“You and Tyler are related?” Riley asks.
I shrug. “Kind of. His mom and my mom have been best friends forever, so we grew up like cousins.” I shoot Tyler a slygrin. “He’s like the really, really annoying second brother I never wanted.”
Tyler pouts dramatically, crossing his arms. “Well now I’m really going to kick your ass on the football field.”
“You won’t,” I say with narrowed eyes. He probably will, but at the promise of competition, the former athlete in me comes out to play.
He narrows his eyes right back at me. “Only one way to find out.”
Which is how, fifteen minutes later, I find myself standing on the fifty-yard line of the Renegades practice field, football in my hand. I stare down the field, wondering how it’s possible that it seems, at minimum, one hundred times bigger than it looks from the sidelines. No fucking way can I stand here and throw a football farther a Heisman Trophy winning quarterback, but I’m in it now.
There are two teenage girls watching.
Feminism practically demands I follow through.
The kids are chattering away with Tyler, Brian, and Drew, and Cam is behind me, so close I can practically feel the warmth of him through my T-shirt. “You’ve got this, Wildcat,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear. “Middle three fingers on the laces.”
“Don’t call me that here,” I hiss quietly, ignoring the warmth that courses through me at the nickname as I spin around to face him, and oops. Big mistake. Huge. Because up close, Cam looks even more delicious in that backwards hat, sexy stubble covering his jaw like he didn’t bother to shave this morning. And when he glances over at his kids, as if to check that they’re still there and still okay, everything inside me melts. The intersection between football Cam and dad Cam is unfairly hot. And, I fear, irresistible. I scowl at him to make up for the fact that I want to climb him like a tree right on this field and also burrow into his big, strong arms. “Also, are you mansplaining at me how to throw a football? Don’t be that guy.”
Cam holds up his hands, widening his eyes dramatically. “I would literally never.” He glances over again to where Zoe and Riley are now attempting cartwheels and Ethan is tossing the football to Tyler while Brian and Drew watch. “Also,” he says, dropping his voice low so to everyone else, it really does look like he’s giving me football throwing tips. “I like calling you Wildcat. I like the way your cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. The way your pulse flutters in your throat. That’s the way you looked when you came for me that night in the hotel, and I really, really liked watching you come.”
That’s the moment I choke on nothing, coughing and spluttering like I’m drowning in the ocean instead of standing on a football field in the presence of no water whatsoever.
Cool, Maddy. So very, very cool.
“You okay, Maddy?” Cam asks in a regular voice, loud enough for everyone to hear, but I think only I hear the wicked streak lacing his tone.
Asshole.
I want to kill him. Fuck him? Who could say, really.
Instead, I just roll my eyes. “I’m fine. Can we get this over with? The pizza we ordered will be here soon, and I’m starving.”
“Let’s do it!” Tyler jogs over to stand next to me. “I’ll give you a fifteen-yard handicap. You know, on account of me being a famous quarterback and all.”
I give him an epic side-eye. “Do you not know me at all? Just throw the damn ball, Hansley.”
“Okay!” Brian says with a grin. “On three. One. Two…”
“THREE,” all three kids yell, running straight at Tyler and tackling him like mini-defensive linemen flying across the line of scrimmage. Tyler goes down on a yelp, the football rolling out of his hands.
“Fumble!” Drew yells, scooping up the ball and taking off towards the opposite end of the field, Ethan hot on his heels.
I laugh, gripping the ball in my hands, fingers settling around the laces. Pulling my arm back, I rotate my body and let it fly. Ittravels about thirty yards before hitting the grass, and I toss my hands up in the air.
In a flash, strong arms grab me from behind. Cam’s scent surrounds me, all cedar and spice andman, before he hoists me up, somehow turning me around in his arms in a scorching-hot feat of strength before he spins in a circle yelling, “WINNER!”
The girls and Brian cheer, and Drew races back down the field with Ethan tossed over his shoulder, letting out a loudwhoop. The whole mood is playful and fun except for the fact that Cam’s arms are locked just under my ass, lighting my entire body on fire, and he knows it because he lets out a low chuckle, surreptitiously grazing his thumbs along the bottom curve of one cheek before letting me down.
Slowly.
Cam slides me down his body so slowly I feel every inch of him, from his sculpted shoulders to his hard pecs and stacked abs and, finally, the pièce de fucking résistance, his cock, which is so obviously hard in his shorts that I let out a little yelp before smothering it with a cough.
He chuckles again, spinning me around to face everyone else, the heat of his body warming my back even though he’s not actually touching me anymore. He’s just so fuckingthere. My cheeks are on fire, and some people might mistake it for exertion, but when I see the knowing smirk on Drew’s face, there’s clearly at least one person in this little circle who knows better. And when Brian eyes me with a considering look on his face, the little surge of panic is enough for me to get my shit together.
Looking down at where Tyler is still sprawled on the field, I cross my arms and smirk down at him. “Looks like I’m the better football thrower after all.”
“Quarterback,” Tyler grouses from where he lies on the ground. “I’m a motherfucking quarterback. I lost on a technicality.”
