The Summer Games: Out of Bounds (26 page)

My throat tightened, constricting my airways. I didn’t want to talk about this. I wanted to slip my grips into place and take the bars, push the rest to the side. “Maybe I just have a little more riding on this competition than other people do.”

“Tell me.”

He stepped closer, blocking my path. He looked like an immovable force, a brick house I had no hope of blowing down. I rolled my eyes and turned away.

“Why don’t you just mind your own business?” His probing was starting to piss me off. I was trying to silence my nerves, not give them a microphone. “We’re not friends. We’re nothing. So just let me finish practicing so I can go home.”

His thumb hit my chin as he tilted my head up. His blue eyes met mine and I flinched at the anger I saw there.

“You think you’re nothing? You think I wanted to leave you in that club last night?”

He sounded
pissed
.

“How would I know? It’s not like you ever talk to me. You’re impossible to read and I’m sick of trying. For the next few days, I just need to focus on gymnastics.”

His gaze flitted back and forth between my eyes, trying to burrow through to the root of my issues. I had to resist though, because digging would only leave scars. I needed us to continue to walk the tightrope for now, where we didn’t talk about life and love, just fucked when we couldn’t resist the urge any longer—anything more than that and I wouldn’t be able to walk away in a week. He’d break me completely in two.

His face tipped forward as his finger skimmed along my bottom lip.

“
Talk to me
.”

I tried to turn my head away, to regain some semblance of composure, but he wouldn’t let me. His grip was too tight on my chin and then on my waist, pulling me against his chest. My leotard and his t-shirt were the only things separating our two bodies, but it felt like nothing. I could feel every move of his muscles, every inhale and exhale as he hugged me close.

“I know for you, gymnastics has been everything for so long you feel like when it all ends, you’ll have nothing.”

I turned my head. “That’s not it.”

“I’m not finished. I know about your life back home. I can guess you think this is your one shot to pull yourself up and give your family some security. You can’t put that on your shoulders, Brie.”

I tried to jerk away. “Don’t make me out to be some kind of victim or martyr. I don’t want your pity; I just want you to help me win. Isn’t that your job?”

“
Brie
.”

He bent forward and skimmed his lips against mine, chipping away at my armor. My body arched into him, needing more. The need to be near him was a subconscious response, as necessary as breathing.

“You have to clear your head and make the decision: do you want to win for your mom, or for yourself? It’s not your job to take on her pain.”

A tear hit his thumb before I realized I’d started to cry.

It’d been years since I’d cried about this. I buried my feelings so deep down, they never saw the light of day. I focused on gymnastics and pushed the rest aside, but Erik was there, forcing me to feel them, and suddenly it was too much.

My mother had been my rock, my everything. She woke up at the crack of dawn, served others all day, and then she was there after school every day, for me. She bought all her clothes at secondhand shops or just took hand-me-downs from friends. She never dated, never went out. She was a beautiful woman and she deserved happiness, companionship, affection, but there was no time for any of that, not while she was busy allowing me to live my dream.

“I’m here,” he promised, bending low to kiss away the tears on my cheeks. “And you are too. That’s all that matters right now. During the finals, make it your intention to compete for yourself—for all the sweat you’ve spilled, the skin you’ve torn, and the muscles you’ve battered and made stronger.”

I turned to his palm and pressed my lips there, accepting his kindness.

“You don’t owe your mom anything. You can’t carry that burden. Do it for you.”

I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. When I opened them, the lights in the gym twinkled like gaudy costume jewelry through my tears, and my mother’s diamond necklace flashed into my memory. It was the one nice thing she’d held on to over the years. She’d kept it in a tiny broken jewelry box on the dresser in our bedroom. I remembered opening the top of the box as a young child, fingering the diamond hanging on the end.

“That was a present from your grandmother before she passed away,” my mother told me one time, after she’d caught me snooping. She smiled and pulled it out of the box, laying it flat across my chest. The diamond glimmered in the light and my eyes grew wide.

It was the most beautiful thing we’d ever owned and she’d hawked it at a pawn shop so she could pay overdue gymnastics fees. I’d found the jewelry box empty, and when I’d asked her about it, I’d seen a glint of sadness in her eye for the first time—but of course she never admitted she was sad to part with the necklace.

“Oh, that thing was old and silly. When would I even need to wear a thing like that? I’m not Cinderella.” She laughed as she stood in front of our stove, opening up a can of tuna fish.

My heart broke all over again, thinking of her parting with the one reminder of her old life.

“I just want to give her back everything she gave me.”

“Brie.” He bent low and gripped my neck in his hand, enveloping me in a soul-crushing hug. “You already have,” he said, trying to ease my gaze back to him. I squeezed my eyes shut and crushed my face into his chest. I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. I didn’t want to give him this piece of me, this piece I’d never given anyone before.

He didn’t fight me; he squeezed me against him and for a few moments, all I had to focus on was the steady sound of his breathing, his warm breath spilling down my neck.

He surrounded me, enveloping me in the tenderness I craved from him. He was usually so closed off, and this soft side of him was fleeting; I knew that, and I wanted to steal as much of his sweetness as I could.

I let my grips slip from my fingers and fall to the floor as my hands dragged down his back, bringing my entire body flush with his. He stilled, knowing what I was doing.

“Please,” I begged, skimming my hands down his back, feeling his muscles tense beneath his soft t-shirt. He was solid against my curves, a hard mass of tension I wanted to smooth out. His hands reached down to grip my hips, as if he were trying to anchor himself. The pads of his fingers brushed my bare upper thigh and a soft moan escaped my lips before I could contain it.

