by McKinley May
Every head in the crowd turns to face me, gaping at the “lucky” girl Steel Blue scored his goals for, but I hardly notice. I’m much too concerned with the way my stomach is flip-flopping and the passionate wildfire spreading in my lower core.
Fuck.
I need to talk to him.
I need to talk to him now.
I need these pestering feelings gone, this flickering candle of attraction blown out once and for all so I can get over this and direct my attention to more important things.
I can’t wait any longer to set the record straight with him. He can’t score goals for me, he can’t kiss me in dingy bars, he can’t make me feel this uncontrollable way that I do.
He just can’t. It’s too much.
When the halftime whistle blows ten agonizing minutes later, I swiftly make my way down the bleachers, avoiding the curious stares that follow me. I make a beeline straight for the locker room because we’re having this discussion right this second.
Yeah, maybe I should wait until the end of the game to confront him, but if the circus occurring inside of my body right now is any indication, I’d say this is an urgent matter.
Vaughn Steel and I are not happening.
And that’s final.
21
I’m on fucking fire.
I haven’t felt so “in the zone” in forever, and it feels damn great. Waves of testosterone pump through my body, and all I want to do is go out there and pummel Meyland even farther into the ground.
Does this have anything to do with the fact that I knew Rayne would be at this game?
Uh, hell yeah.
This triumph is as much for her as it is the team.
See, I figured something out. She wouldn’t respond to the normal forms of communication, so I needed to come up with something more…unconventional.
Rayne loves sports. I’m a badass athlete. No sports-loving woman can resist someone dedicating their athletic performance to them. It’s one of life’s universal truths.
I planned to put on a show worthy of her attention, but three goals in less than thirty-five minutes is even better than I could’ve predicted. There’s no way she’ll be able to ignore that gesture.
I guarantee she’ll be waiting for me after the game, either falling at my feet or ready to kick me in the nuts for calling her out in front of thousands of fans.
I’m betting on the latter, but either way she’s going to end her silent treatment towards me. And when that happens, we’ll have no choice but to talk about what’s going on between us. Which is exactly what I want.
Yep. My plan is foolproof.
The team exits the locker room after a quick pep talk from Coach, Weston and I bringing up the rear. I’m kneeling down and adjusting my shinguard when I feel a sharp tug on my jersey.
When I stand, I can’t help a smug smile from forming on my lips because—damn—that was faster than expected. Rayne’s already here, gripping my arm really fucking hard as she yanks me away from the team. Her expressive eyes are hidden behind bright blue aviators, but from the crease between her brows and the tight-lipped frown on her face, I can tell she’s royally pissed off and ready to blow.
God, I’ve missed her.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to come around. Couldn’t even wait until the game was over, huh?”
“What the hell was that?” Bitterness coats her words.
“What?” I shrug my shoulders innocently. “Can’t a guy dedicate a few goals to a girl? Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there is a problem.” She lets out an irked breath and glances ahead, watching the team jog towards the field before nodding towards the locker room. “Is anybody inside?”
I’ve barely shaken my head “no” when she tugs me through the doors and into the massive space. She drags me to the middle row of lockers before flipping around, her little pink mouth twisted into a scowl.
I take a step towards her, letting my eyes roam over her body, taking in how freakin’ gorgeous she looks. “Fuck, babe. You look hot in a baseball cap.”
Snarling, she removes her hat and sunglasses, placing them on the bench to her left. Her golden eyes refuse to meet mine as they dart around the room, searching for something to focus on.
“We need to talk about my birthday.”
“No shit. I’ve been trying to contact you all week to talk.”
Her eyes narrow as she looks behind me. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page about all of this.”
“All of what?”
“You know exactly what I’m referring to, Steel.” She shifts uncomfortably on her feet. “Don’t play dumb.”
Ha.
If she thinks for one second that I’m going to let her dance around this, she’s sadly mistaken.
“I want to hear you say it,” I demand gruffly.
“Us kissing! The alcohol-induced kissing. It was a heat of the moment exchange, and I think we can both agree it was a mistake. We should forget about it and move on.” Her voice wavers towards the end of her sentence.
“Is that what you think?” I let out a sharp laugh. “Because if so, we’re not on the same page about this at all. Shit, we’re not even reading the same damn book.”
Her teeth tug anxiously at her lip, and the girl still refuses to meet my gaze, stubborn as a damn mule.
“We’re friends, Vaughn. All we’re doing is working on this article together and nothing more. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“But it did.” I cup her chin in my hand and twist her head to face me. Her eyes finally reach mine and I stare deeply into the large pools of gold and amber swirls, daring her to look away.
“And we’re not just fucking friends, Rayne,” I growl out. “There’s more going on here and you know it. I know you do. Don't try and tell me you didn't feel something special between us.”
