Page 26 of Goalie Secrets

“Did you enjoy the game?” I ask to lessen the acute awareness of our bodies touching.

“You’re a magician out there.”

“It’s not magic, doc. It’s science.”

She chuckles at my repetition of her own words. She deepens the stretch and I close my eyes. I’m as relaxed as I am aroused, if that’s possible.

“Why the hell is everyone still in here!” A shout comes from the door, jerking me out of the stupor. “Coach is waiting in the locker room!”

Not sure if it’s the booming voice or if it’s my movement that does it. Vanya tilts backward and her knees lose traction on the massage table. Without thinking, I reach around her waist and pull her tight so she doesn’t crash on the floor.

In a flash, I’m on my back with my doctor’s sweet breasts pressed against me, her legs tangled with mine, and her pliable body under my grip. My fingers flex against her pliant skin. How is it possible to be this turned on by another person while she still has her clothes on? She shifts and there’s no way for me to hide my arousal. Her eyes widen in shock.

And then I hear it. The stillness of a room that silenced abruptly. Clamoring noises hushed to muffled words.

Arriving at the same conclusion—which is that everyone stopped what they were doing to watch me manhandle my doctor—Vanya wiggles out of my hold and stands on her own.

She’s flushed and unblinking. Clamped fists sit heavily on those pear-shaped hips that felt so good under my palm a second ago. She’s almost too beautiful to look at so it takes me a moment to realize she’s fuming.

“Your coach is calling,” she says with her chin held high. The coldness of her tone might as well be an ice bath.

The team begins filing out. I should follow, but I don’t like how this all played out.

“You almost fell, Vanya. Was I supposed to—”

“Go, Jeremy.” She’s obviously embarrassed that I was groping her in front of everyone.

There’s not much I can do about it right now, is there? She turns away, so I go.

***

After showering, I head straight home instead of grabbing a drink. I usually need to relax with the guys to distract me from the expected aches after a game, but tonight there’s a more pressing discomfort.

It doesn’t sit right that Vanya walked away upset or embarrassed or mad. Did she think I was going to let her crash that pretty head on the concrete floor? The thought of Vanya getting hurt is a sucker punch to the throat.

I speed up and take the corner toward Cassidy Ave too quickly. It’s nearing midnight on a quiet suburban street. The sound of my screeching tires rips through the air. Light filters past the drapes of her living room, serving as a beacon in the night.

After parking my car on my driveway, I don’t give myself time to consider my actions. In a blink, I’ve crossed the street and knocked on her front door. There’s the sound of feet shuffling, but no answer. I knock again with more urgency.

“It’s Jeremy. Open up. This won’t take more than a minute.”

“What won’t take more than a minute?”

“Open up, Vanya, before half the street starts gawking.”

She pulls at the door I’m leaning on. I slip in without being invited because fuck it, she’s already pissed at me, right?

“What the hell, Jeremy? You can’t barge into someone’s house in the middle of the night. Whatever you have to say can wait.”

“No, it can’t wait.”

She glares at me with a raised brow. “Well? Get it over with then.”

Clearing my throat, I launch on the spiel I prepared while driving home. “I’m sorry if grabbing you in front of everyone was awkward—”

“That’s one word for it,” she mumbles.

“What wouldyoucall it?”