“What look?” I shrugged. “I’m just tired because I was in bed with an insatiable woman who takes direction too well and screams until her voice goes hoarse. Thought poor Alfie was going to break down the door at one point. You sounded like you were either getting murdered or having the best night of your life.”
Mack threw a napkin at me. “Very funny. And the look that says you’re thinking about skipping practice. You only have a few minutes before you need to show up, and you guys have your first game soon.”
“Memorized my practice schedule?” I grinned.
She scowled. “I see that sex doesn’t change your winning personality or inability to tamp down that ego.”
“If anything, it makes it worse,” I teased, smiling more in those few brief minutes than I had in weeks. “Are you going to paint your face and wear my jersey? Because I have to admit, I’d love that—would love it even more if you flashed me.”
She grabbed a plate, piled it high, and shoved it into my hands. “No face painting because I’ll stand out, and I hate . . .” She frowned. “I don’t really like attention after the whole . . .”
With a curse I was pulling her into my arms. “Women like you should never have to hide—don’t let that dick take your strength. Don’t let him win.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I’ll . . . try, it’s just . . . hard.”
“He’s a dumb jackass with one testicle—you really think he should have the upper hand in any situation? I doubt he can even walk in a straight line without stumbling on account of his uneven balls, bet the guy even wears special shoes so he looks taller.”
“You finished?” She grinned.
“For now.” I let out the breath I’d been holding. “He deserves to get punched in the face every day for leaving you at the altar.” I shrugged, thankful the bastard had no brain cells and didn’t go through with it, his loss, my gain. “Now I’m done.”
“You volunteering as tribute?”
“I’d probably do it at a different time every day so he could never mentally prepare for the punch—I imagine he would eventually just go insane and die alone.” I nodded encouragingly.
She patted me on the shoulder. “Eat your bacon and go to practice.”
“Come with me.”
“I have Alfie.”
“Bring Alfie.”
She rolled her eyes. “I need to finish dishes, and I noticed that the laundry needed—”
“Excuses.” I grabbed her hand. “Come with me to practice. You can watch with Alfie—then during break we can grab lunch. Please.”
She made a face and then slumped. “Lunch, no practice, and somewhere nobody would expect us to be, the last thing I need is to be on every magazine in the world . . .” She made a face. “Again.”
“If the worst happens, we’ll just run Jagger over with your car, problem solved. He’ll be all over the news, and we’ll be old news, and really, I don’t mind driving . . .” I winked.
“Shocked.” She grabbed a piece of bacon and tugged it between her teeth. Waves of jealousy mentally attacked that bacon as she let out a moan. One that wasn’t for me, but for a dead pig.
Lucky pig.
Even Alfie sighed.
“Come,” I tried again.
She let out a sigh that said she was giving in and then straddled my lap as she sat down, wrapped her arms around me, and whispered in my ear, “I like waking up with you.”
“Does that mean yes?” I braced her hips with my hands.
Our foreheads touched. “That depends.”
“On?”
She pulled back, uncertainty in her eyes. “Just tell me now, so I know.”
“I’m completely lost.”
“Was it . . . am I . . .” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m a grown woman, I can handle the truth, but I need you to tell me now.”
“What am I telling you?” I whispered. “That you’re beautiful? That I can’t get enough of you? That I’m going to be dreaming about your thighs wrapped around me during practice?”
Her lips parted briefly. “No. That. I mean.” She smiled. “I was just hinting that if this was a one-time thing—it’s okay to tell me.”
“I want you more than once. I took you more than twice.” I pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It wasn’t a one-night stand in Mexico, it’s not a one-night stand now. I’m not doing this to get you out of my system—if anything, I’m obsessed with keeping you in my system, in my soul, in my blood. How’s that for a confession?”
She pressed her lips together and then full-on smiled. “Pretty good, could use some work, but you still have jackass-like tendencies, so I’m forgiving.”
I smacked her on the ass, then squeezed. “You’ll pay for that later.”
“Counting on it,” she teased, crawling off me and grabbing another piece of bacon, nipping it with her teeth while she started humming and moving around the kitchen.
Unease rippled through my body.
Because the last time things felt this good—this . . . perfect. Was when I walked in on my best friend and fiancée doing reverse cowboy.
“You should hurry up.” Mack poured herself another cup of coffee.
I jumped to my feet. “Don’t forget lunch.”
She was mid-sip so just waved while I ran back to the room to get changed.
And the feeling?
The dread.
Followed me all the way to the stadium.
Chapter Forty-Four
SLADE
I gave Jagger a wide berth.
I was afraid if he opened his mouth I would force it shut with my fist and then end up getting pulled into Coach’s office.
I didn’t hate him.
Hate meant you wanted to kill someone.
And I’d like to think all the sex tamed me a bit, or at least my thoughts. Though I wouldn’t exactly be upset if his dick just fell off and got run over by a semi.
