"Jo?" Sarah peers at me.
"Wrong pipe," I manage, reaching for my napkin.
Emmett then pushes my foot away from him and continues talking strategy with my brother.Is it hot in here?My skin feels flushed.Bastard.
I escape dinner early, complaining about a headache, it's not entirely a lie. My head is pounding, but it has nothing to do withdehydration and everything to do with the six-foot-two problem currently driving me insane. Who seemed to have disappeared, too. The hotel hallway is quiet as I make my way to my room. Most of the team is still at dinner, probably moving on to drinks at the bar after.
I round the corner and stop dead. Emmett is leaning against the wall outside my room. What the hell?
"How do you know which room is mine?"
"I have my ways." He pushes off the wall. Closing the distance between us. "You left early."
"As it seems you have, too. I have a headache."
"Liar." He's close now. Too close. I can see the gold flecks in his green eyes, the slight shadow of stubble along his jaw.
"What do you want, Emmett?"
"You know what I want."
I stare at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"My shoulder."
Oh. I thought ... never mind. "I said I would deal with it in the morning."
"And I'm telling you it's sore now. For someone who has been so worried about my shoulder, you now ..."
"Fine. Let me get my things. What room number are you in?"
"1017."
"You're next door?"
He smirks. "Convenient, isn't it?"
I roll my eyes, this man is frustrating as hell. "Can you fill up the ice bucket with ice for me?"
"Sure."
I swipe my door, open it, and slam it shut behind me. I fall against the door, sucking in a couple of deep breaths. My heart is beating uncontrollably out of my chest. You have a job to do, keep it professional. I can do this. I have been doing this.Tonight is no different to all the other moments I have had my hands on him over the past couple of weeks.
I'm going to get changed into my uniform because this is work. Nothing else. And if someone sees me, they won't think anything untoward is happening.
I knock on room 1017 with my medical bag slung over my shoulder, wearing my Mavericks polo and black pants.
The door swings open, and Emmett stands there in nothing but gray sweatpants, low-slung gray sweatpants, his chest is bare, all hard muscle and golden skin, a trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband.
"You're not wearing a shirt," I say like an idiot.
"You need to work on my shoulder." He steps back to let me in. "Figured I'd make it easier for you."
Right. Of course. This is totally normal. I walk past him into the room, catching his scent again, and set my bag down on the desk.
"Sit on the edge of the bed," I instruct, keeping my voice steady. He does as asked, and I try not to think about all the other things that could happen on that bed. I pull out my supplies, resistance bands, massage oil, ice pack, and move to stand behind him on an angle. "Show me where it's tight."
His hand comes up to touch his right shoulder, fingers brushing over the muscle. "Here. And down through here." His hand trails down toward his shoulder blade.
