Thrown by a Curve
Page 18

She let out a soft laugh that made his balls quiver. “I don’t hurt myself. It’s my job.”
“Your job has to be hard on your hands.” He massaged them, rubbing his thumbs over her wrists.
“Oh, God, that feels good. Now who’s the masseuse?”
He liked making her feel good. It surprised him how much he liked making her feel good. He didn’t want her to hurt in order to fix him. “How hard is therapy on you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What you do to me—stretching my muscles or tendons—that takes some power, and you’re not exactly a big person. How hard is that on your body?”
“I’m trained to do it, Garrett. I don’t hurt myself.”
He flexed her wrists. “Yeah, but who gives you a massage at the end of the day?”
“I don’t need one.”
“I’ll bet you get sore working on athletes. I know what our bodies feel like. You’re working on some hard muscles. And after this injury I’ve studied some anatomy—you’re having to work with tendons and capsules and some of that other shit. You have to dig pretty deep—that’s why what you do to me hurts so damn bad, right?”
She studied him. “It’s good that you’re so well-informed. It helps your recovery. But honestly, there’s nothing wrong with my hands.” She pulled them away from him and wriggled her fingers and flexed her wrists. “See? They’re just fine.”
He didn’t believe her. “Are you sure?”
She made a move to stand, so he stood to get out of her way. “I’m positive. I haven’t been at this as long as some of the veteran therapists. Now they might have some issues after years and years of practice. But me? I’m fine. I take good care of myself.”
“Turn around.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Turn around.”
“Why?”
“I want to see if you’re as tight as I was.”
“Absolutely not. You don’t get to be my therapist. I’m here to take care of you, remember?”
Ignoring her, he spun her around, and before she could object, he laid his hands on her. He was no expert, but he instantly zeroed in on the rock-hard muscles between her neck and shoulders.
“Just as I thought. Your muscles are tightened up.”
She fought to turn around, but he pinned her between the chair and his body.
“Garrett. You are absolutely not going to rub my shoulders. Do you know how much money your arm is worth?”
“Yeah. My agent broke it down for me by the number of years of my contract. And then by month. She was very thorough.”
“Exactly.”
“And if I want to give a massage, I can.” He was already pressing in on her skin, using his thumbs and fingers to try and release the tension. “Just think of it as more therapy for me.”
“I’m thinking you’re not listening to me.”
“Yeah, whatever. I don’t always take direction well.”
Having her close like this was the worst form of self-torture. His nose was in her hair, and that citrusy smell drove him crazy. Her skin was soft, and with her butt nestled up against his crotch, he was going to have to do some calculations of earned run averages in order to avoid getting hard.
Alicia kept taking deeper breaths, which propelled her body closer to his. And she’d stopped talking—not a good sign. That meant she was concentrating on the movement of his hands. She either really liked the massage, or she had noticed what was going on in his pants. He took a step back, and she cleared her throat, lifted his hands off her shoulders, and turned around.
Big mistake. Because there it was, the erection that couldn’t be avoided. And her focus went right to it, then her gaze shot to his, all wide-eyed and shocked.
“Um, we should go to bed.”
He lifted a brow.
“Not together, of course. That would be . . . totally inappropriate. I mean, I’m going to bed. In my room. Alone. Thank you for the massage. It was great. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She moved past him, her body brushing the tip of his c**k as she did. It was painful and exciting at the same time.
It was like being fourteen years old again, caught in the locker room with a hard-on because he’d been fantasizing about Miss Smith, the hot twenty-three-year-old gym teacher who’d given them all wet dreams. How many times had he—hell, all the boys—tried to disguise erections when they’d been running track while Miss Smith had stood out in the center of the field working with the girls?
But he wasn’t an awkward teenager anymore. He was old enough to control his libido around a desirable woman, especially a woman he had a working relationship with.
Fuck. He dragged his fingers through his hair and walked down the steps, deciding he needed a walk by the ocean to cool down his raging hormones.
He stood on the beach, his c**k hard and throbbing and seemingly in no hurry to go flaccid.
Great. If he could just get thoughts of Alicia’s body, her scent, out of his head, he’d go soft.
Instead, his head was filled with her, and his c**k stayed hard. How was he going to explain that if he ran into her when he went back inside? She was already nervous and skittish around him, and waving his erection around would no doubt send her packing. He didn’t want to scare her off.
Maybe he’d just jack off here at the edge of the ocean. There were no other homes within miles of this secluded beach property, no boats out on the water, which gave him plenty of privacy. He was hard and aching, and it wouldn’t take much time to get off.
He drew his sweats partway down and pulled out his cock, taking it firmly in his grasp. It jerked in his hand, and he rolled his thumb over the head.
Garrett imagined Alicia walking out right now, seeing him like this. He knew how she’d likely react, but he imagined how he’d want her to react.
He’d want her to drop to her knees and put her mouth on him. His balls tightened at the mental image of her lips surrounding the swollen head, her tongue flicking out to lick up the pearly drops of fluid that spilled from the tip.
She had a beautiful mouth. He’d thought about kissing her again—a lot. Granted, he concentrated on her hands because she touched him, but her mouth—yeah, he wanted her mouth on him. On his mouth, on his skin, and definitely on his cock.
His balls tightened, and he gripped his cock, squeezing it as he jerked his hand over the soft skin. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, so close to the edge he was ready to explode. But the fantasy of Alicia on her knees was too sweet to let go of.
Just a few more minutes.

