“I’m not surprised you still have it. In fact, I’m pissed you never sent me a copy.”
And then he taps out his number and sends it to himself via text before he hands my phone back to me. I’m not sure if I should be ashamed or extremely turned on that he just did that. But I feel like I’m quickly losing my ability to keep this meeting on a professional level.
But I don’t have time to say anything more because Kellan jumps out of his chair, grabs the contract from the table, and heads toward the door.
As his hand reaches the handle and he opens it, he peers over his shoulder at me as I sit there in stunned silence. He waves the contract in the air.
“I’m going back to my room to review these,” he says, his voice husky and not from sleep. “And I’ll review the message you sent me, too and I’ll consider both with great detail.”
Before he leaves, he says over his shoulder one last time before he’s out of earshot, “And we’ll discuss them both over drinks tonight after the dinner event.”
The door swings shut, and I drop my head, banging it twice on the table.
Maybe I was a tad bit over-confident in my ability to check off Kellan Muller as a future client.
Because our past seems to be creating quite the complication.
Chapter Four
Kellan
I jerked off twice since returning to my chalet this morning, both times with the phone in one hand, my cock in the other, as I stared at the picture from Hollis’s photos.
It evokes flashes of memories so strong that I can practically taste her juices on my tongue as if I’d just tongue-fucked her today and not two years ago.
Fuck, that week spent with Hollis was incredible, and she was up for anything. And I mean, anything.
Had I wanted to bend her over the railing on the small veranda of my room, she would’ve been game. She has sexual stamina to match my own and was more than a great fuck. She was everything. Once I lost out in the games, we spent every moment we could together, and she was the closest thing to a girlfriend I ever had.
But unfortunately, no matter the level of sexual chemistry we had or how much we wanted to give it a try, our career situations put a stop to any thought of that moving forward. The logistics were just too difficult to overcome.
When she reached out to me last week to ask if I’d be up to meeting with her again, but this time in a professional sense, I made sure I was available, canceling all my other engagements except for my training sessions, where I’m heading to right now.
I know Hollis wants to bring me on as a client and needs another world champion on her roster, but I fear my odd requirement might be too steep of a price for her to pay to bring me on board. Does she need me enough to give me what I want?
That remains yet to be seen but I guess we’ll find out tonight.
I push through a thirty-minute cardio session on the elliptical and then start in on my weight training, my trainer Gus encouraging me along and blasting the music in the workout facility. There are a few other guests going about their routines, but all the women here this weekend for this event are all back in the main lodge waiting to meet Brett. The man they came to meet.
Brett. I roll my eyes at the thought of him.
We used to be friends. Good friends, in fact. Both competitors in the same sport, coming up the ranks with each competition we participated in, hanging out in same places around the globe and in search of that elite status to add to our ever-growing accolades. World Champion.
And we’ve both been there and done that.
There was nothing dramatic that drove us apart – no girlfriend stealing or cheating scandal à la Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding. It all just went downhill after the last Olympic games. He stopped hanging out with me or inviting me along with his group and I finally gave up trying.
We drifted apart and now when we see each other it’s a simple head nod and casual hello like we’re simply acquaintances.
I have no ill will toward him and am happy for him in this celebrity endeavor to reach more fans. More power to him. He deserves it. He is the reigning champ of the FIS Alpine World Ski Championships last year.
Yes, I was bummed I didn’t take the title, but I know this is my last competitive year and then I’m out. I don’t want the spotlight or pedestal anymore. Only if it includes the winning gold in this year’s Olympics. It’s actually a relief because I was always one step away from that big life-threatening injury. The last one was close enough. So, I’m ready to give coaching a try.
But that comes only with Hollis’s help.
I do my last rep of bicep curls and move to the chest press bench as Gus steps over to spot me.
“Will you be attending the dinner tonight with all the snow bunnies?” he asks, as I grunt through the first ten reps.
