Page 17

Vivienne

Having reliable judgment is usually my strongest ally, but right now, it's not working. Xavier perches on the edge of my desk, thick thighs spread daring me to make a terrible decision.

The cake isn't the most tempting thing he brought into my office.

Stepping between his legs and letting him put those strong hands on me is a surefire way to unravel every ounce of self-control I have left. Ever since the gala, my thoughts have been a traitorous mess, thanks to him in that tuxedo and the girls filling my head with vivid, ridiculous ideas about athletes and their stamina. Now, my body has decided it's horny for this man and this man only, urging me to do far more than accept an innocent shoulder rub.

It's a bad idea. I need to be able to work with him and even if it's not against the rules, it feels like crossing a line. Besides, I don't do relationships. If he's even looking for a relationship it should be with someone more willing to give up pieces of themselves. That's not me.

There are a million reasons to tell him no. But I don't.

Blame it on the exhaustion or the ache in my shoulder that started after I fell asleep holding Holland during movie night last week. Either way, I'm not at my strongest right now.

No matter the reason, it all boils down to one thing: I'm a weak woman desperate for relief. With my neck aching the way it is, I'm not picky about how I get it. Xavier might not be able to give me the orgasm my body is begging for, but maybe if he can loosen up the tension in my shoulders and neck, it'll help ease this constant strain.

I step between his legs, turning so my back is to him, my body framed by his long legs. My focus fixates on how they stretch out beside mine, lean and powerful. They're undeniably close, caging me in. But no matter where I direct my attention, I'm all too aware of how precariously close I am to being in his lap.

God, if I had to face him right now, I'd completely fall apart. I'm too unsteady, too wound up, and he's too near. It's dizzying and thrilling all at once, and my pulse flutters wildly as I stand there, waiting for him to do something. Anything .

The seconds stretch on. My body is hypersensitive. I close my eyes, trying--and failing--to calm my racing heart. He's got to be able to feel it pounding out of control.

I'm seconds away from begging when he shifts closer, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Can I touch you, Vivienne?"

Oh my god. There's a raw edge to his request that makes me think this isn't all in my head. That simple, powerful question goes straight to my core. It should be embarrassing, but I'm too far gone to care.

"Yes." My permission is entangled in a shaky exhale.

His fingers brush my bare shoulder as he moves my hair to one side. It's June, and hot as hell, but I wish I would've worn a blazer or something thicker than the thin sleeveless knit turtleneck. Without that barrier, I'm exposed, feeling nearly naked.

"You'll tell me if anything I do bothers it." It's a gentle demand.

Which is perfect because I'm an absolute tramp for the way he's walking me through this. I want him to do it under very different circumstances. The kind where he gives me what I really need. Him .

I nod. Or, at least, I think I do.

"With your words. I can't see your face and I don't want to hurt you."

Again with the soft commands. He's seconds away from unraveling me without doing a damn thing. It's absurd.

I can't do this. Nope, I'm not strong enough. I'm about to step away when a hand ghosts up my rib cage, sending goosebumps racing down my arms. He holds me in place with the hand that's dangerously close to the bottom of my breast.

If I slouch a little--nope, bad Vi.

His other palm cups the side of my neck, his thumb cautiously sweeping over the muscle there. "Is this where you need me?"

Not even close!

I nod again, and when his hand freezes, I remember my words. "Yeah, it's been bothering me since I fell asleep holding Holland. I can't get rid of the knot."

"Tenley sent me a picture. You both looked very cozy." I can hear the smile in his voice and can't help me to do the same.

"Of course she d-did." He hits a sore spot and my words stutter.

"Sorry." He continues working my shoulder and up to my neck. "Is this okay?"

I drop my head, forcing my shoulders away from my ears as he works his thumb in circles along the edge of my shoulder blade, increasing the pressure.

His thumb rolls over the tight muscle.

"God, yes." He hits another sensitive spot. Now that it's loosened up, the pain is mixed with incredible bliss. My hands fall to the tops of his hard thighs, bracing myself because I think I might collapse. "Your hands are pure magic."

I swear I hear him swallow. "Um, it's kind of what I'm known for."

My mind is sluggish, too hazy from this weird massage induced lust that I'm lost in. But he pops a foggy bubble when he adds, "Because I'm a catcher."

I don't know what to say or do--I'm out of my damn mind. And while I could blame my lack of good sex for my current state, Xavier deserves some of the credit too. We got off to a rocky start, but each new thing I learn about him leaves me pleasantly surprised and hungry to know more.

The hand on my waist slides up my spine, igniting a trail of warmth with every inch it covers. When his palm settles between my shoulder blades, it starts working in sync with his other hand, skillfully kneading the tension from my muscles. Each stroke pulls me further into a haze, and I stop thinking about anything except the way he's touching me.

It's not until there's a knock at the door that I realize I'm in Xavier's lap. At some point, I must have let go, completely, my weight sinking into him. Heat floods my cheeks as I leap up, probably undoing all the progress he made on my shoulders.

When I glance toward the door, and see Dean's standing there, my stomach sinks. He looks way too amused and smug for my liking.

"Didn't mean to startle you. I was stopping in to drop off the check from the auction proceeds at the gala. The team wants a photo op." An oversized check appears from the hallway.

"And they sent you?" Xavier asks.

I say a silent thank you that he's offering a distraction by giving Dean a hard time.

"Oh, okay," I say, my professional mask firmly back in place. "Would you mind taking a picture?" I grab my phone, pushing it into Xavier's hands before he can respond.

We rearrange ourselves so Dean and I are in front of the double play logo painted on my office wall and he holds out the fake check, both of us smiling for the camera.

When we've got what we need, I send the pictures off to Piper, the Bandit's PR director. Looking up from my email I find Dean staring a hole into the side of Xavier's head.

"Are you heading into the stadium?" he asks.

"Yeah. I should probably get going."

Xavier follows his teammate to the door. When Dean disappears into the hall, Xavier turns back to me and says, "Hope that cake lives up to the hype." And then he winks and I hear the faint sound of my vagina calling out for him to come back. She's clearly not done with him.