Page 41 of Cross-Checked

“Have someone ask me again after our next game.”

“After the way you responded last time?” I ask with an incredulous laugh. Like I’d trust him again. I’m not even sure I want him in front of the media after what happened in the pressroom a few days ago. But, as team captain, it’s kind of expected.

“Trust me,” he says, as if such a thing was possible. “Have someone ask me again.”

I press my lips together between my teeth, wondering if it’s worth the risk. The right statement from him could help, but ifhe goes off script again...“Not unless you get some coaching on what you’re going to say first.”

“I don’t need fucking coaching on what to say.” Letting out a huge sigh, he sits back in his seat.

I follow suit, but the second my shoulder blade makes contact with the back of the seat, I wince. I try to hide it, but he’s quick to ask what’s wrong.

“Just sore,” I say breezily.

“Are you bruised from the fall?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve looked at my back since getting dressed this morning.”

“You weren’t bruised then,” he confirms.

“I thought you said you were keeping your eyes closed?” He’d promised he wouldn’t look at me while he helped me get my dress on today. It had been easy for me to get into the short-sleeved dress; he’d just needed to zip up the back for me.

“I said I wouldn’t look while you were putting the dress on. I didn’t say I was going to zip it up with my eyes closed. Anyway, I didn’t see any bruises, but the dress was covering most of your back.” He stands, rounding the table toward my seat. “Let me check.”

“What?” I shrink back in my chair, which is foolish because the minute my full back hits that seat, I yelp in pain. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no need.” I keep my words breezy so he won’t notice how my entire body is heating up at the thought of his hands on me. I need to keep the boundaries between us clear—something he doesn’t seem to know how to do.

“I’m going to have to unzip your dress later on so you can change, anyway,” he says. “You’re done eating, so why not now?”

“Because...” I say, but I can’t think of any good reason except that I can tell there’s bruising and I don’t want him to see it. He already has some sort of a martyr complex about helpingme recover since I saved Abby from injury. I don’t need that complex to get any stronger when he sees what shape my body’s in after that fall.

“Stand up, Alessandra, before I haul you out of that chair.” His words are low, but they’re not threatening. They’re a caress, a promise that he’ll get his way but he’ll be gentle in doing so.

“You wouldn’t.”

He puts his hand on the back of my seat, easily turning the chair so I’m facing him. “I would. So I highly suggest you stand on your own, or you’re going to end up over my shoulder.”

I’m so tempted to test him, to sit here stubbornly, just to see if he’d actually do it. But that feels like a line I’m not willing to cross, so instead, I stand.

“There, happy?” I huff.

He looks down at me, and there’s a heat in his eyes that shouldn’t be there. His voice is low and raspy as his breath coasts along the top of my head. “Good girl. See how easy it is to do what you’re told?”

I close my eyes, gulping as I tilt my head down, away from the sound of his sexy-as-hell voice. There’s no reason those words should have my underwear already damp, but that’s what’s happening. I should be telling him to check himself, but my body is having an entirely different response.

Stop it right fucking now,I tell myself, willing my good sense to return. Whatever it is he does to my senses, and the way my body responds to him...it needs to stop.

“Just unzip me, McCabe. I can look at my own back in the mirror in the bathroom. I don’t need your help,” I say, too quietly, and he looks at me like he knows I’m trying to hide from him even while we stand toe to toe.

He brings his knuckles under my chin, tilting my head back so he can see my face, and goosebumps erupt along my chest and down my arms. “What is it you don’t want me to see?”

Me,I want to scream. Because right now, with him staring down at me, this whole situation feels too raw, too vulnerable. Like not only will he be able to see how bruised and battered my body is, but maybe he’ll even be able to see that my heart is in the same condition.

“I’m your boss,” I say, because I feel like maybe we both need that reminder.

“Like I could forget,” he says, eyes searching mine. “But you’re also the woman who saved my daughter from getting injured, and I’m going to take care of you until you’re recovered.”

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