Thrown by a Curve
Page 23

Already eager to feel his c**k inside her again, she lifted her leg while he put another condom on. He was back in a hurry, this time sliding inside her with one thrust.
Their coupling was passionate and furious as she ground against him while he pistoned his c**k deep, f**king her with fast, hard strokes that made her crave an orgasm. When she reached between her legs to rub her clit, Garrett slowed down his thrusts.
“Make yourself come. Let me feel your pu**y squeeze the come right out of me.”
She loved the low, dark tone of his voice. It spurred on her movements and brought her ever closer to the cl**ax she was seeking. And when Garrett pulled her onto her knees, she went willingly. She dropped her chest and head to the mattress, and raised her butt in the air, letting him drive his c**k deep into her, needing him inside her as far as he could go.
She swept her hand over her cl*twhile he pounded her with his cock. He gripped her h*ps with his fingers, the pain and pleasure combined sending her spiraling over the edge.
“Garrett, I’m coming,” she cried, her pu**y squeezing his c**k like a vise as she felt the rush of her orgasm.
“I’m going to come in you, Alicia,” he said, his fingers digging into her as he slammed his c**k deep, then shuddered against her. He wrapped his arm around her, and they both fell to the mattress as they rode out their orgasms.
Alicia caught her breath as Garrett rolled them over, then got them a washcloth and towel to clean up.
“Thanks,” she said with a smile.
“You made me sweat,” he said. “You’re always making me sweat.”
“Uh, you’re welcome. Or I’m sorry.”
He brushed his lips across hers. “No apologies for that sweat session.” He kissed her deeply, so deeply her toes curled.
She felt light-headed and ridiculously content.

* * * GARRETT LISTENED TO THE SOUND OF ALICIA’S breathing and felt her body as she nestled against him in bed.
She was tense. A couple of orgasms should have taken care of that tension, but apparently being in bed with him made her anxious.
It took her about a half hour to fall asleep. Her body finally relaxed and her breathing became deep and even.
But she’d struggled with falling asleep. It hadn’t come easy for her.
Maybe he should have given her another orgasm. She needed to loosen up a little more. After all, she hadn’t even wanted to sleep with him.
Maybe he wasn’t as good as he’d like to think he was.
But he knew that wasn’t the case. He liked to watch her come, and damn, had he liked feeling her come when he was inside her. That slow burn had been agony for him, but worth every second. A fast f**k was always fun, and he’d really needed to get off, but he’d loved feeling every inch of her, her pu**y clenching around his dick, tightening around him every time he slid deep inside her.
His c**k hardened as he thought about what it felt like to be connected to Alicia that way.
He’d f**ked a lot of women in his lifetime, but he hadn’t made love to very many. Hell, hardly any. He wasn’t much for deep emotional connections. They only got in the way of having a good time. But there was something about Alicia that begged for more than just a fast fuck, and like it or not, he was into her.
He knew it couldn’t last. She was his therapist. There was already a conflict of interest, and eventually, they’d have to part ways. But tonight they’d had a hell of a good time, and he wanted more of it. So while they were working together, they could also play together.
Because they’d just gotten started, and he wasn’t nearly finished yet.
And hey, sex was good for recovery. Something about orgasms and increased blood flow to healing tissues or something, right?
He’d discuss that with his therapist in the morning.
He smiled and closed his eyes.
 
