Page 9

Chapter 9

Cyn

I scan the tarmac, my heart racing. Where is he? The team plane looms before me, but I can't focus on anything except finding Garrett.

"Looking for someone?" A voice startles me.

I whip around to see Coach Martinez. Disappointment floods my thoughts. "Oh, hi Coach. Just looking to see who’s here."

He nods, looking unconvinced. "First away game this season. Exciting stuff. Let’s keep these boys injury free, hmm?"

"Yeah, totally." I force a smile.

I can’t help it as my eyes dart past him, searching. The team begins to file onto the plane, but still no sign of Garrett. My stomach churns.

He has to be going, right? Assistant coaches always travel for away games. Don't they? I should totally know the answer to this. But my brain feels too addled right now to think clearly.

I bite my lip, thinking about our dinner two weeks ago for the thousandth time. The way his eyes locked on mine. How his hand brushed mine as we both reached for the ketchup. The man just does it for me.

"Earth to Cynthia." Coach Martinez jokes, waving a hand in front of my face. "Time to board."

"Sorry, yes. Of course."

I hurry up the stairs, nearly tripping. Slow down and take a deep breath, Cyn.

Inside, I pause. Where to sit? Away from the coaches, definitely. But also away from?—

"Hey, Cyn! Over here!"

Barnesy. Great…

I pretend not to hear him, quickly sliding into an empty row near the back. My hands shake slightly as I fumble with my seatbelt.

This is ridiculous. I'm a professional and a grown ass woman. I shouldn't be this worked up over...

A flash of salt-and-pepper hair catches my eye. My breath hitches.

Garrett.

He strides down the aisle, all easy confidence and broad shoulders. Our eyes connect, and he gives me a grin that makes my pulse quicken.

I feel my face redden and smile back but then look away quickly, pretending to look through my bag for my book. When I dare to glance back, he's settled into a seat near the front. Okay, that’s good. Sitting near him the whole flight would just be too much.

Disappointment and relief war in my chest. This is for the best. We can't...It's not...

But God, it's so unfair.

A heavy thud jolts me from my thoughts. Barnesy plops down beside me, grinning.

"Couldn't let you sit alone, Dr. Cyn."

“You know I’m not a doctor, Barnesy,” I say, exasperated.

“Yeah, yeah, but it sounds cool, right? Dr. Cyn,” he says again, obviously very pleased with himself.

I force a smile. "Hilarious. You probably want to sit somewhere else because I’m planning to read most of the flight. I’m behind on my book for next week’s book club." This is a total lie. Not only am I not behind on a book but I’m not even in a book club.

"Come on, it's a long flight. You can’t read the whole time. We can chat."

“Suit yourself.” I pull out my book, hoping he'll decide to sit somewhere else. No such luck.

"So, when are you gonna let me take you out?"

"We've been over this. I don't date players."

He leans closer. "What about ex-players? I hear Coach Hughes is single." He waggles his eyebrows.

I’m horrified to feel my cheeks start to burn. I keep my eyes on the page, not reading a word and just trying to breathe.

I don’t even look at him. “That’s great, Barnesy. But I’m not planning on dating anyone who works for the Blades, and that includes players and coaches.”

"So," he continues, "a little bird told me you got a new puppy."

"Oh?" I glance up, surprised. Who is this little bird and why is he talking to Barnesy about me? My guess is it’s Evan—he’s the only player who knows any of my business and that’s because he lives with Sophie.

"Yeah, a Bernedoodle, right? What's its name?"

"Oscar."

"Cute. You should bring him to practice sometime."

As he chatters incessantly about all the dogs he had growing up, I catch movement in my peripheral vision. Garrett, watching us with a furrowed brow.

Our eyes lock. I stop breathing.

He looks...concerned? Annoyed?

I nod at whatever Barnesy just said and then go back to trying to read my book. Why can’t he figure out that I’m not interested and go bug someone else?

I’m afraid this is going to be a really long fucking flight.

About an hour later, the smell of pasta wafts through the cabin. My stomach growls.

"Dinner time!" Barnesy exclaims, eagerly accepting his tray. He had finally shut up but now he’s got something new to yammer on about.

I eye my anemic salad that the flight attendant just delivered, wishing I'd ordered something more substantial. A salad should really be more than just lettuce, watery tomatoes and cucumbers.

"Want some?" Barnesy holds out a forkful of creamy fettuccine.

I shake my head. "No thanks, I'm good."

"Come on girl, it's delicious. Just a taste." He moves the forkful of pasta closer to my mouth.

I put a hand up to keep him from moving any closer. I mean, what the hell, dude? "Really, I can't. I’m lactose intolerant."

He waves the fork closer toward me. "One bite won't kill you."

"Barnesy, stop it." My patience is wearing thin.

"You're no fun, Doc," he pouts, finally relenting.

I stab at my lettuce, counting the minutes until landing.

The hotel lobby bustles with tired players and staff. I drag my suitcase to the elevator, desperate for sleep after a long flight. Why does flying wear me out so much? I’m literally sitting doing absolutely nothing for hours.

The elevator arrives and I get on with about eight other people. The doors start to close when a large hand shoots out, stopping them.