“It was the alcohol,” she insists, but I don’t back down.
“What about at your apartment? We weren’t drinking then.”
“I was high on cold medication. See the pattern here? Without the addition of substances, I wouldn’t have felt anything.”
“Okay.” I take a step closer to her, and she moves backwards towards the row of lockers. “Are you on cold medication right now?”
A shadow of confusion clouds her gaze. “No? I’m not sick.”
“Have you been drinking?” I question as I take another step, her body just inches from the cool, silver metal behind her.
“It’s ten in the morning, so that would be a no.”
I place both hands on the metal beside her head, caging her between the lockers and myself, eliminating any space between us. She swallows, and I notice the flicker of her rapid pulse on that cute little spot on her neck I just want to drag my tongue across.
I lean down, bringing my face directly in front of hers.
“So if I kissed you right now you’re telling me you wouldn’t feel anything? No sparks, no chemistry, not a goddamn thing?”
Heat flares in her eyes, entire body visibly tensing, but she continues her tirade of denial. “Of course not! Why would I? There’s nothing going on betwee—”
I steal the word straight from her as I slam my lips against hers hungrily, capturing her mouth with my own.
I’ve been fucking dying to kiss her again, imagining this moment for the last week, and the satisfaction I feel is instantaneous. It’s like a shot of piercing electricity straight to my bloodstream, a bolt of energy bringing me to life the moment my lips meet hers. I release a low, guttural groan deep in my chest in response.
For the amount of bullshit she was just spouting about there being “nothing between us”, she sure as hell reacts to my touch like there is. I can feel the resistance and denial drain from her body as she melts into me. A soft, sensuous moan escapes her lips, causing my dick to twitch in anticipation. She eagerly wraps her arms around my neck and rakes her fingernails across my shoulder blades, rubbing against the smooth fabric of my jerse
y.
I thread my fingers through her soft waves, tugging her closer to deepen the kiss. The scent of coconuts and vanilla—her scent—engulfs my senses completely as I nip at her plump bottom lip, greedily begging for entry into her warm, wet mouth.
When she parts her lips for me, my tongue darts inside, instantly finding hers and intertwining as the fervor between us heightens. My hands run down her body, fingers skimming the hem of her shirt as they trace the curves of her hips. And when I cup her perky, peach-shaped ass, another involuntary groan rumbles through me. I’m a total ass-man, and hers is fucking perfection in my palms.
I immediately scoop her up, her legs wrapping tightly around my hips as I vigorously push her against the lockers for leverage. I roll my hips forward, shamelessly grinding against her. She moans into my mouth as she juts her hips out to meet mine in desperation, rubbing herself on my dick like she can't get enough.
If I thought the testosterone was coursing through my veins earlier, I must be about to frickin’ overdose based on how amped up I am now. The thin material of her yoga pants and my baggy, breathable soccer shorts provide the world’s shittiest and simultaneously greatest barrier between us. I can feel the heat between her legs, feel how wet she is, and, fuck, just knowing how turned on she is amplifies my own arousal immensely.
She breaks our kiss, letting her head fall back against the metal. She closes her eyes, breaths short and ragged, matching mine.
“Jesus, Vaughn.” Her mumbled words shoot pleasure straight down my spine. Seeing her like this, guard-lowered and at a complete loss of control?
Hot. As. Hell.
Our rhythm increases, and the friction created as we grind together feels so fucking good. So good, in fact, that I’m thinking a few more minutes of this and, I swear to God, I might just—
“Welcome back to the second half!”
The booming sound of the announcer’s voice over the stadium speakers jolts us straight back to reality.
We pull apart, both breathless and panting.
“Shit!” I throw my head back in frustration as I reluctantly lower Rayne to the floor, aware that someone’s probably about to bust in here wondering where the hell I am.
It takes all of my willpower not to dive right back into her, especially the way she’s looking right now.
Her cheeks are completely flushed, one of the straps from her tank top hangs loosely down her shoulder. Her lips are swollen and parted, her chest heaving up and down with her labored breaths. She looks stunned as she leans against the locker, staring at me in bewilderment.
Damn. She’s beautiful.
I quickly glance at the door to ensure nobody’s come in before turning to her.
“Look, if you want to keep denying that something’s happening with us, I’ll leave you alone. We’ll finish the interviews like two normal people.” I reach a hand out and slowly drag her strap back into place, letting my fingertips run across the velvet skin of her arm. I raise my eyes up to hers, lowering my brow. “But if you want to stop fucking lying to yourself, come over tonight. We can figure out where we want to go from here. Ball's in your court, baby.”
I lean down, barely brushing my lips against the column of her neck.
“Don’t try to fight this, Rayne.”