“There a reason you’re staring at that soccer ball like you want to hump it?” Matt took off his sunglasses and shoved them in his suit jacket. “Because I can leave you two alone if it’s necessary—and I signed an NDA, so I can’t say shit to the press about your kinky fantasies.”
I sighed. “I was thinking, not about humping, just—” I gave my head a shake. “It’s nothing, I know it’s nothing. I just have a bad feeling.”
“A feeling?” Matt repeated, his tone sharp, his expression concerned. “And when did this feeling start?”
“Post-sex. Breakfast. There was bacon, she was half naked and straddling me—”
“I really don’t need that sort of detail.” Matt held up his hand. “And I’ve known you for years, you’re just gun-shy. Who wouldn’t be, after last year?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
Matt put his hands on my shoulders and pressed down. “Trust me. You’re the kind of guy that gets worried when things are going right because he’s so damn sure that they’re about to go wrong . . . but that’s not how the universe works, alright?” He dropped his hands. “So snap out of it and go kick some balls around so I can take your stupid Instagram photos.”
I grinned at that. “Hey, that’s how I get followers.”
“You have twenty million. Do you really need more?” he wondered out loud. “I know it strokes your ego to get marriage proposals and compliments.” He changed to a falsetto. “‘He’s so cute, so hot, I’d let him touch my balls.’”
I made a face. “The hell?”
“Oh, that was last night’s message. He was fifty, I’m sure his balls are very hairy and in need of attention—if you want me to reach out I can—”
“Matt.”
He laughed. “Fine, go do your thing, I’ll snap ten and post one of them in a few hours, alright?”
“I want to look sexy as fuck, Matt!” I joked, turning and running right into Jagger.
He stumbled back.
I stared him down.
He shook his head and sidestepped me.
“What? No hug?” I
called after him.
He flipped me off with his right hand and kept walking.
I grinned. “That’s what happens when you get the girl.”
Matt gave me a look that was more concerned than anything. “You realize it’s not just about getting her—it’s about keeping her.”
“Not gonna be a problem,” I said confidently—even though something still felt wrong.
And as I continued running off, doing drills, sprints, I wondered what it would take for the damn feeling to go away.
“Watch it,” Jagger growled when I was so lost in thought I nearly ran into him.
“Sorry.” I gave my head a shake. “I’m a bit out of it today.”
“Sex does that to a guy.” His nostrils flared, and he stood there. Like he was waiting for me to deny it.
“Guess it does,” I said through clenched teeth. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
He scowled. “You’re going to break her, like you break everything. Why can’t you just leave it alone? Leave her alone?”
“What do you mean break her?” I stood with my hands on my hips. “She holds all the cards, not me. I genuinely like her, which is more than I can say about you.”
“Funny.” He hung his head. “I don’t want to be that guy, Slade.”
“The asshole?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “The guy the girl comes running to because the one that she really wants breaks her heart. Don’t make me that guy. I suck at being that guy.”
He turned on his heel and jogged off.
Leaving me wondering what he could possibly know that I didn’t.
About Mack.
About my past.
I didn’t break things.
If anything, I was the one who still felt broken.
Chapter Forty-Five
SLADE
“Hey!” Mack walked into the stadium with a bright smile, her brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and her eyes actually sparkled. I’d never been the type of guy to get focused on all the tiny little details, but with her, I couldn’t help but notice everything.
Even the three freckles near her nose.
The slight dimple on the left side of her face when she laughed really hard.
She had a scar just below her chin like she’d taken a fall when she was little. I could imagine that, a small Mack sprinting through the house and tripping over something.
I watched her make her way slowly across the turf.
She was dressed casually in black Converse, skinny jeans, and a long-sleeve shirt. It looked good on her.
“Hey,” I finally called back, waiting for her to step into my arms, which she did, even though I was sweaty. “You made it.”
“You’re . . .” Her breathing picked up. “Sweaty.”
“I hope this doesn’t mean we have to break up,” I teased, placing a kiss on her nose.
Her eyes flashed to mine. “Break up . . .”
“Wow.” I reached for her hand and interlaced our fingers. “Mack, that cuts deep!”
She laughed and leaned her head on my shoulder, despite my sweat. It was like she didn’t care. And I loved every bit of it.
“So not only am I not a one-night stand but . . . did you just basically call me your girlfriend? Moving a bit fast for a player, Slade.”
“Hilarious.” I stopped walking and pulled her into my arms then pressed my mouth against hers, tasting the mixture of coffee and spearmint gum on her tongue. “Be mine?”
“I’m already yours. You know that,” her voice whispered softly between our bodies.
“Maybe I just like hearing you say it.”
“That’s more like it . . . it scares me when your arrogance isn’t showing.”
“I’m not sure if I’m offended or if that actually makes sense.”
She looped her arm in mine. “Trust me, it makes total sense.”
“Hah.” We walked down the tunnel that led to the locker rooms and parking lot. I didn’t miss the stares I got from teammates, with expressions ranging from knowing smirks to complete devastation.
Jagger.
Mack’s breath hitched.
I wanted to stand in front of her, guard her from his leering eyes. I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and yell, “Nothing to see here!”