 
SEVENTEEN
ALICIA HAD SLIPPED OUT OF BED BEFORE DAWN, wanting to get up before she and Garrett woke up together. Avoiding the inevitable awkwardness was always best, and despite sleeping with him last night, this was the light of day, and she was much more clearheaded now about where things stood.
She didn’t regret what had happened between them. She was an adult and had made an adult decision. She hadn’t been coerced, she’d walked into sex with Garrett more than willingly. Which didn’t mean it was going to be repeated. Falling into a relationship with him—sexual or otherwise—would be a huge mistake. Her job was to focus on his recovery, and that meant getting him on the pitcher’s mound. That was her number one objective, and she couldn’t allow herself to get sidetracked. She had a schedule to stick to, and spending days—or nights—playing with him could be disastrous to that timeline. Which wouldn’t be good for his career or hers.
She was hoping he’d see it the same way this morning. He was probably like a lot of guys when it came to sex. One time was great, more than that meant a relationship. Surely he was more interested in getting back to work than having repeat sex performances, right?
She went into her room to take a shower. When she dressed and came out, he was nowhere to be found. That gave her a reprieve, so she made some coffee and grabbed her notebook. She was in the dining room charting some notes when Garrett came inside from his run.
She chanced a quick glance at him as he headed into the kitchen. His back was turned to her as he reached into the cabinet for a glass to pour his orange juice into. His arms were glistening with sweat, his hair wet from the run. He wore shorts and a tank top and as he leaned against the counter, she could still remember what it felt like when he was moving inside her last night.
Her body responded with a tight coiling. She pushed the feeling aside and focused on her treatment plan.
“I woke up alone this morning.”
She squinted her eyes shut. She was kind of hoping he’d want to avoid the topic. Obviously not.
“Yes. I woke early and didn’t want to disturb you.”
He came over to the dining room table and sat across from her. “It was warm in the bed. We could have taken up where we left off last night.”
Her ni**les tightened, her body all over that idea. It was still early. The bed was probably still warm.
No. She wasn’t going there. They weren’t going there, and it was best she suck it up and have this discussion with him now. She lifted her gaze to his. “You know that’s not a good idea.”
He grinned. “Since when is sex not a good idea?”
“Are you really going to make me be the bad guy here?”
He finished off his juice and set it on the table. “I guess I am. Because I don’t see anything wrong with what we did last night. Or with continuing it today. We both had fun. Nobody got hurt.” He moved his arm around. “Even my shoulder survived.”
She resisted the urge to smile. “It’s not a good idea. Your primary goal is pitching. Not having a sexual relationship with your therapist.”
But he did smile. “Oooh, you make it sound dirty when you say it that way.”
She rolled her eyes and stood, then headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. Garrett disappeared, which allowed her to exhale and get her riotous libido under control. She might have mentally resolved that she wasn’t going to have sex with him again, but her body hadn’t yet come to grips with that decision. So it was going to take a little time and probably more than a little mental fortitude.
She never had one-night stands. She’d always had relationships. This time, it would be a one-night stand. They’d had great sex, she’d gotten the release she’d needed, and now she could move on. She was totally over it. She was strong, and she could take working close to him. Touching him and not having him would be hard.
Just like he was hard—his body was hard—and she’d like to glide her hands over him and . . .
“Here, Alicia, let me—”
She almost dropped an egg on the floor as Garrett scooted in next to her to help her cook.
“I can do this.”
“No reason for you to be my cook when I’m perfectly capable.”
He cracked the eggs over the pan then started scrambling.
“I’ll do the bacon, then.”
“Sure.”
She laid the bacon in the other pan, and they worked side by side. She tossed bread in the toaster while he grabbed orange juice. It was companionable. She was conscious of him, of his body brushing against hers in the confined space. Every time he touched her she wanted him to grab her, push her up against the counter, and kiss her like he had last night.
Yeah. She was over it all right. He had taken a shower and he smelled like soap—clean and delicious—and she wanted to lick him all over, then wrap her hand around his c**k and slide him inside her. She was practically vibrating just thinking about it.
She couldn’t handle it. His scent, his body close to hers, was driving her crazy. She still wanted him. Last night had just been a sampling, and she wanted more.
She moved away.
“I don’t bite, you know,” he finally said. “Well, I do bite. You might like it.”
She leaned against the counter. “I can’t do this.”
He frowned. “Do what?”
“This. You and me. Last night was a mistake and we both know it.”
“I don’t agree.” He moved in closer, and she backed away.
“I’m serious, Garrett. I’m serious about getting you ready to pitch and I can’t do that and . . .”
“And what?”
“And have sex with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have to focus. I have to think about you as my patient, not my lover. I have to be detached and clinical, not emotionally involved. I just can’t.”
“Okay.”
“Have you got this?” she asked him while not looking at him. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sure.”
She pushed away from the stove and left the room, needing a few minutes in her room to compose herself. She shut the door and paced, her arms wrapped around her middle.
That hadn’t gone well.
This was ridiculous. She was a hands-on therapist and it was going to be impractical to dash out of the room every time she got within a few inches of Garrett.
Time to suck it up and deal, Alicia. You made this bed.
More like she’d unmade the bed.
She inhaled deeply then went back to the kitchen.
“Breakfast is ready,” he said.
“Great. Thanks.”
They filled their plates and ate in the dining room. Alicia was happy for the space between her and Garrett, though she knew that was only going to last as long as breakfast, because after that they had therapy. At least he seemed content to stop talking about what happened between them last night.
After they ate, she did the dishes. Garrett said he was going into the workout room to warm up, while she lingered a little too long over scrubbing the skillet.
She finally gave up. It was time to do some therapy, so she grabbed her notebook and headed into the workout room.
Garrett was on the bench press. She laid her notebook down and went over to him.
“You shouldn’t do these without me being here.”
He paid no attention to her, so she laid her fingers under the bar while he lifted the weight.
“This is a heavier weight than you normally lift.”
Again, he didn’t answer her, but he didn’t seem to be straining, so she let him go, but she still stood above him to spot him. He did twelve reps, and she helped rack the bar when he finished. He sat up and leaned over to take some deep breaths.
“How did that feel on your shoulder?”
“It felt fine.” He tilted his head back to look at her. “I’m not having any pain.”
“That’s good. But don’t add weight without consulting me.”
He arched a brow. “You think I don’t know what I can handle?”
“I think you have a therapist for a reason. How about you let me be the therapist, and you be the patient?”
“I think you laid out the ground rules about who was who in this relationship pretty clearly earlier,” he said. “I don’t need you to draw me a picture, Alicia. I got it.”
He stood and went to the pulleys, then waited for her. The room temperature seemed to have dropped about ten degrees, the chill between them evident.
Okay, she could deal with this.
When she came over and selected a weight, he said, “Your weights are too light. Add more.”
Now he was acting like a patient. A surly, frustrated athlete. That she could wrap her head around. That she could deal with. As long as she focused on Garrett as just another athlete, she could keep it impersonal.
She looked down at her notes and shifted the weight by five pounds. He tilted his head and gave her a look. “Come on, Alicia.”
“Start there. Do twelve.”
He blew out a breath and did twelve. Easily.
“See? No problem. Now add more.”
She added another five, and he did twelve more. Also without effort. She had him do two more sets, then came up behind him and felt his shoulder, digging in deeply to see if he tensed with pain.
He didn’t. That was a good sign, so she put him through a more rigorous workout, adjusting her notes as he went about the circuit. He was making drastic improvement, but she’d see how he felt at the end of the day. Pushing the muscles and tendons was one thing while he was doing the workout. It was the aftereffects that concerned her the most.
She really wanted him to pitch, however, he needed to rotate that arm. That was going to be the true test of whether he was going to get through this injury or not.