Page 67 of Player
I turn my attention back to him, not quite understanding what he's getting at. His fingers press mine a little harder andI swallow. I finally respond in a low voice, "What are you playing at?"
He doesn't take his eyes off me, and I can feel myself blushing. Thank goodness Pia is just drawing our hands, because I'm afraid of what her sketch might reveal about me right now.
"I want you, Dixie."
Player spoke so quietly that I could almost believe I dreamed it, if I didn't see that familiar gleam in his eyes.
A fiery heat spreads through my stomach, rising through my body, awakening each of my cells as it passes. How far can we go in this physical relationship without feelings interfering?
"If we were alone," he continues, "you'd already be naked on this couch."
The way he whispers indecent proposals electrifies me. Maybe I should remain stone-faced, and that's what I strive to do, but my body reacts anyway. I shiver imagining what we could do together, memories of our lovemaking resurfacing as if to add more weight to Player's words.
He has a little smirk that makes me want to both move away from him and jump on him. My ambivalence toward Player tends to fade because I'm fighting less and less against this extraordinary attraction pulling us toward each other. And somehow, it's easier that way.
"I'm good," Pia announces.
I don't know how much time has passed. Maybe a few minutes? Maybe half an hour? Impossible to say.
Player recovers faster than I do, he lets go of my hand and jumps to his feet. He doesn't even give me a glance before leaving the living room. I watch him disappear into his bedroom, desire coursing through my body.
Come on, you have more dignity than that!
I shake myself mentally. I'm not going to follow him to his room! That's out of the question.
"Thanks for your help, Dixie."
I turn my attention to Pia, who's putting away her sketchbook.
"You're welcome," I breathe in a husky voice.
"I'm sure I have everything I need for my sculpture. It's going to be beautiful, you'll see!"
"I don't doubt it."
When I return to my room, the desire I feel for Player hasn't completely subsided. I lean against the door and close my eyes, trying to regain my composure.
Suddenly, I feel the need to call my brother. I grab my phone and make the call. The ringtones play, but he doesn't answer. I hang up with a sigh.
I drop onto my bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, body tense and mind confused. Will I ever be able to rid myself of this carnal desire for this quarterback of the Jaguars?
What if it's not just physical?
This idea haunts me more and more often, but like every other time, I chase it from my mind. No need to complicate the situation even more.
My phone rings, making me jump. It's my brother! I answer quickly, "Hey, Bradley!"
"Is everything okay, Dixie?"
I realize that I called him in the middle of the day, which isn't like me.
"Yes, yes!" I reassure him. "I just wanted to talk to you. How are you?"
"Good. We just got back to base."
He lets out a slight sigh that doesn't escape me. I wonder what his life in the military is like. I know he only tells me what he wants to, and that it's not necessarily a reflection of his daily reality. According to him, everything is fine, but what's the truth?
"Do you have leave?" I ask, voice full of hope.
