I chuckle. “It’s going to be the headline: Getting myWooden Spoon in Rhiannon Morrigan’s Lucky Game Knickers.”
She groans. “I only have fugly granny knickers. And I swear to God if you jinx us for the season, and we get the wooden spoon, I’ll beat you to death with it. I have to go.”
I grab her hips. “But you’re hungover, and it’s early.”
She nods. “And I’m soaking wet and ready for another round, but I have to...” She grinds her pelvis against mine, tormenting us both. “I have a gym session with the coach, and this was the only time she could slot me in.”
“No birthdays off for the fly-half?” I heave out a disappointed sigh, which makes her laugh.
“Why? You had plans for us today?”
I love when she nibbles on my jawline. “Yeah. I planned to spend the day in bed.”
“I’ll be back before lunch, and we can shower, eat together, and then prepare ourselves for Sunday dinner at my ones.”
“Ugh.” A groan I don’t mean to make slips out of my mouth. “Can I fake my own death?”
She laughs. “Afraid not, you promised my mother you’d bring her some clippings. And she takes her plants almost as seriously as you do.”
Speaking of plants, I need to give them all some TLC while Rhiannon’s at the gym. “Okay, fine. I’ll relinquish possession of you until you get back. But please note, it’s with extreme prejudice I’m letting you leave this bed.”
She wiggles her hips again, and my sleepy dick’s waking all the way up.
“Fuck. You’re going to be the death of me, Rhiannon Morrigan.”
She grins before hopping off the bed and swaying her hips as she walks her naked ass toward the bathroom. “Yeah.” She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “But what a way to fucking go!”
CHAPTER 44
Rhiannon
“You’re looking strong today.” Charlie, my strength coach, doesn’t give compliments easily, so when she says I’m looking strong, I pocket it for the next time she calls my arms wet pasta. Everything aches. My liver’s still on fire from last night.
And I’m pretty sure this warm-up is what hell feels like.
We’ve done our foam rolling and band activation, and by we, I mean me. She’s sat watching everything I’m doing with pursed lips and judgmental eyes.
She called the opener a dynamic warm-up, but what she meant was the quick path to death. Warm-ups are supposed to wake up your muscles and get you ready for the workout, but today, it feels like the warm-upisthe fucking workout.
“You’re hungover, aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “Charlie, you were at my birthday party last night. You know I’m hungover.”
She tosses me a massive, weighted medicine ball to throw against the wall. “Three sets of ten.”
I hate her. My muscles hate her. And there’s a small part of me that feels like I might end up throwing up if I keep pushing.But it’s what we do. Pausing, I cram the ball against my side while I crouch to grab my water bottle. Charlie takes the opportunity to swing her foot at my arse. “You seem happier this season, Rhi.”
The season hasn’t even started, but I know that’s not what she’s angling at. I’ve known her since I was ten years old. There’s rarely a facet of my life that Charlie isn’t familiar with. It feels dangerous, being this happy. Like I’m tempting the universe to take a swing. But I sure as hell am not going to say that out loud.
“I was sure you’d fall apart after that arsehole did what he did.” She pauses. Maybe she’s done, or maybe she’s searching for what to say next. “I’m proud of how you’ve handled yourself this summer, girl. You’ve done yourself and your team proud.”
I throw the ball at the wall and shake my head. “Don’t, Char. I’ll cry. And I’m already on course to hurl.”
She laughs. “I mean it, though. You’ve handled it all so well.”
We move on to sets of Bulgarian split squats and single arm dumbbell push presses. It’s like she’s determined to make every single part of my body burn today.
I’m pretty sure there’s no one on the face of the earth who enjoys Bulgarian split squats, but trainers sure do enjoy handing them out during PT.