His grip tightened, branding me.

“Please,” I begged, skimming my hand down his abs. “Give me five minutes where I don’t have to think about it. Give me
this
.”

He knew the truth; he knew why tomorrow wasn’t just a competition for me, it was a lifeline for my mother and me.

I pressed up onto my tiptoes and brushed my lips across his sharp jawline. It was shaved clean and felt soft beneath my lips. I inhaled the scent of his body wash, that masculine smell that unwound me.

He kept his hands on my hips, tight and secure, not quite sure if he wanted to give in. My hand moved up, slipping beneath his t-shirt and gliding across his hard muscles. He flexed beneath my hand, trying to keep his composure. I knew I could make him crumble, make him give in to this, this thing we were so fucking good at.

My leotard was made of a dark blue velvet-blend, and every time the soft material brushed against my skin, I nearly buckled under the sensation.

“I’m begging you,” I said, drawing my lips up to his ear and biting down gently.

“
Brie
,” he said, his voice broken and dark.

“Touch me.”

I moved his hand from my hip and pushed it lower, brushing his fingers over the velvety material barring me from him. I wasn’t wearing any panties. If he wanted to, he could brush my leotard aside and slip right into me.

The moment the palm of his hand hit the center of my thighs, a low groan slipped out of his lips. In that moment, I was no longer in control. He picked me up off the floor and carried me back to the row of beams in the corner of the room. The door wasn’t locked—another gymnast or coach could walk in at any time—but the sun was setting and the competition was tomorrow. No one wanted to be in that room but us.

My back hit the beam and he lifted me up until I was sitting on the worn leather. He stepped between my legs and wound his hands up around my neck, crashing his lips to mine.

His kisses stole my breath and I tried to keep up, running my hands up his arms to balance myself on the beam, but it was no use. His mouth was on me, in me,
stealing
me. His tongue glided over mine and I tilted my hips forward to brush myself against the front of his pants.

He backed up, knowing exactly what I was doing. An inch away and suddenly I had nothing, no heat to ease the desire threatening to swallow me whole.

His lips left mine and I fluttered my eyes open to see him taking another step back, then another. He was still close enough to reach out and grab, but he was putting space between us, raking his gaze down my body. My chest rose and fell. My breasts strained against the top of my leotard as I waited for his next move. I’d put myself out there. I’d danced for him the night before and now I was baring my soul for him.

“Spread your knees,” he said, pushing his palm between my legs so I was forced to open them for him.

The velvet brushed against the inside of my thighs as I adjusted on the beam, and I bit down on my bottom lip to keep myself from whimpering.

He smirked, taking me in from his vantage point.

He ran his hand along my jaw, examining me.

“You make me crazy,” he said, his eyes on my chest and then lower, down between my legs. “You know that?”

I swallowed.

“Watching you up on that stage last night…”

He closed his eyes for a second as if replaying the memory for himself.

“Had you done that before?”

I shook my head, trying to catch my breath, but it was no use; my chest was tight, filled with dark fantasies.

He wrapped his hand around my left ankle. “This body is the only thing I dream about…the way you move for me, taunting me. Everyone in that crowd prayed they were the one you were dancing for.” His hand slid up my leg, around my knee, pushing my legs open even wider. The outsides of my knees hit the beam and I swallowed, knowing what I looked like to him. I was on display.

His sensual mouth tipped up on the right side as he stepped close and glided his fingers up the inside of my thigh to the few inches of leotard protecting me from him.

He curled his finger, brushing his knuckle against me, up and down. Up and down. It was hardly there at all. I squeezed my eyes closed and tipped my head back, trying to hang on to the tiny sparks spreading from where his knuckle brushed against me.

His other hand wound around my neck, keeping me from tipping all the way back. He pressed a line of kisses down my neck until he hit the top of my leotard.

I’d been whispering, begging for more without realizing it. He slipped a finger underneath the soft material that arced along my side and traced the path of my hip bone from front to back. After his knuckle slowly completed its course, he paused, letting the sensation build.

“Like this?” he asked, finally hooking a finger around the thin front of my leotard and pulling it to the side.

My stomach quivered and my breathy moans came out shaky and wild. There was no stopping the sensations rolling through me. He’d lit the fuse and I was so close to going up in flames. My cheeks flushed with how little he had to do, how easy it was for him to bend me to his will.

His middle finger slid inside me, bringing my wetness up around my clit, circling it until I was clenching my thighs around him, trying to steal back control. It was too much. I was going to shatter.

When his finger sunk inside me again, his lips connected with my breast beneath my leotard, using the velvet material to tease me. I squeezed my eyes closed so tight it hurt and when my fingers went numb, I realized I’d been gripping the beam beside my hips, trying to hang on for dear life.

I glanced down, taking in my white knuckles before I moved up and gripped his biceps.

“More,” I begged.

He was so hard inside his jeans. I stared down at him, nearly bursting against his zipper as he dragged his finger in and out of me possessively.

“First, I want you to come like this…” He wasn’t meeting my eye; he was staring down, watching the way my body reacted to him.

“Can you do that for me, baby?”

With the way his finger was dipping inside me, he didn’t need to ask. I could feel myself clench around him, getting so close, but I hung on, trying to extend those little bursts of pleasure that came before I fell off the edge. They were pure seduction.

“You’re so fucking tight. I know you’re close.”

He added another finger and I lost balance. He leaned me against his chest and I glanced down, watching his fingers slip in and out. He liked me watching and kept his grip around my neck so I couldn’t look away from what he was doing to my body.