My heart leaps as Garrett steps in. He settles in right next to me so close I can smell his shampoo—fresh and clean, mingling with the subtle musk of his cologne.

"Hi," I breathe.

"Hey." His voice is low, eyes intense.

We stand in charged silence as the elevator climbs.

I want to say something, anything. But what?

Sorry I've been avoiding you? I can't stop thinking about you? This is killing me?

Of course I don’t say any of these things for a variety of reasons. We’re just friends, we agreed. And there are five Blades players on this elevator as well.

The elevator ding announces the seventh floor. I glance over to say good night to him but notice he’s getting ready to get off the elevator as well. We’re on the same floor.

We exit, walking down the hall together. I start laughing and he laughs with me. I’m not quite sure what we’re laughing at but the late hour and the ridiculousness of our history so far has obviously gotten to me.

“What room are you in?” he asks.

“703.”

“705 for me.”

“That tracks,” I say, trying not to crack up again.

"Well, good night, Cyn," Garrett murmurs as we reach my room.

"Night," I whisper back, fumbling with my key card.

Once inside, I press my back against the solid wooden door, feeling its cool surface grounding me as my heart races like a frantic drumbeat in my chest.

How is this fair? How are we supposed to work together when every glance exchanged between us feels like a searing flame, with an intensity that is impossible to ignore?

I close my eyes, willing the ache in my chest to subside.

I flick on the lights and freeze. There's a door in the wall connecting to the next room. Garrett's room. You must be kidding me. We have connecting rooms.

My hands shake as I unpack, hyper-aware of every sound from next door. The shower running. Drawers opening and closing.

I shower and change into pajamas, brush my teeth, search for a blanket for the bed, anything to distract myself.

Fifteen minutes pass. I'm in bed, staring at the ceiling, when I hear it. A soft knock.

I hold my breath. Did I imagine it?

Ten seconds later, another knock, slightly louder.

My feet touch the carpet with a soft thud before my mind fully registers what I’m doing. I reach for the door handle and slowly pull it open, the subtle creak of the hinges echoing in the quiet room.

Garrett stands there, clutching a tiny bottle of brandy in one hand and a chocolate bar in the other. Just like in Vegas.

"Hi," he says, his voice rough.

"Hi," I whisper back.

We stare at each other, the air thick with tension.

"May I come in?" he asks.

I nod and take a step back, suddenly acutely aware of my short pajama bottoms and the way my t-shirt clings to my skin without the support of a bra.

Garrett enters, setting the brandy and chocolates on the nightstand. He turns to me, his eyes dark with desire.

"Cyn," he breathes, "I can't stop thinking about you."

I swallow hard. "Me neither."

He steps closer, cupping my face in his large hands. "Tell me to leave and I will."

I shake my head. "Don't leave."

His lips crash into mine as his fingers entangle themselves in my hair. Our tongues dance together hungrily as our breathing becomes more rapid. Garrett moves his hands from my hair down to my hips, gripping them firmly before pulling me closer to him.

Our bodies press tightly against each other, feeling every curve and muscle. His arousal is evident as I push into him, wanting to feel every inch of his cock. He slowly begins to grind against me, igniting a fire deep within both of us.

“Friends do this sometimes, right?” he whispers into my ear.

“Absolutely. All the time,” I can’t believe this is happening but I know there’s no way I can stop now.

Garrett's hands find their way under my shirt, teasing my nipples with gentle pinches that make me gasp for air. He pulls away from our kiss only long enough to remove my shirt and toss it aside.

I feel exposed but safe under his gaze as he marvels at my nakedness. He lowers his head, taking a nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it, causing me to moan in pleasure. His other hand trails down to the waistband of my bottoms, pulling them down and letting them fall to the ground.

“You didn’t need those, did you?” he whispers.

I can’t find my voice but shake my head no. I definitely don’t need them. Right now, I only need him.

Naked now, I push him onto the bed and straddle him. Garrett gazes up at me with a mixture of lust and awe. I reach down between us and grip his throbbing erection, guiding him to my entrance. We lock eyes as I slowly lower myself onto him, feeling every inch fill me up.

We both moan in unison at the sensation, our bodies fitting together so perfectly. His hands find my waist, guiding me as we move as one.

Our moans and gasps fill the room. The sound of skin slapping against skin turning me on even more.

With each thrust, our breathing becomes more erratic until, finally, Garrett's hips stutter and I feel the warm flood of his release inside of me just as my own orgasm crashes over me.

I collapse onto Garrett's chest as we both catch our breath. We lay there in each other's embrace—spent but content.

“Sorry about that. I wanted to make sure you came before me, but I couldn’t hold back another second,” he says as his fingers trail along my back giving me goosebumps.

“No worries. I was right behind you,” I murmur.

“Twenty minutes ago I didn’t think I was going to sleep at all tonight, but right now, I can barely keep my eyes open.” He continues rubbing my back and I feel my eyelids getting oh-so heavy.

“I’m so with you, friend,” I say jokingly. “Stay with me tonight?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

The only thought that crosses my mind as I drift off to sleep is how easily I could lose myself in Garrett's arms forever.