God, I loved that look.
“You looked distracted during drills,” I added, stepping closer. “Can’t blame you. I mean, watching me in peak form? Hard to stay professional.”
“I was doing my job, you narcissist.”
“Uh-huh. You were absolutely objectifying me. I could feel it.”
“You wish.”
“I know,” I said, and before she could sass me again, I reached out and took her hand.
She let me.
Her fingers were small in mine, cool against the heat still radiating off me from practice. I didn’t stop there. My other hand found her waist, and I pulled her in, close enough to smell her shampoo, fresh and clean in contrast to the sweat and turf clinging to me.
“You’re gross,” she muttered—but she wasn’t moving away.
“You love it,” I said.
She didn’t answer.
I leaned in. Kissed her.
Messy. Impulsive. All want and no hesitation.
She kissed me back instantly, her hands sliding into my damp hair like she didn’t care about the sweat. It was heat and friction, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world blur. I backed her up until we hit the side of the training shed, and she pressed forward like she was trying to burn through me.
She pulled back just enough to murmur against my mouth, “Still think you’re the best player on the team?”
I groaned, low in my throat, and kissed her again—deeper this time, my fingers bunching in the fabric at her waist. She didn’t fight me. If anything, she took control, stealing the breath from my lungs like I was the one being played.
No cameras. No contracts. Just us.
Just this.
It wasn’t polished or pretty—it was sweat and grass and adrenaline. But it was real.
And I’d take that over perfect any day.
I barely noticed the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel behind us until a sharp voice cut through the haze.
“Hey!”
We both jolted.
Coach.
Shit.
He was storming toward us from across the field, clipboard in hand and scowl dialed up to eleven. I stepped back from Daphne, but the damage was done—my hands were still on her waist, and her mouth was a little swollen from the kiss we’d just been caught in.
“Cool it, Walker,” Coach barked. “Unless you want another disciplinary review on my desk by morning.”
I straightened instinctively, but I couldn’t help the grin that tugged at my mouth. My adrenaline was still pumping—not from drills, but from her.
“Just… team bonding, Coach.”
Daphne turned a shade of pink that made my chest ache a little. But she didn’t back away. Didn’t pretend she hadn’t just been kissing me like I was her next story. She stayed exactly where she was, chin high, like she dared him to say more.
