Page 48 of Ace My Heart

“Like I said, Stinky, I have no problem with what you choose to do in your private life.”

“Then you won’t mind if I go back for round two of the best sex of my life,” I lied. His mouth twitched.

“Mel, whatever happened in there, it wasn’t even close to the best sex of your life.”

I snorted, but it came out a little unsteady. “How would you know?” I asked. Joel moved closer to me, gazing down at me with those blue eyes that were a lot like Ben’s only … hungrier.

“Well, for starters,” he murmured, trailing one hand down my arm, “if you’ve had good sex, you breathe differently.” My breathing became shallower and noisier without my permission.

“And your legs go weak,” he continued, letting his hand trail down to my waist and slipping his fingers up under my top to caressmy hip. I locked my knees so he wouldn’t notice how my legs were turning to jelly.

He leaned closer, until his mouth was beside my ear. His breath fanned against my neck, and his free hand reached up to press against my sternum, right between my suddenly heaving breasts. He whispered, “and your heart goes crazy.”

My heart hammered under his palm and hot, achy need rushed through my blood and between my legs. I clenchedeverythingto stop myself from making the sound that was sitting at the base of my throat, clamouring to be moaned out.

Joel took his hands away and stepped back with a triumphant chuckle.

“See, Stinky? You just had better sex with me than you did with Ben, and I didn’t even have to take a stitch of clothing off you.”

I groaned. “I wasn’t excited, you tool! The thought of getting naked with you is horrifying enough to make me breathe differently and lose my balance!”

“Ah, but your heart gave you away.”

I scowled, disgusted at myself – mostly because what he’d just done to me was all kinds of hot. But he wasJoel– it would totally be like having sex with my brother. Wouldn’t it?

Hang on a second – why was I even letting my mind take me there?

I stormed back to my room, Joel’s deep, amused laughter following me. Why had I decided to let him come with me on this trip again? Oh, that’s right, because he knew my game, and he knew his stuff, and he was surprisingly really good at coaching me. Damn, I hated it – I just wanted to find a reason to be genuinely angry at him and I never could.

I flung myself face down on the bed. And the worst part was that everything he had said was right. I shouldn’t be doing anything to compromise my game. And he was right about how I felt after really good sex. And he was right that he’d made me more excited barely even touching me than Ben had by actually sticking his dick in me. And all of this put together just made me more annoyed at him.

With 20/20 hindsight, sleeping with Ben had been a huge mistake. And I wasn’t going to make that mistake twice. I wondered if Ben would be expecting a repeat performance. My brain could easily work itself into confused, worried knots over this, but I was suddenly exhausted, to the point of feeling like my eyelids were weighted down with concrete.

Thank you, jet-lag.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Last Night In The Desert

“You did great, Mel. Your form was fantastic through second and third sets. Yu Yang is an absolute freak! I wouldn’t be surprised if she takes out the whole tournament,” Joel comforted me, passing me my water bottle.

I took a slug. “And hey, I beat Norieva first round!” I puffed, stripping out of my dress and heading for the ice bath and a rub down with a local physiotherapist Joel had contracted.

Yu, only sixteen and the youngest player at this tournament, had surprised me in the first set, beating me six three. I’d clawed my way back in the second set, ending it at six two, but it hadn’t been enough. She’d taken the match in the third set.

Joel had convinced the WTA that I would immediately walk from any press conference the second any questions relating to Steve or Pete Levine were asked. As a result, the press conference had been my favourite kind: short and sweet.

We ducked into the players’ lounge for a free meal and then we left the tournament. It was a weird feeling, but one that tennis players have to get used to. You come to a tournament and your aim is to go all the way. When you bow out after only a couple of rounds, it feels a little empty. The hardest part is taking it in your stride and moving on, preparing for the next one.

“Stink? You on another planet?” Joel asked me as we climbed into a hire car. I shook myself.

“Oh, no, just thinking about how strange it is to be so worked up to make something happen, and then it just … doesn’t.”

Joel chuckled. “You’re not the only person in the world to have felt that way, Mel.”

“Have you ever felt that way? Like, really, have you ever wanted something so badly, it aches, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t have it?” I looked over at him. He glanced at me for a moment, before pulling his sunglasses out of the breast pocket of his polo shirt and putting them on.

“Of course not. I always get what I want,” he replied. But I caught a hint of something odd in his tone, and after that he didn’t look at me for the rest of the car ride. Sometimes I just couldn’t figure him out.

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