Straight to voicemail.
"Fuck." I tried again.
Same result.
The locker room door slammed open and I looked up to find my assistant captain, Marcus, standing there with his arms crossed.
"Want to explain what the hell just happened?"
"Roarke's being Roarke," I said, already pulling up my texts.
"That didn't look like typical Roarke bullshit. That looked personal."
It was personal.
I typed out a message to Reina:We need to talk. Call me.
Sent.
It delivered but there was there was no immediate reply.
Marcus was still standing there, waiting for an explanation I wasn't going to give.
"I'm fine," I said. "Tell Coach I'll be there in five."
"He's pissed, man. You can't just..."
"Five minutes."
Marcus left, shaking his head. The second the door closed, I leaned against the lockers and tried to think past the rage still coursing through my system.
Jaxon had touched her. Had his fingers inside her. Made her scream his name.
The images were vivid and unwanted, burning into my brain. Reina pressed against a wall, Jaxon's hand between her legs, her body arching into his touch.
I was hard.
Fuck, I was actually hard thinking about it.
Not because I wanted to picture her with him. But because some fucked up part of me was responding to the competition. To the challenge. To the idea that we were both chasing the same thing.
The same woman.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I opened the text.
Heading over to her place now. Gonna finish what I started last night. Make her scream louder this time.
Jaxon.
My jaw clenched so hard I heard my teeth grind. Another text came through immediately.
Wonder if she'll still smell like you when I'm done with her. Or if I can fuck your scent right out of her skin.
My hand tightened around the phone and I typed out a reply,Stay the fuck away from her, Roarke.
