She rolls her eyes and smiles. “If anything, I walkedyouto my door.”
“Fair. But still?—”
Costy and Burnsy, who appear out of nowhere, burst into laughter, and I hear Costy murmur something about winning their bet. Fucking dicks.
I hear Carrington’s muffled voice behind me before I hear the doorknob across the hall jiggle. “Boys, how many times?!”
“Hurry!” Shay squeals, fisting my shirt and yanking me inside her room, quickly but quietly shutting the door behind us right as I hear Carrington’s pull open. She shoves me behind her, immediately peering through the peephole, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly.
These coaches are some of my best wingmen.
“Thank God. I don’t think he saw us,” she murmurs, leaning forward with her face still glued to her door, her ass pushed back toward me, drawing my gaze down to her hips, reawakening the fire in me in a single second.
Jesus Christ.
Stepping forward, I silently place my hands beside hers on the door and lean down, breathing her in. “Is he still out there?”
She jumps from the sound of my voice, her ass brushing against the front of my pants, which are doing little to hide my excitement. My right hand falls to her hip as her back arches ever so slightly, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
Gently, I dig my fingers into her side, and her body responds greedily.
“Come on, Shay. Tell me, is he still there?”
My other hand slips from the door, and I run my fingers between her shoulder blades, down the back of her coat to the top of her ass. A shudder runs through her, and her breathing quickens.
When was the last time someone made her shiver? When was the last time someone made her come?Nope. Maybe I don’t want to know the answers to those questions because I might keel over from jealous anger.
“He’s back in his room,” she mutters, still frozen in place, looking into the hallway, her body still responding to my every command from my fingers.
Pushing against her lower back, I help her right herself and turn her around to face me, tipping her jaw up so she’s forced to meet my eyes.
She’s nervous, an uncertainty in her eyes that I can’t explain.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Shay. Tell me. Please.”
Would it be torture to go another day without knowing what she tastes like? Yes, but I’d wait a lifetime for a moment with her.
Slowly, her gaze heats up and travels down my front and gradually back up to my stare. “I, umm … I haven’t done anything in a few years. I might not be very good at it. I’m very out of practice.”
“Shh, shh, shh.” My whispers are soft confessions between us. “I promise you, you’re perfect.”
Her eyes tip upward. “I’m serious, Matt. I don’t know if my arm, my hand, or my damn body will cooperate.”
Leaning down, I graze my lips across hers. “You’re perfect. No matter what, Shay, you’re perfect.”
A smirk skirts across her mouth, and her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “If my arms don’t want to cooperate, I guess I’ll just have to use my mouth.”
A shudder shimmies down my back, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. “Christ, Rooney, you are driving me insane.”
Her shoulders relax, and she rolls onto the balls of her feet. Pressing her cheek against mine, she whispers in my ear, “Good.”
She wants this—to break this tension as badly as I do. It’s eating me alive, and I know it has to be doing the same thing to her.
“What happened to waiting until after the finals?” I murmur as she rocks back to her heels, peering up at me through her long lashes.
With a soft shrug, she bites down on her bottom lip. “I was thinking …” I wait with bated breath for her to finish, willing to agree to whatever proposition she’s offering. “What if, for the sake of the team, we give in? Just once.”
Humor flutters in my breathy chuckle. “For the team, of course. We can’t be distracted.”
