Page 102 of Maximum Dare
I let out a long moan at the sensation of having him fill my mouth with his girth; he moved me in endless erotic ways.
“I need to be inside you,” he growled, flipping me over and shoving me toward the end of the couch.
My gasp of surprise caused him to chuckle.
On my hands and knees with him behind me, I jolted when his fingers traced along my sex, parting me there, and then entering two fingers inside me. He tenderly strummed me until my body was pushing back against him, needing, wanting more of him.
“You’re always on my mind,” he said gruffly. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t bear to be away from you.”
My back arched when he thrust in deep. Max pulled all the way out and then shoved himself all the way inside me again. My body exploded with pleasure, causing ripples of lust that stole my next breath. My hips moved fiercely against him, pushing back, while I begged him not to stop. He reached around, the tips of his fingers finding my clit and rubbing it, sending me over as he came with me, catapulting us both into a blinding climax.
He collapsed next to me and I fell on top of him, my head resting on his chest, hearing his heartbeat, and quickly being lulled by it.
Ionly had myself to blame.
Had I been more present for Nick during this visit to London, had I insisted he spend more time with me than that new girl of his, this would never have happened. He’d have completely focused on his training and his head would have been in the game.
It felt like my fault that Nick had been injured and hospitalized. The details were only to be revealed when we spoke with the specialist in person. Nausea welled up in my throat as my imagination took off—maybe the coach had pushed him too far, too fast? Maybe Nick had clashed with another player?
My phone pinged. The text was from Daisy, but I’d have to answer her later. I had to see Nick first and make sure he was okay.
This London facility, with its sprawling campus and state-of-the art medical care, specialized in sports medicine. Nick would be distressed to find himself here.
At the end of the hallway, I saw Mum sitting in a chair.
I rushed toward her. “What happened?”
Gillian looked pale. “The doctor’s in there with him now.”
“Can we go in?” I stared at the door across from us, fearing what I’d find on the other side.
The door opened and a doctor in a white coat appeared, his expression dour.
Mum pushed to her feet. “How is he?”
The orthopedic surgeon approached us. “I’m Doctor Patel.”
“Max.” I reached out to shake his hand. “I’m Nick’s brother.”
Dr. Patel gave a nod. “Nick’s given permission for me to talk with you. His anterior cruciate ligament, which crosses in front of the kneecap, is torn. It helps control mobility of the knee.”
My mouth went dry. “Nick tore his ACL?”
Shit.
“What does that mean?” asked Mum.
“It will affect his ability to play football,” said Dr. Patel.
A somber silence played out until the doctor cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry it’s not better news,” he said. “I’ll operate as soon as we confirm a theatre is available. Until then, he’s NPO.” His brow furrowed. “That’s nothing to eat or drink.”
“They pushed him too hard.” I leaned against the wall. “They did this to him.”
Patel gave me a curious stare. “This injury wasn’t sustained during training, Max. It happened early this morning during a scuffle.”
“What the fuck?” I hissed under my breath.
