Page 35 of The False Start (Off the Bench)

Chapter Twenty-Four

CAL

I ’m staring at my phone as I mindlessly scroll through replays of my game-winning catch earlier, as the documentary on the TV drones on in the background. Somehow it doesn’t feel as sweet as it should.

Another text from Lila comes through, and I swipe it away without opening it.

I read her first apology text, but until she decides what she wants, I can’t talk to her.

The back and forth is too much. She hasn’t tried to call once, hasn’t tried to see me.

I need her to take a chance and come to me the way I’ve been taking a chance on her this whole time.

Theo’s face lights up my screen a few minutes later, and I sigh, answering it.

“What?”

“Is that how you always answer the phone?”

“What do you want, Theo?” I ask out of exasperation.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“You should come out and celebrate the win with us.”

The guys got off the plane and all immediately went to the clubs, and I came home.

“Nah, I’m not feeling it tonight.”

“So, you’re just going to sit at home?”

“Yes. Glad you understand.”

I hang up before he can object.

I trudge into my master bath. Maybe another shower will help wash off whatever this melancholy mood is.

I’m finished much too quickly and back on the couch in my favorite grey sweatpants, forgoing a shirt since I’ll just end up in bed in another hour anyway.

I turn my attention back to the TV—I found a new episode on grey whales I haven’t seen—when there’s a knock at my door.

“So help me God, Theo, I’m not going out tonight!” I yell at the door as I stomp over to it.

I throw it open, expecting to see a grinning idiot, and instead see only Lila.

“Hey,” she says, breathlessly.

“Hi.” My voice is hoarse, my throat dry as I take her in. She’s in a long, tan trench coat, belted tightly at the waist, with black stockings covering her legs below the hem.

She’s wearing sky high black stilettos. My mouth goes dry as I try to swallow.

“I was going to bring flowers, but Theo said you were allergic, so I baked instead.” She holds out a plate I missed, too focused on her legs in the sheer black tights. “They’re peanut butter blossoms.”

I take the offered dish. “Thanks.” My mouth feels parched, and I try in vain to swallow nonexistent saliva.

“So, uhm, I was hoping we could talk?” she asks, her voice more timid than I’ve ever heard it, and it snaps me out of ogling her legs.

“Of course.” I step aside to let her through the door.

I spend a good long time closing the door and locking it behind her, trying to slow my racing heart.

Calm down. You need to talk to her. And she needs to talk to you. You need answers.

I turn slowly and move to set the plate of cookies on the counter.

“Congrats on the win today.”

I glance up at her, and her eyes are intense, locked on my face.

I sigh. “Lila?—”

“No, let me.” I look at her confused, but she plows on.

“I’m scared. Okay?” She takes a deep breath. “You scare me.” That hits me like a punch to the gut.

“What? I don’t—” She holds up a hand, and I trail off.

“Not like that, sorry. I actually feel incredibly safe with you. That’s part of the problem?” I can feel the surprise coloring my expression. How is that a problem?

“I feel safe with you. But you can hurt me, emotionally I mean. That’s why you scare me.”

The dawning of understanding must show on my face, because she continues without further explanation.

“Cal, I’ve been basically alone for a long time.

Technically I’ve been on and off with Dennis, but he’s been living in New York full time for a couple years now, and how much of a life can you really build with someone when you live hundreds of miles apart and break up twice a year anyway?

Not one worth having.” She starts pacing in the kitchen, and I’m frozen, leaning against the countertop with no idea which way this conversation will end up going.

I’m more confused than anything, but wasn’t I just wishing she would come to me? She’s here now, and that’s something.

“I was comfortable being alone. I was content to work and be successful, and watch my sister and her husband have kids, to push off my mom’s nosy question every holiday and ignore the loud whispering of my aunts whenever I left the room.

She throws her hands in the air as she paces. “I was happy to be Katie’s best friend and attend fun parties and meet fancy people who would forget who I was the moment I left to get another drink.”

She stops pacing and looks up at me, eyes bright. “But you weren’t going to ever be one of those people. And I don’t think I can be content with that life anymore.” Her chest rises and falls as she takes a shuddering breath.

“Cal, you make me not want to be alone anymore. You make me happy to be doing more. I’ve felt joy again, not just with you but alone too.

