The guy keeps looking at me, but I have no idea what to say.
He laughs one, almost a bark. “Are you having a panic attack right now?”
“I—no?” It comes out squeaky and like a question and I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole, right now. What the bloody bollocks is my life?
“You know, I’ve had my fair share of men, and this is a first for me.” He isnothelping.
“Sorry! Sorry.” I press my thumbs into my eyes so hard it hurts. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. I don’t want to be so embarrassed and I don’t want to have this conversation, and most of all I don’t want Freddie so firmly lodged in my heart and mind.
“Hey.” He pushes himself up on his elbows and inches closer to me. “Is he someone you’d like to forget?” A hint of a grin tugs his lips upwards and a strand of black hair falls into his face. He is unbelievably beautiful.
“Yes,” I croak and look away again.But I can’t. I can’t escape him.
The guy lowers his head and nudges at my upper arm with his nose. “Hey,” he says again. “Bet you I can fuck him out of your system.”
Now I’m the one to laugh. “I wish.”
“I’m competitive,” he says and the grin grows wider. “Love a challenge.”
“Ha. Yeah, me too.” I have set a firm boundary for myself and my hookups; no cuddling, no kissing. Right now, I wish I could break it and snuggle close to him. Have his muscular arms wrap around me. “But it’s difficult. He—” It’s difficult to put into words what Freddie is to me, how he touches me, looks at me, makes me feel. Finally, I settle on: “We work together.” It’s the truth, even if it leaves out so much.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Ugh.” Then he presses his nose into my arm pit and inhales. “How many orgasms, do you reckon? Until it’s my name you scream?”
He’s so nice about the whole thing. He has every right to be offended and storm out of here, leave me and my patheticness and the tragic beige of this hotel room behind. Instead, he’s the opposite. I need to get my head out of my own arse and at least try to match his energy. So I pull my mouth into a bashful smile and blink at him. “That might be difficult,” I say and force my voice into a flirty tone I don’t quite feel. Fake it til you make it. “I don’t remember your name.”
The guy laughs quietly. “Paolo,” he says, then he shifts so he’s half covering my body. “Martin, right?”
Is he trying to make me feel better, or has he genuinely forgotten, too? Either way, it makes me feel more at ease. “Marlon.”
“Marlon.” He repeats the name and there’s the tiniest hint of an accent as he rolls the r. “Okay. Your no kissing rule—it’s only for your mouth?”
“Why?” I ask, pushing up onto my elbows as well. “What did you have in mind?”
Paolo’s dark eyes sparkle. “It’s a yes or no question. If you trust me, tell me, and I’ll work on that challenge.”
I don’t deserve him. I’m also not sure I have another round in me right now, but I suppose trying can’t hurt. Worst case, he’ll finally be as offended as he should be and I won’t see him again. Which, I guess, will be the case anyway. I think of the first kiss with Freddie, how soft and tentative it was and how he—no. God. No. “Kissing is fine from the neck down,” I say and bite my lower lip as I look up at Paolo.
“Mmmh.” He immediately lowers his mouth and licks my clavicle. “Got it. If I blow you, will you let me fuck you again?”
Arousal flutters through me. He’s a gorgeous man who’s shown great emotional maturity and who is clearly into me. It does something to me. “Yeah.” It comes out a little breathless. “Please.”
“Good.” We share a brief smile, then Paolo shifts and lowers his head to lick my nipple.
I arch into his touch and close my eyes. This can be good if I let it. All I need to is to stop thinking. Stop imagining it’s Freddie I’m with. It should be the easiest thing in the world.
CHAPTER 10
Freddie
I’ve putonDr Whoin the background to soothe me. Or, I don’t know, not soothe, maybe. I’m good. Exhausted, my body heavy, emotions dulled by physical duress. Happy, for sure. Super happy. Scoring the decisive goal to keep us in the tournament flooded my body with endorphins. Being such a vital member of the team during my first tournament fills me with pride.
Lying alone in my hotel bed is the loneliest I’ve been in a long time.
It’s not for a lack of attention, for sure. The press has zeroed in on me, thepromising youngster, thescoring phenom. I’ve had cameras in my face, journalists approaching me, team mates clapping my shoulders.
Only…none of it is for me. Freddie, the person, not Freddie Bloom, the player. I want someone to hold me and tell me they’re proud of me and pepper my face with kisses. I could ask DJ, I guess, but we’re not touchy like that.
Also, who am I kidding. DJ is not who I want in my bed right now.
