Page 58 of Ace My Heart

It was my dreams. Sometimes I woke up, drenched in sweat with that familiar gasping for breath sensation. Other times I managed to wake up before the dream turned into a nightmare. And that was just as bad – waking up gasping and drenched in a very different way, my body throbbing, clenching around nothing.

Every time it was the same. I was in my apartment, lying on my lounge, the weight of …him … on me. His tongue in my mouth, his knees pressing my thighs apart, hands on my breasts, sliding inside my bra…

Just as things started getting really exciting, I would roll to the side and I’d see what was lying on the floor.

Sightless eyes glaring accusingly at me.

Blood.

Gaping mouth …

As if my life wasn’t complicated enough without my all too familiar nightmare taking on the added element of a hot sex dream about … him.

I knew that Joel had heard the noises that I was making in my sleep – the moans of pleasure, the sudden, hacking gasps for air. One night I had woken up and I swear he had been sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me. But I had been so out of it that I hadn’t known whether that was just a hallucination or not. He hadn’t said anything to me about it.

Living on basically no quality sleep, it was a minor miracle that I had made it to the final. But if anything, the dreams had helped me throw myself into my tennis in my waking hours. Anything to distract me from thinking about …

I was so used to the nightmare by now that the horror of it faded immediately as I woke. The sex dream though … I was constantly on a razor edge of arousal and I felt like there was nothing I could do about it.

Even surrounded by the virile masculinity of male tennis players, there was no way I would approach any of them. I could feel their smirks following me as I moved around the players’ areas. I heard the not so quiet comments about things I’d done with Pete. I might be DTF, but I wasn’t prepared to humiliate myself to get it from any of those arseholes.

Speaking of Pete, he was doing his best to avoid me.

I’d simply walked past him in the players’ dining room just the day before, and as soon as he’d spotted me, he’d excused himself from the table where he was dining with a couple of other players and his coach, and had ducked very swiftly to the men’s room. He’d still been in there when I left.

“So, Stink, I want you to be as relaxed as possible for your final,” Joel said, snapping me back to the present. He eyed me up anddown, my skin warming under his appraisal. “You definitely need to work off some tension.”

“Yes, Joel,” I muttered, trying to walk past him. He gripped my arm to stop me.

“You know what’s great for relieving tension?”

I threw him a scornful look. “Let me guess, a throbbing cock inside me?”

“Sometimes it’s like we share a brain, Stink.” Joel’s eyes went hooded and he grazed his knuckles across my lower stomach. I gritted my teeth.

Being near Joel was driving me nuts. I could still feel that spot on my neck where he’d kissed me in Dubai, as if he’d tattooed me there. Every time he touched me – even a congratulatory hug after a win – was setting me off. I was constantly over-sensitised. Brushing arms with a stranger in the supermarket would probably have me panting at this point.

I knew exactly what I needed. Joel was partially right. I needed an orgasm. Normally I had no problem getting myself off, but here, in a small apartment, with no lock on the bedroom door, and Joel who liked to walk in without knocking? That was a problem. Maybe I could take a nice ‘peaceful’ bath … behind the lockable bathroom door.

“Where are you going?” Joel asked as I ducked towards the hallway.

“Uh, just taking a bath!” I replied breezily.

Joel eyed me suspiciously. “You literally just had a shower back at the stadium,” he reminded me. “You’re not that dirty, Stink.”

I shrugged, hating that my cheeks were flaming. Joel raised an eyebrow.

“Well, sorry if a quick rinse off with my trainer watching on isn’t exactly peaceful. You just told me you wanted me to be as relaxed as possible for tomorrow,” I snapped and Joel’s lips quirked up at the corners. I was on fire. He one hundred percent knew what I was about to do.

“Fair enough. Go to town, Mel!” he said mildly, smirking. I escaped before he could make another dirty comment.

My hands shook as I ran the bath. Was I shaking with nerves, or … anticipation? I was a total deviant, because suspecting Joel knew what was happening in this room somehow made it more exciting.

Ew. But apparently not ‘ew’ enough to stop me.

I stepped into the water and sank down with a sigh, barely submerging before my hand slid down my belly and between my legs.

Jesus, I was so wet. Even in the water, I could feel how slippery I was. My finger glided over my clit, and I gasped to find it incredibly swollen and sensitive.

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