Backstage Pass (6 page)

He leaned his shoulder into mine. “I was kidding. I won’t kiss you if you didn’t like it.”

I couldn’t say that with a straight face, but we weren’t ever going to do it again so it didn’t matter whether I’d liked it or not. Blanking my face so I didn’t reveal a thing, I smiled and met his eyes. “I like where we’re at.”

He nodded once. “Then that’s where we’ll stay.”

I didn’t believe him, but it was enough to get me through breakfast—which luckily arrived before I had to say anything. He looked down his nose at mine while drizzling syrup over his full stack. Without comment, he handed me the bottle. I poured a pool in the corner of my plate.

He coughed. “You’re not serious.”

“Shut it.”

I cut a corner of the avocado explosion that may have contained eggs and dipped it in the syrup. “How fast today?”

Pancakes paused at his lips. “Nine.”

“How far?”

“Seven.”

“I hate you.”

“Run with me when you’re foot’s healed and I’ll get you there.” He popped the pancakes in.

“You’ll be a great trainer.” Kerri waved her fork in the air. “Just pretend you’re going to kiss her.”

My face heated up and I hid behind my coffee mug.

Jesse laughed and high-fived Kerri. Jerks.

Breakfast wasn’t horrible. Again. He was making a habit out of being charming. Good thing we were just friends.

A commotion on the far side of the restaurant saved me from any further humiliation.

“Oh my.” Kerri’s exclamation lifted my head. I swallowed quickly to keep from spewing coffee over the table. Dew and a herd of fit, barely dressed men were headed toward our table—not a boy among them. Sculpted muscle bunched and flexed beneath cut-off sweatshirts, tank tops, and jerseys. My eyes bulged and I swallowed as they jostled and bumped against each other, moving like a pack of wild hyenas. Dew moved with a purposeful stride and I squirmed, feeling very pursued.

A few feet from the table, he grinned and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Told you.”

I grinned. “So you did.”

Kerri leaned across the table and shoved Jesse. “Move. They’re going to sign her cast.”

Jesse looked at me, then Dew, and then surveyed the entire rugby team. “Hey guys.”

Dew leaned forward and bumped Jesse’s knuckles. “You sounded great last week, man.”

“Thanks. You guys taking the Conference this year?” Jesse stood and took a step back, leaning an elbow against the neighboring booth.

Dew pulled a sharpie from his front pocket. “That’s the plan.”

Jesse nodded. “Right on.”

I eased my leg onto the bench and scooted toward the end to give Dew and the team plenty of space to spread their muscles—and signatures.

Dew tapped Jesse’s inscription with his index finger, making my leg wiggle, then gave Jesse a sideways glance. I didn’t have to look at Jesse to know his chest just puffed an entire shirt size. Dew answered in kind.

Fantastic, a peacock strutting contest, right here over my omelet.

Dew wasn’t as overt, choosing only to scribe his name and rugby number. I glanced up long enough to catch Jesse’s glare, then down to my cast. I blinked. Okay, maybe Dew wasn’t as subtle as I thought—he’d added his phone number too.

He handed the sharpie to the next player in line and I was the intense scrutiny of fifteen of the dreamiest—
gawd, was that even still a word?
—fit bodies I’d ever been that close to. My cast looked like a kid’s autographed rugby ball by the time they finished. Dew pushed back through the crowd and tapped the tabletop with the tip of his marker. “Don’t be shy about using that number. We practice every afternoon, but otherwise, I’m around.”

I stared up at him—looking like a complete idiot, I’m sure—and nodded. “I will.”

The player who’d been flirting up Kerri winked at her and she ducked her head. Good grief, we were acting like complete groupies.

They left and I could almost feel Jesse bristling and gnashing over my shoulder. What was his problem? I’d been super clear from the beginning that we weren’t going anywhere. There was absolutely nothing wrong with me crushing on a hardbody.

He moved to the end of the table and I looked up from my cast. He scowled at my fingers resting on Dew’s number and opened his mouth, then shut it again. The muscle in his jaw clenched.

I notched my chin higher.

His gaze lingered on my lips, then lifted. I arched an eyebrow, daring him to comment. Instead of taking the challenge, he drummed the tabletop and turned. “Catch you later.”

He stopped the waitress and said something. She turned up the wattage of her smile, then glanced at our table and nodded. He pulled a bill from his wallet and handed it to her. I think she tried to give him change, but he shook his head, then left.

Kerri cleared her throat. “Well, that was awkward.”

