Personal Foul: A Sports Office Standalone Romance Page 4

  “Sounds great! I would love to help. You can count me in.”

  “Wonderful! Sydney is helping oversee the event, so she’ll be there with you, helping get everything organized and ready, while you can spend some time getting to know some of the kids.”

  His eyes dart over to me upon hearing we’ll be working together on it. I nearly bite off my lip seeing his excitement at the idea of us leading this together. I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t looking forward to the opportunity to spend some time with him, even if I promised myself I’d avoid thinking about us being anything more.

  “Absolutely! I was involved in a couple clinics back in Chicago. I’d love to get back into it down here in Miami.”

  “Great, well, I need to head back to my office to take care of a few more things before practice starts, so I’ll leave you to sort out the details.”

  We say our goodbyes as my dad walks out the door, shutting it behind him. We both stare at the closed door for a moment before turning our attention back to each other.

  Taking a seat in front of my desk, Colson crosses one leg in front of the other, his hands folded in his lap. My eyes take in his suntanned skin, looking bronzed from the Miami summer sun to the tattoos wrapped around his arm, flexing as if he’s attempting to hold himself back.

  Reminding myself I’m at work and to keep it professional, I say, “All right, well, I guess since we live so close to each other, it makes sense for us to ride down there together. I’ll have everything loaded up in my car the night before to bring to the event. The gym there will have all the equipment we need, and we can use their carts to load everything in.”

  My face warms as his eyes stare into me, meeting my eyes before traveling down to my lips. He did this last night, staring at my mouth, taunting me by making me question and wonder what he could possibly be thinking.

  “Is that everything?”

  His face doesn’t change, continuing to stay expressionless while I pause, waiting for him to clue me in to how he’s feeling.

  “I think so. Do you have any questions?”

  “Nope,” he says, popping the last part of the word.

  “Great…” I trail off. I’m waiting for him to get up and exit my office, leaving me in a pool of my own desire when he goes.

  My tongue darts out, unintentionally dragging it over my lips, trying to bring some moisture to my skin. Feeling like he’s stolen my breath away, I’m left in a daze.

  I realize then the error of my move, or maybe it was a point for me, depending on how you look at it, when a deep growl escapes his throat.

  “Colson…” I say, trailing off again.

  “Sydney, why do you constantly tempt me?”

  My heart stutters, forcing heavy breaths to heave from my chest, rising and falling with every inhale and exhale.

  I don’t know what to say, I don’t dare move, as I lean back against the tall back of my chair. His eyes grow hooded, my hands curl into fists clenching the arms of my chair.

  “Wha-what do you mean?”

  “I told you last night at the bar how badly I wanted to kiss you. I understand you want to keep this professional and how our jobs can interfere if this went south, but you can’t look at me the way you do while licking those delicious lips and expect me not to want a taste.”

  I drag my lower lip into my mouth, biting down on it at the mere mention of him tasting me. My mind shifts to all the ways he could use his mouth and all the places he could taste me. I picture my fingers gripping his dark hair, wanting to touch him, and urge him on.

  He must sense where my thoughts have diverted as another groan emits throughout the small space. This time, it forces him to his feet, circling my desk until he’s standing over me.

  “Is that what you want? You want me to taste you?”

  I have nowhere else I can go as he pulls my hands away from my armrests, bending down to grip them himself. His forehead is nearly pressed against mine. My gaze bounces over his face, waiting for him to give in and kiss me.

  I’m going out of my mind with how badly I want him, and judging by the smirk on his face now, he must know my resistance is starting to wear thin.

  “I told you, if I kiss you again, all bets are off.”

  His eyes stare at my neck, trailing down to where my chest heaves before a string of curse words fly out of his mouth. It’s low, only a quiet mumble left for me to hear, but it rings clear how tied up we both are over how bad we want this.

  I clamp my legs together, forcing some friction to ease my growing arousal. My eyes break away from his to see what has captured his attention, finding my nipples beading beneath the thin material of my chiffon dress.

  There’s no denying my reaction to being near him or how turned on he makes me from his words alone.

  Glancing back up at him reveals his intensity, his eyes hooded, his jaw tense. We are both riding the edge of giving in. One step in either direction will make or break this between us.

  “Are you picturing me on my knees in front of you, in your office, tasting you?”

  He leans in further, pressing his cheek against mine. His breath feathers over my ear, and I tilt my head to the side, not knowing what he’s about to do but giving him better access to my neck.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Sydney,” he sighs, “and so damn sexy.”

  My hands reach out, holding onto his wrists, which are now planted on the arms of the chair. This move drives him forward as he leans in closer, pressing a soft kiss against the base of my neck, below my ear.

  “You have no idea how much I want you, how badly I need to feel you wrapped around me.”

  My hands squeeze his wrists even tighter. A small thought in the back of my mind smolders on how all of this is my fault. We are both being held back by my fears, and if I let them go, he would give in to me. Yet, here we are, sitting in my office one second away from someone walking through the door, and we haven’t even done anything to be exposed.