It’s like I was living in black and white, and you brought color with you, but instead of leaving it dark and grey when you left, I could still see the color, in everything.

I don’t want to live in grey ever again. ”

I swallow hard as she draws closer.

“I want this . . . or want to try, at least, if you still want me.” Her hand rests lightly on the belt at her waist.

I take her hand, pulling her toward me as my other arm wraps around her crushing her to my bare chest.

I tangle my hand in her hair, holding her to me, and her arms come around my waist to cling to my back, her nails digging into my lats. She smells different today, and I inhale deeply, trying to memorize her new scent. A little bit spicier, it’s enticing.

I tug her hair gently, pulling her head back so her face is turned up toward me.

I slant my mouth over hers, swallowing the greedy little moans she makes as she opens for me, deepening the kiss.

I step forwards slowly, moving her with me until her back hits the island in my kitchen.

Her hands come off my skin, and then her jacket hits the floor near my feet.

I kiss along her jaw as my hands memorize her skin and lift her easily onto the counter so I can step between her parted thighs.

My thumb brushes against a scratchy patch of lace, and I pull back to peer down at her.

My knees buckle as I take her in. Underneath that tan trench coat, she was dressed in nothing but black lingerie.

“Fuck,” I breathe as I take in the sheer lace stockings held up by a black lace garter belt to match the bra and thong set she’s wearing.

Lila smirks up at me coyly from beneath her lashes.

“Surprise,” she says, her voice husky.

I let my head fall forward to rest at the crook of her neck. “Are you trying to kill me?”

She giggles, locking her ankles at my back and forcing me closer.

The sound in my throat is part moan and part growl as I reattach my mouth to her throat, more hungrily than before.

Her fingers rake my scalp as I press hot, open-mouthed kisses down to the fabric at her chest. I slide my finger slowly under the strap on her shoulder and guide it down, waiting for her to stop me.

She arches into me in response. I continue the path, pulling the cup out of the way to suck her nipple.

I graze it with my teeth echoing my own need with a guttural sound.

She’s hot against me as I grind against her core, even through the two layers of fabric separating us.

I trail one hand down along the outside of her thigh and over her knee, sliding it wider before gliding it back up the inside.

She bucks against my hand as I cup her, the damp lace adding to the friction.

I smirk against her collarbone and ease the scrap of lace to the side.

I tease her opening with my middle finger, circling the entrance and collecting her arousal.

“You’re so wet for me, love.” I groan and bring my finger up to my mouth. Her pupils are blown wide as I suck her juices from my hand.

“Do you want to taste how sweet you are?”

Something low in my throat escapes as she nods her head, and rather than re-wet my finger, I capture her mouth, instantly deepening the kiss and stroking her tongue with my own. She whines as she tries to pull me flush against her once more.

“Use your words, love.”

She gasps, “Please Cal, please .”

“Please what?” I drag my hand back down circling her clit once. “Please this?”

She whimpers, and I swear to God half my brain turns off, because all I can consciously think about is giving her what she wants, what we both want.

I slide a finger in, heat licking up my spine at how tight and warm she is. I add a second finger moments later, and after only a few minutes circling her clit, I have her wound so tightly her breathing is coming in pants.

“Please,” she begs.

“Please what?” I tease again, “Words, love. Remember?”

Her answering moan isn’t exactly a response, but the way she reaches for my waistband definitely is.

I capture her wandering hand and intertwine our fingers, keeping them at her side.

“You’re going to come like this.”

She whimpers again, and I increase my circles, two fingers still pumping in and out in a steady rhythm.

“Can you do that for me?” She shakes her head and I tsk.

“Come on love, be a good girl for me. Come on my hand, and then I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to remember your own name, because the only one you’ll know is the one you’re screaming.”

And the dirty talk must do it because her walls start to flutter around my fingers. I crook them forward to hit just right and she shatters around me, drenching my hand as I work her through her orgasm.

She sags against me, and I slowly pull out my fingers, gripping her chin with the hand previously holding onto hers.

I press the dripping digits into her mouth, and if she’s worn out, she doesn’t show it because her eyes come alive again as she eagerly sucks them clean, working her tongue over and around them, taking both fully into her mouth and looking up at me through her lashes.

Fucking gorgeous.