

Wyatt clears his throat. “Chair might be better,” he says, voice tight.

Right. He’s right. Nodding, I scoot off the bed and move to the desk chair we’ve been using as a drying rack for our pool towels. I toss the towels and sit down, all the while chastising myself internally. I feel all swimmy like I’ve been drinking or holding my breath too long.

I’m so lost in my internal panic that I flinch when his hands come down on my leg. Chuckling awkwardly, I shift my hips so he can reach my thigh, close my eyes, and try to relax.

His hands are big and warm. The gentle way he starts rubbing up my thigh makes me ache. My legs widen instinctively to let him in, biting the inside of my cheek as he gets closer and closer to the pain.

Heat radiates from my core, and I’m in very real danger of leaving a puddle behind on this seat. He hasn’t even touched me where the strain is, but I’m pretty sure I’ll come if he does, so I don’t say anything.

Every motion sends more heat rushing through me. I’m trying so hard to be good. To not push. To not act like I’m drowning in the way he makes me feel.

He works his thumbs close to the tender muscle just below the crease of my groin. A choked groan leaves my throat, and I immediately try to cover it up with something that sounds more like pain, but it’s not any better.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“Don’t be.” His voice is a low, gentle rumble that I can feel under my skin. “That’s what I came here for, actually.”

He’s close enough that I can smell the faint scent of his body wash and deodorant. It’s a soapy, spicy combination that invades my senses. He doesn’t meet my eyes, but I can see the tension in his jaw.

“I’m the one that should be sorry. I don’t want you to feel guilty for pushing me,” he says. “Because you’re right… There is something here. I keep trying to pretend there’s not, but it’s hard.”

My gaze flicks to his lap, the bulge pressing against the crotch of his jeans. “Looks that way,” I say breathlessly.

He exhales a soft, pained huff of laughter. His hands keep moving, keep massaging. Higher and higher, until the tips of his fingers are brushing through the edge of my public hair. I draw in a shaky breath.

When his hands pause, I can’t help the whimper that escapes me. “Don’t stop,” I whisper.

He swallows hard, eyes darting to the bathroom door and back.

“Wouldn’t hurt to see the PT in the morning,” he says abruptly, forcing us both back down to earth. “And you should use the hot tub tonight. Keep up with light stretching and massage so it doesn’t get stiff.”

“Pretty sure that’s what made it stiff in the first place,” I mutter under my breath. Fuck, I am soaked . We might not even need lube for all the things I want him to do to me. For all the things I want to do to him…

“Christ,” he breathes, pulling his hands back. I grab them in mine before he can move too far. He’s trembling.

I don’t let go immediately, but when I do, I lean back in the chair, drunk on the way he’s watching me. His eyes track my hand as I slip it up to rest over my crotch. Even the slight pressure of my palm is enough to make my eyes flutter.

“Would you…Um, if you want to join me later, maybe we can rub the rest of this out?” His fingers tighten on my knee. “Seems like you might be a little stiff yourself…”

He stares at me for a long moment, nodding slowly like he’s been hypnotized. His mouth opens slightly, and his hand inches forward again, back towards my thigh. My heart rate kicks up again, my breathing heavier. My mouth opens to?—

From the bathroom, an ungodly, thunderous sound rips through the silence. A fart so loud, I’m positive the walls are shaking in the floors below us.

Wyatt jolts back like he’s been electrocuted and falls on his ass. I burst into laughter.

“He’s not invited,” I gasp, wheezing.

Wyatt rests his elbows on his knees and drops his face into his palms. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. I’m pretty sure I hear a “what the fuck” also, but I’m laughing too hard to know for sure. Tears are streaming down my face.

What the fuck, indeed.