  Yet, anyone would be able to detect how badly I want him.

  “Colson…” I say, ready to give in. Ready to tell him to kiss me, to take me right here because I don’t give a shit anymore.

  I’m not sure what he thinks he hears in my voice, as he presses another kiss against my neck, feathering a warm breath over my wet skin before pulling back. Only this time, he stands up, my hands release his hold when he steps back, leaving me with an ache of missing him.

  “I’m in no hurry, Sydney. I’ll have you all alone again soon, and I have no problem waiting until you’re ready.”

  He flashes me his signature smirk as he turns and walks across my office. When he reaches for the door handle, he peers over his shoulder and says, “See you on Thursday.”

  Chapter Six

  Rush

  The next few days after I stopped by Sydney’s office went by quickly. With our first preseason game only days away, our practice schedule has kept me busy. Leaving the gym Wednesday afternoon filled me with a renewed energy and excitement, knowing tomorrow we have a short practice in the morning, then I’ll be with Sydney for the rest of the afternoon.

  I remembered Coach said Sydney would be working from home in the morning, so we made plans to meet at our apartment and drive to the clinic together.

  Every time I pass by her door, I’ve contemplated stopping to see her. The desire I saw burning in her green irises was all I could think of when I was alone.

  We’ve only known each other for a short time, so if she wants to take this slow, we can. I’ll move at whatever pace she is comfortable with, but I still can’t deny how badly I want her when she is around. Even though she tries to say otherwise, she doesn’t do a good job of hiding how she is feeling this, too.

  The night we went for dinner at Ireland’s Pub, I remember her telling me how she preferred her coffee. She takes hers with a douse of creamer, making it extra sweet, whereas I like mine black.

  Clutching the to-go cups of coffee in my hands, I contemplate how I can
adjust my grip on each cup to knock when the knob turns, and she opens her door in greeting.

  “Hey,” I greet, surprised. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Just an instinct, I guess.”

  My eyes narrow at her. “You were watching through the peephole, weren’t you?”

  She bites down on her lower lip, knowing I caught her as she gives in and nods her head.

  Giving her an out, I change the subject and hold out her sugary drink. “I got you this. Thought we could both use some energy before spending the next few hours with seventy-five kids.”

  “Good point. Thank you.” She giggles when our fingers touch as she takes the cup from my hand. Her throat bobs as she swallows, her gaze shifting from mine.

  “Are you ready? Do you need help carrying anything?”

  She’s dressed in black running shorts, a Community Cares shirt, and black sneakers. Her hair is pulled up in one of those high bun things girls like to wear, with strands of her soft, red hair framing her face.

  She pulls the strap of her purse over her head, adjusting it over her body to sit on her hip.

  “Nope, everything is loaded up and ready to roll.”

  “How’s your knee been feeling? Looks like it’s starting to heal up now.” Her knee is free from any bandages. The wound is starting to scab over, and the bruise is fading into yellow.

  “A lot better, thank you. It was sore the first couple days, but it’s been much better since.”

  We take the elevator down to the parking garage. She hits the lock on her all-black BMW M4. I wouldn’t have expected to see her driving a sports car, but as I’m peeling back each layer of Sydney, I still find myself pleasantly surprised by the woman underneath.

  The entire drive to the community center, I’m itching to pick up where we left off in her office despite knowing there’s no time for that right now. Not to mention, I can’t be distracted by her. I need to be on my A-game, giving the kids one hundred and ten percent of my attention.

  They weren’t lying when they told us how many kids were going to be here. I’m glad they called in reinforcements when I see a couple of the coaches and the community center director here to help us run the event.

  The kids form a line around the outside of the gym, and we ensure everyone has a T-shirt with their nametag on. Once each of them is situated, we get everyone together in a big group.

  Sydney ran through our plans before we got here, giving me time to talk with the kids when we got started, going through a few brief talking points to cover. I’ve done this before; I’m used to being where these kids are. Growing up poor meant there were times when my mom didn’t know where she’d be getting our next meal from or if she’d have the extra money for my school supplies.

  I knew what helping with these necessities meant and how much of a relief it would be to ease this burden on their parents.

  “Hey, everyone, how’s it going today?”

  Their cheers ring throughout the gym.

  “Is that all you got? I said…how’s it going today? Are you excited to be here or what?”

  This time, their cheers grow deafening as they scream and stomp their little feet on the gym floor.

  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! That’s the energy and enthusiasm I like to see and hear. Thank you for coming out to Community Cares today with the Miami Blaze. I’m new to town, but you may know me from my time playing in Chicago. I’m Colson Rush. I play shooting guard for the Miami Blaze. I’m excited to be here to get you ready to head back to school and play a little basketball today.

  “Before we hit the hoops, I want to share a little about myself and how I got involved in basketball. When I was your age, I didn’t always have it easy. My mom raised me and my brother, Caleb, on her own. We didn’t always know where our next meal was going to come from or if she’d have enough money to buy us new shoes for school.