I straightened and swung my cast to the floor. “It shouldn’t be—or wouldn’t be–if he’d bother to listen.”

“You can’t blame him, Sash.” Kerri pushed her plate back. “Especially after—”

“Do. Not.” I didn’t even remotely want to revisit the texts.

She huffed. “Well, it’s true.”

“Texting under the influence gets an automatic pass.”

She scrunched her nose.

“Please,” I stabbed my last forkful of egg. “If you had to answer for every one of your drunk texts . . .”

“Alright, alright.” She laughed.

“That rugby boy is super cute.”

Her eyes widened. “Which one?”

We laughed.

Back at the house, Kerri curled up with her geography notes and I worked on conjugating French verbs until my eyes blurred. Clouds obscured the sky and a light rain ushered in the afternoon. When I couldn’t keep my eyes open I tossed my notes on the coffee table and eased myself upright. A cool breeze drifted through the room and I hobbled to the front door. Jesse’s silhouette at the end of the walk didn’t surprise me. I pushed through the screen door and hopped onto the porch.

Arms deep in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, Jesse lifted his head. My heart lurched at the forlorn edge to his features. I wanted us to be friends, not this, whatever it was.

“Out for a run?” I yelled through the drizzle.

He didn’t answer.

The wind picked up and a gust slipped around the side of the porch, knocking me off balance. I scrambled for a handhold, but the bench was too far away. My weight shifted and I pinwheeled my arms. Solid arms wrapped around my waist and held me over the warped boards of our aging patio. I pressed my palms into them until they shook. My hamstring burned with trying to keep my cast from hitting.

Jesse slid his arms further around me and squatted until he held my full weight. Was I ever going to stop leaning on him? I exhaled and my body trembled. Another gust buffeted us and he lost his balance. I shrieked and braced myself for the jolt of pain. His arms tightened around me and he twisted, landing on his back and breaking my fall. My chest smashed into his and my chin dug into his sternum.

He groaned, but his arms held me tight.

I twisted. Somehow, he’d managed to catch my cast with his ankle and had his foot propped against the bench. Relief flooded my limbs and I sagged against him. He bent his knee so our legs weren’t angled so awkwardly.

His cellphone dug into my stomach and I inched higher, not feeling stable enough to stand just yet. I squeezed my eyes closed and willed the patio to stop spinning. These pain meds were going to be the death of me. My skin tingled where Jesse’s fingers rested on the base of my skull and the small of my back.

“If you keep fidgeting like that, I’m going to need a cigarette.”

I froze.

He chuckled and the sensation vibrated through my torso.

“You said you quit.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah well, now I need one for an entirely different reason.”

Suddenly very aware of his body beneath mine and my breasts rubbing against his chest, I tugged my hands from between our bodies and pushed. His grip tightened and his fingers traced small circles across my skin. As much as I wanted to hate his touch, it made me feel safe, and tingly.

I opened my eyes and stared at the crooked porch railing. It rolled and swayed like the deck of a boat. I closed my eyes again. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to lie here for another minute until I got my bearings.

Wind lifted sections of hair and brushed them across my face. Jesse combed them back and tucked them behind my ear. More tingling waves radiated outward from his fingers along my skin.

“How many cigarettes have you had?”

“Since the deal?”

I nodded, grinding my cheek against the soft nap of his sweatshirt.

“None.”

I lifted my head and rested my chin against his chest, raising one eyebrow.

His fingers trailed down my neck and rested on my shoulder. “I’m serious.”

He did look honest. And I couldn’t smell it on him. But he was chewing that green gum again.

“And I’m supposed to just believe you?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Never. You should always do a taste test.”

I rolled my eyes and lay my head back down. Even with his teasing, he felt good. And solid.

He lifted his hand and let my hair sift through his fingers. I’d taken it out of the ponytail several French verbs ago when my headache made an energetic return. I still hadn’t taken a shower and it was freaking me out a little that he was so contentedly playing with it. And that I was so contentedly letting him.

“Sasha!” Kerri’s alarmed scream made me jerk upright, elbowing Jesse in the gut.

He groaned and curled inward, rolling us over.

Kerri raced through the door, slamming the screen door into Jesse’s ankle.

“Damn! You girls are going to kill me.”

I eased up on my hands and knees. Jesse pulled up in a crouch and helped me stand. Kerri wedged her hands over the top of his and together they helped me into the house.

“I’m fine.” Jesse supported most of my weight and Kerri pulled the door shut behind us.

“I looked up and you were gone. Then I remembered hearing a thud. God, Sash, I’m so sorry.”