Instead, I chose the opposite of being my typical dick self and kissed her on the forehead. “I need to go shower really quick. Why don’t you guys . . . talk.”
“Did that hurt to say out loud?” She smiled up at me.
I groaned. “You have no idea. My throat actually hurts, but not as much as my chest . . . stop giving me anxiety, it’s not good for my game.”
She patted me on the chest. “I think you’ll make it.”
I sighed. “Just . . . don’t let him touch you. Or breathe too much air around your space, and if he says—”
“I’m a grown-ass woman. Go take your shower so you can feed me. Oh, and Slade, you’re paying.”
I burst out laughing. “A gentleman always pays.”
She winked.
It didn’t alleviate the panic when she turned to Jagger.
When he got up and made his way toward her, a mixture of anger and sadness filled his features.
I exhaled and turned around.
With every step I fought the need to protect her.
To protect what we had.
To keep him from telling her what she already knew.
I wasn’t good enough for her.
Would never be.
Chapter Forty-Six
MACKENZIE
“Hey.” I shoved my hands in my back pockets and rocked awkwardly on my heels. Jagger was shirtless just like Slade had been, his muscles glistened. He was clenching his teeth. I could tell because his jaw looked ready to pop off his face.
Jagger would always be beautiful to look at.
But it wasn’t Jagger that I wanted.
“Hey, Mack.” He swallowed like he was trying to keep from saying something else, and then he reached out and pulled me in for a hug. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
I sighed against his chest, wrapping my arms around his thick middle. “It’s not your fault that Slade’s jackass tendencies tend to rub off on people closest to him, and you did spend one full week coaching together.”
I pulled away grinning.
His smirk was back. “Well, at least he let me keep my hair.”
“Your hair?”
“I lost, the bet was to shave our heads, but he somehow convinced the players to make me shave my legs and arms instead. So now I have a high-and-tight haircut too.”
“Tell me the truth . . .” He ran his hands over his newly cropped hair. “Did I chase you into his arms? Was it my fault?”
I let out a sigh. “Jagger, you offered friendship—I wasn’t ready for more, not after everything that happened between me and Slade, and then . . .” He didn’t need the gory details. “Never mind, the point is, no you didn’t push me into his arms, but I probably wouldn’t have sprinted toward them as fast as I did had you not made me feel stupid, like there was something I wasn’t seeing with him. Trust me, when I walked into that house, I knew exactly what he was capable of—but the risk was worth the reward. You can’t live in fear, you know?”
His face broke out into a soft smile. “Your maturity’s good for him.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
“Hopefully, we can still be friends—maybe you’ll even tame the beast, crazier things have happened, right?”
“Right.”
He nodded and was getting ready to walk past me when I grabbed his hand and whispered low, “One thing that’s been bothering me.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You said I didn’t have the full story on his ex . . . were you alluding to something I should be concerned about?”
Jagger sighed. “His ex is a piece of work . . . just know . . .” He swore. “Shit, if he ever finds out I told you this he’s going to kill me, a
lright?”
My stomach dropped and then filled with dread only to drop further. “What?”
He looked over my head like he was making sure that Slade wasn’t coming out of the locker room. “Look, when you’re as famous as he is . . . especially with how big soccer is overseas, they worship you . . . you’re not just a celebrity, you’re some sort of god. The things he gets offered on a daily basis, the women that throw themselves at him. It’s normal to him, it’s not normal to someone who isn’t in the limelight or in the sport. His ex was the sweetest girl at first. I loved her. Everyone loved her. It made it easy for him to love her. But this life can turn even the best women dark—it ate away at her, the constant attention from other women, the flirting. The emotional cheating. Did he ever touch anyone? No. Did it matter when he was answering texts and Instagram messages? Did it matter when he had photo shoots with women all over him asking to do happy hour after? He didn’t see her anymore. He didn’t see . . .” He took a deep breath. “Cheating will always be wrong, but she didn’t cheat because she ever fell out of love with him—she cheated to make him as jealous as he was making her. And when he didn’t notice, she just kept doing it. It was a cry for help. And then it was too late and he just left her. He promised her forever, he gave her a ring. They both messed up, and the media made her the monster. That’s all I’m saying. He’s poison you don’t even know you’re drinking until you stop breathing. I wish I was wrong . . .”
“Why is this so personal?” I asked with a shaky voice.
“Fuck.” Jagger just shook his head. “Because I dated her first.”
“Excuse me?”
“Because,” Jagger said through clenched teeth, “before she ever knew Slade—she was with me. Five. Years. She was mine. Engaged. And he ruined her forever.”
“But—”
“Everything okay?” Slade walked up behind us and wrapped an arm around me.
“Yup!” I said way too fast while Jagger locked eyes with me one last time and then nodded his head at Slade and walked off.
I tried to stop the shaking.
The overanalyzing.
The stupid worries. Fears. The thoughts.
I didn’t talk the entire way to the restaurant.
Risky Play Page 19