  “We didn’t grow up having nice things. My basketball shoes were often handed down to me from my brother. There were times when we didn’t get to celebrate holidays or birthdays with presents, but you know what it taught me? It taught me to be thankful for what I did have, and one of those things was basketball.

  “I started playing when I was six years old. My mom enrolled me in a program down at our local community center, like this one. I’m so glad she did because as I grew up, things changed for our family, and life got hard. Basketball was always my one true constant. Nothing mattered to me when I was out on the court with my ball and the hoop. It gave me a distraction, something to focus on when I needed it, and the passion I had for the sport fueled my drive to want to do well when I went on to high school and into college, bringing me to where I am now.

  “I want each of you to walk out of here today and remember to find your own passion, what drives you to what you do, and be your best, and then I want you to go after it. Chase your dreams and don’t let anything stop you.”

  My eyes find Sydney’s toward the back of the gym, blinking through the emotion evident on her face. She blinks through the tears, smiling back at me as she begins clapping. The rest of the volunteers join in, and the kids follow suit.

  “Thank you, thank you. I appreciate you all having me. What do you say? I think it’s time for us to play some basketball. We’re going to start by dividing each of you into groups of five. We’ll work on some ball-handling, practice shooting some hoops, then do some drills to get you moving.”

  Sydney makes her way to me through the crowd as the kids begin shuffling into their groups. It is easy enough. Sydney planned ahead and had their nametags grouped by color, making it straightforward to determine who is in each group.

  “Your speech was excellent. It was perfect.” She smiles, holding her hand up to give me a high-five.

  I chuckle, glancing around the gym to the kids nearby, gauging if any are within earshot.

  “I’m glad you were impressed.” I wink, keeping it PG, clapping her hand.

  The rest of the afternoon is filled with ball-handling practice, working on their shooting form, and running different plays with each group.

  Each of the kids takes the time to show me different skills they’ve been working on, and I’m impressed by how open they are to learn and genuinely encourage each other.

  “Hey, Mr. Rush. Can I talk to you for a second?” Isaac, one of the boys, asks. I noticed him earlier on when we were running through the dribbling. If I had to guess, he is probably around eight or nine years old. Something about him reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age. He has a shy and quiet side to him, but you can tell he puts a lot of his energy and drive into playing ball.

  “You can call me Rush, buddy. What’s up?”

  “You’re one of my favorite players,” he says bashfully. His eyes glance away, trying to muster up the courage to say what he wants to say. “I’ve been watching you since you started in Chicago. Do you remember the play you made against San Antonio when you did a pass fake and Balstead fell on the ground, scoring the three-pointer to win the game?”

  I’m amazed he knows this much about me or even remembered the game at such a young age. That was my first season in Chicago three years ago, but still one of the highlights of my career. We were able to tie the game, putting us into overtime after being down seventeen points at the half. It was a huge game for me, especially since we were able to get the win.

  “You bet I remember that play. It was one of the biggest plays of my career.”

  “You were so awesome,” he boasts, excitement evident in his voice. “You wouldn’t mind watching me run through the play, would you, and giving me some pointers? I’ve watched it so many times, I think I can do it, but I want to see what you think.”

  “Go for it.” Clapping my hands, I crouch down at his level, getting into a defensive position.

  He dribbles the ball, letting out a deep breath as he flashes me a nervous smile.

  “You got this. Give it to me.”

  He nods, his face t
urning serious. He dribbles the ball a few times, crossing between his legs, then back again. He’s smooth in his transitions, never letting his eyes give away his next move.

  He turns his shoulder to me as he keeps looking past me, surveying the court as he fakes to the right. Seeing as he’s right-handed, I expect it as my body shifts to follow him.

  He’s quick because as soon as he sees he’s got me, he rocks to the left, giving him time and space to dribble past me or, if he’s lucky, get the shot off at the last second.

  “Dang, kid. You definitely got handles. I’ll be seeing you in the league in a few years.” I grin, holding up my hand for a high-five.

  Seeing the look of pride beaming on his face is what makes doing these events all worth it.

  Chapter Seven

  Sydney

  Once all the kids have been picked up, we take care of cleaning up and putting away the basketball equipment. We are lucky to have a few custodians offer to give us a hand, which makes short work of the task.

  My eyes keep finding their way back to Colson, staring at the thick cords of his muscles every time his forearms flex. A few of my glances found him looking back at me. It’s hard not to reflect on how he was with the kids today. If I didn’t know him already, having learned about the career he’s made for himself in the league, I’d be confident in saying he missed his calling as a coach. The kids gravitated toward him, hanging on to his every word.

  My mind replays how Colson was able to genuinely connect with the kids and the way Isaac’s eyes studied his every move when he ran through drills, working through their dribbling techniques, and helping them perfect their shooting. I’ve never seen a more well-behaved group of kids, and it had everything to do with who Colson was and how important he made each of them feel.