The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Zac kept his arms around her for several seconds.

"I missed you so much," he said.

Roxie pressed her face against his chest and sniffed. "You have a terrible way of showing it."

"I know."

She pulled back and frowned at him.

Zac caught himself. "I’m trying to stop saying that."

"Good."

His eyes moved toward the college folder on the table.

Roxie waited for him to say something.

He looked away.

"Did you eat?" he asked.

"I had something during my break."

"That means you barely ate."

"It still counts."

"What did you have?"

Roxie thought about it. "Some fries."

Zac removed his jacket. "Sit down."

She watched him walk into the kitchen.

"You’re cooking now?"

"You worked all evening."

"So did Ethan."

Zac stopped beside the refrigerator.

Roxie almost apologized.

He opened the door instead.

"That promise lasted five minutes."

"I wasn’t trying to make you jealous."

"You brought him up while I was trying to feed you."

"I was making a point."

"What point?"

Roxie had no idea.

Zac looked at her over the refrigerator door.

She raised both hands. "Fine. I’ll stop."

He found the last three eggs and several slices of bread. Roxie sat at the table while he moved around the kitchen.

The folder stayed near her elbow.

Zac never touched it.

He cracked the eggs into a bowl while butter hissed inside the pan.

Roxie watched his shoulders beneath his shirt.

"You really weren’t with anyone?"

Zac looked back at her. "No."

She had already asked him outside, but hearing the answer while he stood in her kitchen felt different. The fight had made every word sound defensive. Now she wanted to hear him say it again while everything between them was quieter.

"Did anybody try?"

"Yes."

Roxie’s mouth tightened.

"I told them I had a girlfriend."

"How many girls?"

"I don’t know."

"That many?"

"One girl."

"You said them."

"She had a friend."

"Did the friend try too?"

"She stood there."

"That counts."

Zac returned to the stove. "You’re impossible."

"You like me."

"Unfortunately."

Roxie kicked the leg of his jeans when he passed her.

He caught her ankle.

"Careful."

"Or what?"

His hand remained around her ankle for a moment before he released it.

The movement was gentle.

Roxie noticed.

He placed eggs and toast in front of her, then sat across the table.

She looked at the empty space beside her.

"Why are you over there again?"

Zac stared at her.

Roxie pointed toward the chair beside her.

He carried his plate around the table and sat where she wanted him.

Their knees touched beneath the table.

Roxie ate while Zac watched to make sure she finished most of the food.

Afterward, he washed the plates before she could stand.

Roxie went into the bedroom and pulled on one of Zac’s old football shirts with a pair of soft shorts. He had left the shirt at the bungalow days ago, and Roxie had started wearing it more often than her own sleep shirts.

When she returned, Zac had changed too.

His jeans and shirt were folded over the arm of the couch. He wore gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt from the duffel he kept near her bathroom.

Roxie sat on the couch and tucked her legs beneath her.

Zac lowered himself near her feet.

"What are you doing?"

"Give me your leg."

"Why?"

"You had practice, then worked all evening. I know your feet hurt."

Zac caught her ankle and pulled her foot into his lap.

Roxie started to protest, but his thumbs pressed into the center of her foot.

Her head fell against the couch.

"That feels good."

"I know."

She lifted her head.

"Sorry," he said.

Roxie smiled despite herself.

She had missed this.

She had missed sitting close enough to bother him. She had missed his stupid comments, the way he cooked without being asked, and the way his hands always found something to do when he cared about her.

The entire weekend had felt like waiting for something to end.

Now Zac was sitting beside her again.

She wanted to keep him there long enough that the fight stopped feeling important.

Zac worked his thumbs along her arch. His hands stayed careful, as though pressing too hard anywhere might remind them both of her wrist.

"Harder," she said.

His thumbs pressed deeper.

"Is that better?"

"Yeah."

He moved toward her heel, then slowly worked his hands up her calf.

Roxie stretched her other leg across his lap.

"You’re taking advantage now."

"You have two hands."

"I only offered one foot."

"You didn’t offer anything."

Zac shook his head but began massaging the other one.

Roxie relaxed against the cushions.

The television played quietly across the room, though she barely followed what was happening. She preferred watching Zac’s hands move over her leg.

The college folder remained on the table.

Zac glanced at it once.

His hands continued working along her calf.

He said nothing.

Roxie decided to treat his silence as permission to leave it alone.

They had spent enough time fighting. The folder would still be there tomorrow. Tennessee would still exist tomorrow.

Tonight, she wanted Zac close.

His palms moved higher, pressing into the sore muscles below her knee.

Roxie shifted until the back of her heel brushed the front of his sweatpants.

Zac’s hands stopped.

Roxie looked down.

The soft gray fabric hid almost nothing. He was already hard, thick beneath the material and pointing downward along one thigh. The outline reached halfway toward his knee.

Her mouth curved.

"You’re serious?"

"What?"

"You were rubbing my feet."

"I can’t control it."

"You’re always hard around me."

Zac caught her ankle before she could press against him again.

"You’re sitting there in my shirt with your legs in my lap."

"You’ve seen me wearing less."

"That makes it worse."

Roxie studied the shape beneath his sweatpants.

It looked larger without stiff denim holding it close. The fabric stretched around the thickest part, and the head formed a clear ridge farther down his thigh.

She had felt him through his jeans before. Seeing the full outline made him look almost obscene.

It also sent a small rush of satisfaction through her.

Zac had spent the weekend pulling away from her, but his body still reacted before he could hide it.

