KICK IT | JENLISA

38

Jennie

Lisa in a tank top and dripping with water was too much. Lisa in a tank top and dripping with water offered no subtlety of how big a gun she packed. Potentially catastrophic. Despite my mind not wanting to go there, other parts of me pulsed with interest.

If she wasn't so close, I would've assumed her torso was air-brushed. She was a visual overload of lean muscles, all broad pecs, lumps upon lumps of abs, and sculpted arms with veins trailing down them. Her waist held a slight inward curve, but she was rigid otherwise. Not a pinch of fat, annoyingly.

My smile was as shaky as the ground during a Texas twister. Goosebumps sprung up all over my skin from her proximity. The smell of paint aside, her soap and laundry detergent scent was fresh and clean.

I hadn't seen anyone's body after Taehyung left, sparking dormant parts of my body to life. My heart pounded, and warmth gathered in my belly. Pulsing beats nestled between my legs, filling my barren lady bits with need. Thank fuck her hose water was cold. Sparks ignited where her fingers trailed up my back and swept over my cheek. I was not prepared for the gentle caress of those long, and thick fingers.

The elephant dick-sized erection she sported needed shrinkage, so I delivered a much-needed retaliation blast to her face. It backfired when trickles of clear streams dribbled down her chest and abs. I lost count after eight and a half. Two halves. Nine? Fuck, I was thankful she soaked me with water before my vagina drooled and my palms sweated.

Lisa wrapped me up in a towel. Kinda. She threw it in my face. I blotted my exposed skin dry, then retrieved my extra clothes bag from my truck. A loose T-shirt and leggings were better than my beach volleyball impression bra and underwear. Her house though? "It's smaller than I expected." I blurted out, scanning the modestly large interior.

Grumbles rang out behind me. Lisa dragged her towel over her face, muffling her cryptic, curse-included phrases with an empty, 'Don't make me prove you wrong.'

"As good as a bruised ego looks on you, I didn't mean that." Stepping into a large family room, the two-storey ceiling and wall of windows flooded light around us. An open-access kitchen peeked around a corner. "Your house is nice. Homely."

My eyebrows lifted at two massive televisions hung over a stone fireplace. "Don't tell me you get off watching yourself play from different angles."

"That's the mirror above the bed." she teased, stepping past me. Heat seared my cheeks at what she meant. With a look over her shoulder, her smirk was visible from satellite level. "You should see your face."

Not having an answer, for once, I focused on wiping myself dry.

"Do you still need a shower?" Her eyes shifted to a closed door in the hallway.

"Unlike you." I yanked my bun free, then scrubbed my hair drier. "I'm clean."

Thankfully, Lisa grabbed a dry T-shirt and slipped it over her head. She paused behind a wide kitchen island, watching me recoil my bun. "Are you hungry, or should we go to the gym?"

"Gym first, better on an empty stomach than a full one." I sighed at my loose, post-workout clothes. "Lead the way."

Cool air greeted us downstairs, along with carpeted floors and a cleared-out space. Relaxation music filled my ears. I smiled at Lisa's Houston-themed mat. "Subtle."

She shook her head. "Bam's version of being supportive. He had the marketing team approve the colours."

My head swivelled at her admission, meeting her smile. "So, the whole team knows?"

"Not the players, only the front office. I'm sure they're still laughing about it."

A defensive spark kindled in me. "Well, they shouldn't. Yoga is beneficial for anyone."

The fact that my Tuesday and Thursday evening classes currently included all men teased the tip of my tongue. Lisa's ego having no place in it held me back.

"Right." Palming her hips, she gave me a dry look that shifted into something I couldn't recognise in her. "I've seen one guy at the studio, the one who..."

I smiled at the tension in her jaw. "Who? The guy I worked with on Friday or Monday? Don't you like sharing your yoga instructor?"

The moron's only answer was folding her arms over her chest. "Not if I'm paying her, to be honest."

"My contract doesn't have an exclusivity clause."

"I'm surprised that Mina didn't put one in. She's very... thorough." She sat on her mat with a frown. "All my team is."

Mina had included one, and I insisted it was struck out because I didn't want or need Lisa's permission for my yoga-related activities. Admitting that probably wouldn't be productive.

"Where do we start?"