Page 73 of Penalty Shot

“Now sit. The hell. Down.”

If his expression is any indication, Randall is just as shocked as I am by what he said.

“Randall, we had…” I struggle to gather the right words. My heart is pounding so loud I can’t hear myself think. We’re staring at each other in amazement. Weakly, I finish my sentence. “…we had rules.”

“You think rules are going to stop me from feeling this way about you?” Randall tilts his head, his gorgeous features intensified by worry.

“Just that—”

He straightens up and steps back. “You said no sleeping over, no commitments, no benefits.” Each condition is accompanied by a raised finger as in one, two, three. “You never said anything about developing feelings.”

“Well, it was implied.”

“Not clear enough, apparently. Sit down, Elise.” He points his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the living room.

My mouth opens but nothing comes out. Instead, I leave him in the kitchen and plop my ass on the sofa. From my vantage point, I watch the stiff muscles of Randall’s neck and upper back bunch while he grabs ice from the freezer. All I hear is the sound of drawers opening and ice clinking.

That stupid coping mechanism takes over, converting my perspective from participant to narrator.

Adelaine—such a great name—awaits on a sofa, sweat trickling between her breasts as her entire body kicks into overdrive. The man—let’s call him Rhett in homage of thatsweet-talking playboy from the blockbuster novel turned movieGone with the Wind—opens a few dressers and the freezer. He prepares an ice pack that he wraps with a towel.

Approaching, Rhett doesn’t sit beside Adelaine like she expects. Instead, he falls to his knees, positioning himself between her thighs. Adelaine’s legs open wide to accommodate his thick frame because her body parts are needy, horny sluts that do not listen to reason.

The coolness of the ice brings Adelaine momentary relief before Rhett’s lingering gaze sends a violent flutter through her chest. The need to squeeze her thighs together makes them tremble. Rhett’s focus shifts from her wrist to her legs.

With a shallow laugh and flared nostrils, he says, “Your legs can barely resist wrapping around me.”

Hypnotized, as if his observation was instruction, Adelaine begins to wrap her legs around him, calves running along the hockey player’s muscular hamstrings. However, instead of pressing his body closer like she expects, Rhett gives Adelaine’s knee a firm squeeze to stall her movement. When her legs drop, the relentless ache in her center throbs harder than her injured wrist.

He makes a tsk, tsk sound before leaning over to whisper in her ear. “That’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to be with you. To take care of you. This is not some kind of long-distance booty call because you are not that for me. At. All. If I have to prove it by keeping my hard cock to myself, then that’s what I’m doing.”

I’m sorry,what? His words pull me out of my mental narration.

This scene is failing to heed proper genre expectations. Excuse me, but at no point should anyone say “keeping my hard cock to myself.”

Is this amateur hour? Zero stars for this script; I need a rewrite.

Randall as Rhett is supposed to act like a sexy nurse. We would get carried away with hot-as-fuck sex. The edge of our unbearable sexual tension will fade into another hookup.

“Um, you want to prove what the what now?” I mumble.

He sits on his heels, increasing our distance.

“Prove that I didn’t drive here for sex, Elise. I get that you’re not willing to discussuswhile you’re busy with the production. But I’ve given us a lot of thought, because you’re basically all I think about.”

“Randall. Randall, please.” I don’t even know what I’m asking for, only that his name signals hazy bewilderment and razor-sharp longing.

“You sound sexy as hell, but that’s not working tonight. We’re keeping this ice pack on for at least fifteen minutes. And then you’re going to bed and sleeping. I’ll stay out here. Now lean back and place your arm at the back of the sofa so it’s—”

“Who was she?”

His head recoils as if I slapped him.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you won game five in Columbus, you brought a woman home with you.”

“No, I didn’t.”