He still wanted her.

"That cannot be comfortable," she said.

"It wasn’t until you started staring."

"I’m checking."

"Checking what?"

"How you fit that inside your jeans."

Zac’s ears turned red. "Roxie."

"What? It looks huge."

"You already knew that."

"I felt it through jeans. This is different."

She pressed her heel lightly against him.

Zac’s breath caught.

Roxie lifted her eyebrows. "Sensitive?"

"Quit."

She moved her heel again.

His head fell against the back of the couch. A low sound left him as the shape twitched beneath her foot.

Roxie smiled.

"That moved."

"Yes. That happens."

"It almost kicked me back."

"Very funny."

She slid her foot lower, following his length through the sweatpants.

Zac’s fingers closed around her ankle.

He loosened them almost immediately.

"Roxie."

She noticed the way he checked his grip.

The carefulness should have reminded her why he was afraid.

Instead, it made her want to keep teasing him until the fear disappeared from his face.

She wanted them laughing again.

She wanted tonight to feel ordinary.

Roxie used her big toe to press against the thicker ridge near the head.

Zac groaned and shut his eyes.

"That one?"

"Stop asking questions you already know the answer to."

"I’m learning."

"You’re trying to make me come."

"I’m using my foot."

"That still counts."

Roxie pressed again.

His hips lifted slightly from the couch before he forced them down.

A small damp spot appeared on the gray fabric beneath her toe.

Roxie blinked.

"Did you come?"

"No."

"Then what is that?"

Zac opened his eyes and looked down.

"Pre-cum."

"That much?"

"It isn’t that much."

"It went through your pants."

"They’re thin."

Roxie moved her toe over the damp spot.

Zac caught her foot with both hands.

"Quit."

"You were the one touching me."

"I was massaging your leg."

"That sounds innocent when you say it like that."

"It was innocent before you started rubbing my dick with your foot."

Roxie laughed.

"You said it."

"You know what you’re touching."

She rubbed the side of her foot slowly over his full length again.

Zac leaned against the couch and tightened his jaw. The outline shifted beneath the fabric as she moved.

"You better stop."

"Why?"

"Because I’m not coming in another pair of pants."

Roxie laughed harder.

"You’ve already done that?"

He stared at her.

She covered her mouth. "Right. I forgot."

"You didn’t forget."

"I was trying to protect your feelings."

"You laughed at me last time."

"I was impressed."

"You stared at the stain."

"It was a large stain."

Zac caught her foot and placed it on the cushion beside him.

"You ruin everything."

"I fixed your problem before."

"You made the problem."

Roxie looked toward the front of his sweatpants.

The thick shape remained obvious, and the small dark spot was still visible near the head.

She loved seeing him embarrassed.

It was easier than watching guilt take over his face. It was easier than wondering whether he would start thinking about her wrist and decide he needed distance again.

"You should’ve used that magazine in your room before coming here," she said.

Zac’s ears became redder. "Drop it."

"Did you use it?"

Zac reached over and tugged lightly at the hair near the back of her neck until she looked at him.

"I didn’t need it."

"No?"

"Your smile was enough."

Roxie stared at him.

Zac grinned.

"That was disgusting."

"It worked."

"It killed everything."

She planted her foot against his stomach and kicked.

Zac folded forward with a rough sound.

Roxie pulled her leg back.

"Why would you kick me that hard?"

"That line deserved it."

"You nearly broke a rib."

"You play football."

"Season’s over. I’m a fragile little boy now."

He remained bent over with one arm across his stomach.

Roxie started laughing.

She had missed that too.

She had missed laughing until her stomach hurt while Zac acted offended. She had missed having him close enough to kick, touch, and tease without wondering whether he would disappear afterward.

The outline beneath his sweatpants had already begun to soften.

She pointed toward it.

"That fixed your problem."

Zac looked down, then back at her.

"You’re proud of yourself?"

"A little."

He caught both her ankles and tugged her down the couch.

Roxie yelped when her back hit the cushions.

Zac stopped before climbing over her.

His hands remained around her ankles.

The joking disappeared from his face.

Roxie saw him remember her wrist.

He released her immediately.

"I said I wouldn’t grab you like that again."

"You didn’t."

"I grabbed you."

"I was laughing. I wasn’t trying to get away."

Zac watched her for several seconds.

"That was different," Roxie said.

He nodded, but he moved toward the other end of the couch anyway.

The distance returned.

Roxie hated how quickly she noticed it.

Minutes earlier, she had felt warm and relaxed. Now the empty cushion between them brought back the entire weekend.

She crawled toward him and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I kicked you. You pulled me."

"That doesn’t make everything equal."

"I know."

Zac looked at her.

She smiled slightly. "Now I’m doing it."

His mouth moved, though the smile never fully appeared.

Roxie took his hand and placed it on her bare thigh.

"You can touch me."

His fingers stayed still.

"I want you to," she added.

Zac slowly moved his hand along her leg.

The touch remained careful.

Roxie leaned closer until her cheek rested against his chest. His heartbeat remained steady beneath her ear.

She wanted to stay there.

She wanted the food, the massage, and the stupid jokes to become the part of the night they remembered. She wanted the fight pushed far enough away that neither of them needed to look at it again.

Zac kissed the top of her head.

The college folder stayed closed on the table.

Neither of them mentioned Tennessee again.

By the time they went to bed, the fight felt farther away.

Nothing had changed.

It only felt easier while Zac held her.