Page 21 of Challenge
Seemingly soothed enough to bid me farewell, he strides away without looking back. I turn and push open Cam’s door, bracing myself for the hotness of this particular footballer, only to find an empty bed with an empty knee brace resting upon it.
Frowning, I see the light on in the attached toilet and hear water running. “Cam—Mr. Harris?” I call out, pushing the door open slightly. “Are you in here?”
When there’s no reply, I take a tentative step in and eye the walk-in shower. The white curtain is drawn and steam is billowing out from the top. “Cam?” I call out again a bit louder. Still nothing. Feeling suddenly nervous by his lack of response, my emergency training takes over and I yank back the curtain. I find him sitting on the floor with his back against the tiled wall as water cascades down over him.
“Camden, what happened? Are you all right?” I ask, squatting down beside him and checking for a pulse on his wrist. His head is dropped and he’s hunched over but I feel a steady beat. I pull my flashlight out of my pocket to check his pupils. His eyes are pinched shut and when I attempt to pry one open, he startles with a jump. The sudden jolt sends me flying backwards onto my rear and right under the heavy stream.
“Cam!” I screech, scrambling my way out of the water as my soaked scrubs cling to my body in a matter of seconds.
“Fuck, Indie!” he exclaims as he grabs hold of my wrist and yanks me toward him and out of the water.
It’s then that I find myself unceremoniously draped over a completely naked and completely rock-hard professional footballer. “You’re naked,” I croak, pushing myself off his wet chest. I’m childishly grateful that his legs are bent enough to conceal his manhood so I’m not completely scandalised.
“One usually is inside the shower.” His wet face has the nerve to look confused as he squints at me through the steam. Realising I’m staring, I quickly stand up and turn my back to him, but it wasn’t until after I caught sight of his…well, to give it the technical term…penis.
“Are you all right?” I ask with a shaky voice.
“Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were unresponsive!” I reply in challenge.
He sighs heavily. Clearly agitated, he asks, “What are you doing in here, Indie?”
“I came in to check on you and found you passed out in the shower!” I gesticulate wildly as I find his face in the reflection of the mirror. He’s scowling at me while his eyes trail down my back. Why do I have to explain myself? He’s the one who shoved me into the water. “I thought you were having a seizure or something.”
“I was fine. I was just sleeping.” His voice drips with annoyance.
“You were sleeping in the shower?” I stare ahead in disbelief.
“Yeah, I’ve done it before. It’s not that hard. And after having my family up my arse all day, I’m exhausted.”
“Oh,” I say in an exhale as reality tumbles in around me. He was sleeping. Not in the most conventional of places, but still. He’s a grown man and I just swooped in and…God, I’m an arse. And now I’m also drenched.
My eyes flicker down over my shoulder to find his are still lingering on my backside. Despite his annoyed tone, his expression is one of amusement.
“If you laugh, I’m kicking you in your bad knee,” I snap, grabbing a hand towel and wiping down my glasses before putting them back on my face.
He chuckles and says, “Oh God, don’t. I’m not sure how I’m going to stand up from here as it is.”
I roll my eyes and turn to cut the shower off without looking down at him. I toss a towel over my shoulder. “Come on now, let me help.” I turn and hold my hand out to him. “And I hope you feel properly emasculated after this.”
He grips the towel against his abs to conceal himself and slips his other hand in mine. Using me for balance more than strength, he stands up, putting all his weight on his good leg. His towel slips off as he steadies himself against the wall.
My eyes shoot up to the ceiling, but now that we’re standing only inches apart, I can feel him watching me. “Mind grabbing that for me and finding out just how emasculated I am?”
My face screws up in disgust. “Your sister is right. You are a pig.” I grab him a fresh towel from the non-penis-level towel bar before getting one for myself. I begin dabbing at my soaked clothes and hair. “This is useless. I’m soaked all the way through.”
“Best just take them off.” He squints at me while tightening his towel around his waist. Seriously. Washboard abs are a real thing apparently. “Are you wearing white under there?” he asks. “White and wet are almost as fun of a combination as oil and water.”
I roll my eyes at his blatant come-on. “I can’t leave here like this. I’m not even supposed to be working right now. My shift is over. This looks so bad.”
“Just wrap yourself in this towel and I’ll find you something to wear.” He pierces me with a blatant challenge as he holds a towel out to me. “Or are you too shy?”
His expression is knowing, as if he’s certain there’s no way I’ll strip down in front of him. Because of that, some dark place inside of me wakes up. I want to wipe that smirk off his face and prove I’m not some innocent, naïve little girl he can predict.
I tuck his towel under my arm, turn on my heel, and sludge my soggy feet across his room. Then I click the lock on his door. When I turn back, he’s limping into the room toward his bed. He quirks a brow at the sound of the lock.
Without hesitating, I peel my scrub top off over my head. His eyes drift down to my wet, white cotton bra, and the flicker in his gaze makes my insides clench. It feels so wrong but so right at the same time. He licks his lips as I take my time wrapping the towel around my chest, enjoying the feel of his heated eyes on me. The lust crackling in the air between us is intense and—