I laughed. “Yeah, fat lot of help you are.”

“Good thing Jesse’s always around at the right time.”

My heart sped up.
Yeah, good thing
.

He eased me onto the couch and settled next to me. “I didn’t bring dinner this time.”

Kerri’s gaze bounced to Jesse’s arm around my shoulders to my hand resting on his thigh. I moved it, but she scrambled toward her purse. “I’ll go. Chinese okay?”

Jesse tucked me tighter against his side. Exhaustion tugged at my limbs and I nodded at Kerri.

She raced out the door. “Be back in five.”

Jesse tucked my head into his chest and his magic fingers started again at my nape. A moan-sigh noise trickled from my lips. As badly as I wanted to blame my response on the drugs, I couldn’t remember taking any since this morning. Which meant my earlier dizziness wasn’t from them either.

His thumb pressed into the tight cord in my neck and pain jolted down my arm. I moaned.

“Does that hurt?”

“Yes, but the good kind.”

I think his lips pressed against my temple, but his fingers dug into the knot next to my spine and I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. He hit another sore spot and I gasped. My fingers dug into his thigh.

“Should I stop?” His voice sounded husky.

“Mmm.” I couldn’t manage anything more. Colors swirled behind my closed eyes. A tingle radiated outward from my toes and up both my shins. My body sagged against him and he shifted me until I was resting on my stomach across his thighs. His fingers squeezed and pressed against my tight muscles until the knots released one by one. Sliding down my spine, his fingers worked over every bump in my spine and fiber of muscle. The hem of my t-shirt inched upward and his fingertips brushed my skin. A burst of fireworks erupted in my belly and I fought the urge to press upward into his hand. I squeezed my eyes shut and his hand moved upward over the fabric again.

I sighed.

“Better?”

Part of me wanted to say yes, but the other half didn’t want him to quit. “If I say yes, will you stop?” My words sounded slurred with my lips pressed into the couch.

He chuckled and shifted. “Here. Sit up and turn.”

I rose, awkwardly bumping against his chest and the back of the couch. He slipped his hands beneath my arms and turned us both until his back rested against the arm and our legs extended across the entire couch. The couch dipped and my butt settled against him. I swallowed, but before I could move away, he cupped my shoulders and dug into those muscles. All awkwardness fled and I relaxed.

He worked his way across different angles of my neck and back to my shoulders, following the muscles and tendons to the front. At the collar of my shirt, he hesitated, then retreated back to my shoulders. He bent his knee and I sank deeper into the sagging couch. My hands gripped the middle of his thighs, and I unclenched my fingers.

He laughed. “Thanks. That’s some grip.”

I rubbed them briskly, then froze when he stiffened. At least he’d changed into running pants and I wasn’t touching his bare skin.

His fingers slid across the neck of my shirt and I bit my lip. He worked the top of my chest muscle—no differently than any other massage—but my heart hadn’t ever sped up like this. The pressure eased, and his touch became a caress across my skin. I arched my back and his fingers dipped lower over the curve of my breast, stretching the neck of my shirt. Warm breath tickled my hair and his lips pressed against my ear. My palms flattened against his thighs and I rubbed them in slow circles. He leaned us back. Trading the neck of my shirt for the hem, he slid his hand across my stomach, making my skin jump. His tongue traced the edge of my ear and I tipped my face, granting him access to my neck. As his hands slid higher and cupped my breasts, I arched my back and the curve of my ass rubbed against him.

He froze. My hands stilled on his thigh. I could feel his heart pounding against my back and his heavy breathing lifted me up and down. Slowly, he pulled his hand from under my shirt and pressed his forehead against my ear.

“I can’t be just friends, Sasha.” He sat up and tucked his fingers beneath my hips, then eased me a few inches away. “This was a bad idea.”

Was it?
Two days ago I’d been certain about how I felt. Now I wasn’t so sure. His thighs were rock hard beneath my fingers. I should move, but something inside knew if I did there’d be no going back. I’d forever seal him into the Friend Zone.

That’s what I wanted, right?

My hard lines were beginning to blur.
Maybe he really is different.

I stiffened and lifted my hands into my own lap. No.

Easing my way over his thighs, I scooted to the far side of the couch. When I met his eyes, I flinched. He saw the exit sign to the Friend Zone too.

It’s the only way, Sasha.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. If we’re going to be friends, we should cool all the touching.” My guts jumped at my words. A sure sign that my lines weren’t just blurred—they didn’t even exist anymore.