Page 75 of Penalty Shot

“Actually, I can’t go to bed until I take a shower,” I state.

“Fine. I’ll wait in the living room till you’re done. Do you need me to get something for you or—”

“Can I take a shower with my splint?”

He lifts my arm up. “I can wrap it with plastic. Where do you keep tape and plastic bags?”

“Under the sink, but I don’t know if I have any tape.”

“It’s fine, I can tie it up. Give me a sec.”

When Randall leaves the bathroom it’s like a swoosh of energy escapes with him. I’m not sure if his earlier confession about developing feelings is what does me in, or the comforting care he’s offering, or maybe a combination of the two that’s propelling me to break my rules.

Keeping our hands off each other has always been a challenge. But something fundamental shifted tonight.

This is no longer about giving in to the urgency of lust.

What I’m offering isn’t surrender; it’s a gift. I want to give Randall something ofmyself. I want to share a part of me I’ve never wanted to share with anyone before.

Maybe that’s the difference between having sex and making love. One is a release, but the other is a gift. A gift for both of us.

When he returns with a stern expression, my heart skips. Randall is always gorgeous to look at, but the way he’s staring, it’s as if I’m all he sees.

“Release the right arm from your shirt,” he says, all business like.

“I have a better idea.” I remove my shirt altogether. My chest rises with each breath, taut nipples straining against the white bra.

“Jesus, Elise.” His expression is agonized. “Let me focus.”

“What’s stopping you?” I say because I’m a brat.

He takes the challenge and looks only at my wrist. Randall gently cradles my arm while wrapping the section from elbow to fingertips in plastic. His restraint is meant to keep me at bay,to force me to relax. It has the opposite effect. Seeing him this caring and capable is only adding to my desperation.

“I usually use my good hand to unclasp my bra. Can you do it for me, please?”

His nostrils flair but he’s less stern when he speaks.

“I see what you’re doing, baby.”

“What am I doing?”

“Making me go back on my word about hooking up. It won’t work, because I’m serious about proving to you that this isn’t a booty call, alright?”

“Yeah?” I take a step forward and rub breasts against his abdominal muscles.

“But—”

“But?”

“I never said anything about not gettingyouoff.” With those words, Randall reaches behind me and unclasps my bra. My nipples pucker without shame, straining for contact.

Randall obliges by grazing his knuckles back and forth over them. Slowly, like he has all night to torture me. Oh dear, how the tables have turned. His rapt attention is like having a drug injected into my veins. It creates a rush of adrenaline before the heady buzz of intoxication.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Elise,” he says while languidly running a finger along the skin just above my jeans. “I’m going to take care of you tonight. Give you a shower so you’re nice and clean, tuck you into bed so you can rest…”

He undoes my jeans and tugs down. I grab his wide shoulders for purchase while freeing one leg at a time. When he speaks again, his mouth is inches from my soaked center.

“And if you’re a good girl…” He runs one finger along my waistband before pressing his thumb in tight circles over the pink bow at the center of my panties. I recall how expertly he can work my clit.