Before she can respond, I turn and jog out the door, shaking my head as I try to refocus. I need to ignore the throbbing coming from the tent pitched in my shorts, ignore the desire to sprint right back inside and take her against the lockers.
Because I have a fucking game to finish.
Meyland isn’t done dealing with me yet.
22
I gave in.
I tried not to, I really did.
I was able to ignore how attractive he looked in his crisp white uniform, fight the desire to inhale his breathtaking natural scent, convince myself that he didn’t look fresh out of a high-end shampoo commercial with his perfectly wind-blown hair.
But in my one moment of weakness when I let him pull me into his gaze, I knew that was it. The charade was up; it was only a matter of time before I was completely and totally done for. I felt my defenses lowering the moment I looked into his eyes.
Those beautifully hypnotic, steel blue eyes.
The ones that pierce my soul, penetrate my thoughts, and prevent me from lying to myself and him any longer.
And then when he kissed me and I immediately melted into a puddle at his feet?
When I realized that without the cold meds and lemon drops, the chemistry between us was even more intense?
When I discovered how much I’d truly missed talking and hanging out with him this past week?
Yeah...that’s when I knew staying away from him was no longer an option.
I want to be with him. And I have for a lot longer than I’d care to admit.
I still have my reservations, though. I mean, this is Vaughn Steel we’re talking about here. Sure, he’s no “Weston the Womanizer”, but it’d be naive of me to deny the fact that he’s not exactly a one-woman kind of guy.
Is he capable of being monogamous? Does he know what dating someone even entails? Is he interested in actual dating or something purely physical?
I stop in my tracks at that last thought.
Despite things getting hot and heated earlier, that’s not the way I interpreted his plea in the locker room, but what if that’s what he was asking for? Nothing more than a friends-with-benefits type of deal?
What if I read this totally wrong?
I push the notion from my head and continue on. I guess I’ll have all the answers soon enough.
My skin prickles with goosebumps the moment I walk inside the Treehouse property—a combination of the chilly night air and my on-edge nerves acting up.
I make my way up the staircase, my steps slow and calculated so my shaky legs don’t give out and send me tumbling down the stairs. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths at the top, preparing myself as I knock twice on the dark wood.
When Vaughn opens the door, my heart beats like a bongo drum in my chest. His white cotton t-shirt grips every inch of his sculpted upper body, stretching tight against his broad chest. Charcoal sweatpants hang low on his hips, and his skin glows golden under the dim lantern light above the door frame.
A wave of pure happiness washes over his face, and I give him a timid smile.
“I’m glad you came.”
He reaches his hand out for mine, and I take it, not saying a word as he leads me inside the empty house and up the grand staircase.
Once we’re inside his bedroom, I quickly walk over to his bookshelf, trying to find something to occupy myself with. I need a few moments to chill out before we get to the deep stuff.
“You guys played great today,” I say, my back facing him. I pick up a copper soccer ball paper weight and hold it up, examining it.
“Thanks. Definitely an easy win for us.”
I hear his voice behind me, but don’t turn around when I respond. Instead, I crouch down and focus intently on one of his many math textbooks as I start rambling.
“Must be a good confidence boost midway through the season to have a win like that. As long as you guys don’t let it go to your head. There’s nothing worse than going in over confident to the next game after a big win and getting your ass kicked. It happens so much in sports, you know? The psychological aspect of the game is so interesting, it’s like—”
“Rayne.”
His voice is sweet and contains a hint of amusement at my crazy nervous babbling. When he doesn’t say anything else, I finally turn around. He’s lounging on his bed with his arms crossed leisurely behind his head, dozens of pillows propped up around him, and a wide grin painted on his face.
“You want to talk about the real reason you’re here? I appreciate your concern about the negative effects of an inflated ego, but I know that’s not what you came over to talk about.”
He tips his chin towards the bookshelf behind me. “And I’m pretty sure y
ou didn’t come over to discuss Abstract Algebra or Advanced Stats either.”
I cross my arms over my chest defiantly. “Maybe I did.”
His teeth tug at his bottom lip as he fights a laugh. He pats the space beside him, beckoning me to join him on the bed. “Get over here, babe.”
I swallow and obey, squeezing in next to him on that cloud-like mattress, laying on my side so I’m facing him. He reaches a hand out and places it on my thigh, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner that helps calm my nerves.
“What are you so afraid of?” he questions tenderly.
“I’m not sure.” I sigh and place a hand over his, my fingertips softly stroking his knuckles. “I like you, Vaughn. I really do.”
His eyes flick to mine, hazy with bliss. “And I like you.” He gives my leg a quick squeeze. “But I think I’ve already made that apparent.”
“Yeah, you have,” I say softly.
Frowning, he lets his head fall back onto the pillows in anguish. “So we’ve established that we both like each other. Help me see the issue here, because I’m not getting it.”
