Page 41 of Risky Match
She was right—my stress is sky-high. Tomorrow I’ll play my first match at Wimbledon, the tournament where things always unravel for me. I’ve already been forced into doubles. Now I’m bracing for the next disaster.
That’s why I knew it would be tough this evening. My plan had been to eat quickly and then seclude myself in my room for the rest of the evening. That way if my nerves got the better of me, no one would know.
What I hadn’t expected was that sitting so close to Bri during dinner would put my nerves further on edge. Without seeming to try, she sends warmth through me. It started with her smile. Next it was her touch when our limbs brushed at the table and then her breath kissed my cheek when we leaned close to talk.
Between the chemistry brewing between us and my anxiety over tennis, I feared a panic attack would hit me during dinner. Luckily the food arrived, giving me something else to focus on, which helped.
Upstairs she stopped me with real concern. She saw straight through the façade and asked how she could help. No one’s shown me that kind of empathy in years.
I rake a hand through my already tousled hair, grappling with my confusion. Being near her is somehow comforting, torturous, and arousing all at once. It’s time for a shower.
Stripping off my clothes, I walk into my bathroom and turn on the shower faucet. My cock is furious with me for denying it the pleasure of a night with Bri, so I set the water to the coldest setting. Stepping under the raining streams of water droplets, I remind myself that she never actually offered to assist in that way.
When she asked how she could help me, I almost lost it. I couldn’t tell her what thoughts came to mind. I wanted to wrap her in my arms, kiss her luscious lips, and carry her to my bed to ravish her for the rest of the night. Instead, I gave her forehead a chaste kiss and walked away.
Unfortunately, the water is room temperature and does little to tame my arousal. Taking matters into my right hand, I lean forward and place my other hand against the shower wall. I close my eyes, and visions of the lovely Bri play out like a movie in my head.
She walks into my bathroom and slowly strips off her clothes. Playfully, she steps into the shower, running her index finger down my chest. I start to say something, but she puts her finger to my lips, signaling me to stay silent and let her take over. Slowly, she drops to her knees in front of me, taking me into her mouth. I almost lose it right then.
She swiftly creates a rhythm with her mouth and tongue that has me rocking back and forth, groaning with pleasure. I pull her head toward me, thrusting deeper until she takes all of me and pushes me over the edge with an intensity that causes me to shudder as I find my release.
I’m breathing heavily, and my chest is pounding. I probably shouldn’t have done that to thoughts of Bri. Now, I’m going to want her even more. Shite. Take control of yourself, man.
When my pulse rate returns to normal, I finish my shower. Toweling off, I resolve to put aside thoughts of my sexy housemate and bury myself in my standard routine for the night before matches.
Normally, I’d look forward to this time alone the night before a match. The set routine has always been calming. Tonight, I’m not so sure how well it’s going to work. But with nothing to lose, I watch videos of my opponent to make sure I remember his tendencies. That done, I make notes to read right before the match tomorrow.
Now it’s time to wind down the evening with stretches. I start with my upper body and work my way down to my legs and ankles. The stretches keep me limber and help to prevent injuries. They also allow me to enter an almost meditative state, which is a welcome sleep aid the night before an important match. And if I ever needed that type of help, it’s tonight.
When I’ve run out of muscles and tendons to stretch, I crawl under the covers and turn on my favorite playlist. I set the timer for one hour, knowing I should be in a sound sleep by the time the music turns off.
Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the familiar, hoping to drift off quickly. Something strange happens instead. An image of Bri appears, which is even more comforting than the music. What’s up with that?
If I’m not careful, I could fall for the beautiful princess.
14
BRIANNA
Ihear a door creak open, followed by footsteps on the stairs.
Blake calls out, “Josh, let’s go. I want extra time to warm up before my noon match.”
Excellent. With Blake out of the house, it gives me a chance to sneak back into his room to plant the trackers and copy the contents of his laptop.
I pull on a pair of gloves, grab my cosmetics bag with the electronics, and quietly sneak into his room. This time, I start with the walk-in closet, flipping on the light switch. I select the clothes he’s most likely to wear during his free time.
Those will be the best locations for the trackers, which are our insurance. We can already follow him using his smartphone, but these devices will work if he forgets his phone or turns it off.
It’s cool in the evenings, so I tuck a tracker into each of his two jackets assuming he’ll wear one of them if he goes out. I skip the hats because he’s prone to handing those out to fans. Instead, I plant the rest in his trousers.
Task accomplished, I turn off the closet light and sit at his desk. Opening his laptop, it wakes without a password, which is lucky for me. I insert a USB drive, which will collect data andinstall software to track keystrokes and create a hidden login account.
Just as I’m about to leave, a trophy catches my eye—likely the one his sponsor requested for the photos. Curious, I pick it up. Could someone hide a coin in this? Holding it up to the light, I turn it in my hands, inspecting it from all angles. Looking underneath, the bottom is covered with felt, and one edge lifts slightly. I peel it back and find a dark, hollow compartment.
There’s something inside. My pulse quickens. Have I found the hiding place for the coins?
Using my finger, I slide my discovery toward the opening. The corner of a piece of paper emerges. Grasping it between my thumb and forefinger, I ease it out, being careful not to tear it.
