He kicked open another door. There was a huge tub filled with bubbles.
“Don’t you like to relax after a game?” he asked.
My eyes widened. “How did you know?” He placed my feet on the tile.
“Because I know what it feels like when you work your body like that for four hours. Ever muscle is sore. Every part hurts.”
I nodded, rubbing my neck. “Everything.”
“How’s your leg?” He lowered to the floor, dragging my shorts to my ankles. He stopped to kiss the back of my leg.
“Better when you do that.” I smiled. I liked the pampering. I liked the candles and the flowers and the huge tub with bubbles.
He rose from the floor and lifted my shirt overhead.
“Fuck, I love that your tits are so perfect,” he growled.
They hardened under his stare. I stepped toward him, pressing my hands to his chest.
“Are we both going to fit in that tub?” I looked over my shoulder.
He laughed. “No, it’s for you. Enjoy it and I’ll be waiting for you out there when you’re done.”
I looked at him strangely. “Really?”
“Really.” He kissed my forehead. “Enjoy it.”
He walked out of the bathroom and closed the door. I pivoted toward the bubbles. I was turned on from his kisses and his touch, but the bath was calling. I knew where he’d be when I got out.
I dipped one toe in, feeling the soothing relief of the hot water, then slid all the way in until I was submerged up to my shoulders. I rested my head on the back of the tub. I didn’t know Sam had a romantic side. I took in the moment and let my body relax. I didn’t worry about being a Goddess or trying out for the ballet. I didn’t worry that he wanted things to move faster than I did. I tried to block all of that out and realize that an insanely hot and sexy man had planned a spontaneous romantic overnight trip for me. That was all that mattered.
I wrapped the towel around my chest and cracked the bathroom door.
“You still here?” I asked.
“I have two glasses of cold wine.”
I padded across the floor and joined Sam on the couch. The gas logs crackled as if they were real. They were pretty to watch.
I took the glass from him. “Thank you.”
“How was the bath?”
“Everything I needed. Even my leg feels better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed me.
“How are you feeling? About the game.”
He shifted back on the cushions. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s over. We lost. I can’t get that second back.”
“I understand.” I stared in the fire. “I feel the same way about my accident.”
“Then I guess I shouldn’t ask.”
I shook my head. “No, I think I can talk about it now. I’ve wanted to tell you. It’s a big part of me, Sam, and I think you should know what happened.” I took another sip of wine. “It was during a performance. And not just any performance. It was opening night. My parents were there. Do you know how huge it is that both of them were in the same room to see me perform?” I spoke the words slowly.
“I was prima ballerina. My father flew in from Paris. This was what all of us had been waiting for. Finally, after years of practice and fighting for that position—I had it. And they were so proud of me. Proud that all the work had finally paid off. The hours and the years of practice and pain had meant something.” The flames danced over the fake logs.