* * * ALICIA PRESSED A COLD WASHCLOTH TO HER NECK, splashed water on her face, paced back and forth in her room, and finally opened the window, hoping the night air would do something to bring her internal body temperature down.
But nothing worked.
Having Garrett’s hands on her hadn’t helped, and try as she might to convince him to stop, he hadn’t. First her hands, then her neck and shoulders. He’d given her goose bumps.
In therapy training, they had all touched each other. She’d had plenty of great-looking men put their hands on her, and she’d never gotten turned on. Not once. After all, this was her job. She’d never been attracted to any of the men she’d gone to school with or worked with, either in a peer capacity or with a patient.
Until now.
Staying here at the house was only going to make things worse. This had been such a mistake. But she was stronger than her libido and her fantasies, and she could gain control over them.
Couldn’t she?
She pressed her cool hands to her hot face. What was wrong with her? She had to get a grip on herself, had to put some distance between them, put this sexual fire out, or she would never be able to do her job.
Because physical distance was an impossibility. She had to be able to touch Garrett and not go up in flames every time she did.
She opened the back door, letting the cool breeze fan the flames.
And then stopped, her jaw dropping as she caught sight of Garrett.
She blinked, certain she was imagining what she saw.
But as her eyes adjusted to the darkness outside, she made out Garrett’s form at the edge of the water.
His sweats were drawn down low on his hips, and he had his c**k in his hand, slowly drawing it through his fist. He had his head thrown back and his eyes closed, the tension in his body evident as he touched himself.
Her throat went desert dry. She couldn’t swallow, didn’t want to move, afraid the slightest movement would draw his attention. She had to get out of the light, so she took a step back, ashamed that she was watching him in this private moment but so enthralled by what he was doing she couldn’t turn away.
He was beautiful, his chest bare, his back bowed as he thrust his c**k into his fist, mimicking the act of sex as he powered his shaft forward.
Her pu**y clenched; her cl*tfluttered, demanding her attention. She slipped her hand into her shorts and palmed her sex, needing release.
She whispered out a gasp as she watched his tempo increase, wishing she were bold enough to walk out there and face him, show him what she needed.
She wanted to give them both what they obviously wanted. But she couldn’t. Staying hidden was thrilling, making her throb with want and need, but it was wholly unsatisfying when who she really wanted was standing out there on the beach, satisfying himself.
He’d wanted her tonight; the evidence had been so clearly outlined. And she’d walked away. Now he was taking care of his own needs when she could be out there, on her knees in the sand, her mouth on his beautiful cock, licking the crest, taking him between her lips, and sucking him until he exploded. Until they both exploded.
Her body taut with need, her legs shook as she swept her fingers over her aching pussy, her pulse pounding as she slipped her fingers inside, imagining what it would feel like if Garrett pushed her to the sand and plunged his c**k inside her.
She let out a low moan, her fingers wet and her pu**y gripping them tight as she watched him. His body was utter perfection as he rapidly jerked his cock. He looked like a god of the ocean out there, his body bathed in moonlight, his head tilted back as he moved with the fluid grace of someone who knew his own needs so well.
He was close to coming. So was she as she rubbed the heel of her hand against her clit.
She wanted him to f**k her, wanted to feel his muscled body hot and slick against hers, driving relentlessly into her, rolling against her until she splintered.
And when he thrust his h*ps forward and come jettisoned from his cock, she bit down on her lip and forced back her cry as she released, burying her fingers inside her pu**y as waves of orgasm poured from her. They were coming together, and all she wanted was Garrett inside her, gripping her h*ps as he pounded his release into her.
Damp and shaken, she turned away, resting against the wall. She pulled her hand from her shorts as she caught her breath and closed her eyes, reliving the moment over and over again as her body pulsed with the aftereffects of that amazing orgasm.
When a few minutes had passed and she dared to take a peek out the window, Garrett was gone.
She went into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were pink, her skin was damp, and her whole body trembled.
So much for fleeing in here to cool her body down. She was a wreck. Her ni**les tingled and her pu**y quivered. She was still turned on, the images in her head nowhere near going away.
Facing Garrett tomorrow was going to be very difficult.
Running away from him tonight hadn’t helped at all. It had only made it worse.
 
 
THIRTEEN
GARRETT GOT UP AND WENT FOR A RUN EARLY, THEN grabbed some juice and went right to the gym for a lifting workout. That’s where he met Alicia, who came in dressed in tight-fitting spandex yoga pants and a tank top.
“Mind if I work out with you?” she asked, setting her towel and bottled water on the elliptical.
Jacking off last night hadn’t put him in any better mood. He figured the run might generate some endorphins, but he was still in a mood. “You can do whatever you want. There’s plenty of equipment here.”
She didn’t seem bothered. “Okay, thanks.”
She plugged earbuds in, turned on what he assumed was music, and started her workout. Instead of concentrating on her fine ass moving up and down on the elliptical, he was determined to focus on his workout. The one thing he could always count on to distract him was training his body. He worked with the weights, at least the ones he was allowed to do on his own, which meant legs and abs. Upper-body training was off-limits except under the direction of his trainers or his therapist, so he’d have to wait for Alicia.
He’d lost track of time, but he hadn’t lost track of Alicia, who after working up a sweat on the elliptical had moved to weights.
She was strong. She hadn’t once asked him to spot her, and despite being slight, she could heft a decent amount of weight on her own. He was impressed, and he liked watching her body.
Which he shouldn’t be doing at all since that’s what had put him in a bad mood to start with. He should do less ogling of her form and more paying attention to his own.
“You ready for me to work with you on your upper body?” she asked, swiping the towel over her neck and chest, which only made him focus on her breasts, which weren’t large but still made him want to run his tongue across her cleavage. She was damp with sweat, which only made him think of getting her sweaty in other ways.
Naked.
Dammit.
“Sure.” The sooner he finished this workout, the sooner he could avoid her, which was his new plan. Avoidance.
“Let’s start with a light bench press to warm you up,” she said, and off they went on the upper-body work.