Lady and the Champ(2)

By: Katherine Lace



He’s an important client. Don’t tell him to shut up. “I prefer Chloe.”

“So we’re on a first name basis already?”

I know he’s enjoying baiting me, and I’m an idiot for letting him get to me.

Not going to work, buddy. “What makes you say that?”

“The fact that I’m naked and you’re lubing me up.”

Oh my God. He did not just say that. “Mr. Sherwood.”

His grin widens. “I thought we were past the formalities?”

Blood roars in my ears. “Mr. Sherwood, I am your physical therapist. If you can’t behave like a professional, I’ll leave and one of the men will finish you.”

Finish you.

My cheeks blaze as a wicked smile spreads across his face. “I’m not even touching that one.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I totally could, but I won’t. Because I’m a gentleman.”

I highly doubt you’re a gentleman. “Could you please just turn back around?”

“Relax, Doc. It was just a joke.”

“I’m not a doctor.”

This guy has about as many brain cells as a goldfish. I thought having the TV on would help him shut up, but of course the predictable idiot demanded for ESPN. Austin wheels his head around as the game comes back on from commercial, ignoring me completely to stare at the football field.

“Oh my God!”

I draw my hands back yet again as his torso lurches under them. This is ridiculous. I’m never going to get him properly worked over if he keeps doing this.

“He had a hole there but they closed it up before he could fully penetrate.”

I shake my head a little. It reminds me of something I saw online once: “Porn Dialogue or Football Commentary?” How oblivious are these announcers to not hear the words coming out of their mouths? Maybe one too many concussions has left them not realizing how frequently they talk about players giving each other hard blows.

“Get the fucking ball!” he roars at the television.

“You know they can’t hear you, right?”

He ignores me completely, jerking violently at the announcer’s voice. “Look at him go! Tom really loves those tight-ends.”

“Seriously, Austin,” I say, wiggling my hands to get some of the stiffness out of my fingers. “Can we just turn the TV off?”

He’s on his stomach at the moment, and instead of having his head down on the massage table, he’s got his chin propped up on his elbows and he’s watching the football game playing on the TV on the wall. The posture puts a beautiful arch in his back, which curves into the round rise of his ass under the blanket. I could slap that ass, see if that catches his attention and gets him to hold still. The thought makes my face hot. The palm of my hand tingles as I try to squeeze a knot out of his shoulder.

“I’ve got to watch this. It’s an important game.”

I bite my lip to keep from screaming. “No, actually, you don’t got to watch this. It’s called TIVO.”

He throws me a scandalized look. “I’m not watching a recorded game. It’s bad luck.”

“Bad luck?” I say in a high voice, completely dropping my professional tone. “How is it bad luck if it already—you know what? Never mind.”

Football players and their silly superstitions. I can tell that he’ll probably have a tantrum if I turn the TV off, and unfortunately he’s a pretty important client so I can’t piss him off.

Several quiet moments pass while he just stares at the screen. “I’m not trying to make you angry. I just can’t stop watching the game.”

I roll my eyes behind his head.

“Then you need to hold the hell still. I can’t give you a proper massage when you’re moving around.”

“Then maybe you should just give me an improper massage.”

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even realize what he said. Then his eyes narrow and a smirk starts to lift the corner of his mouth. Before I can find out what kind of joke he makes when he’s not doing it by accident, a roar erupts from the television.

He jerks around to face the TV. Somebody made a touchdown, apparently. Austin shoots both hands up in the air and makes a whooping noise, so I have to assume the right team scored. “Yes!” he shouts, confirming my assumption.

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