The man is going to make me crazy.
Maybe I already am crazy, because for the first time in my life, I don’t hurry to shower, change, and race home. No, instead, I tug the locker room door open an inch and peek through the crack I’ve made. I’m keeping an eye out for the players who will pass right by this place on their way home.
Red Tail after Red Tail passes by. But not the one I’m waiting for.
Where in the world is Lucca? How long can it take one man to shower and dress?Oof. Now, my mind is conjuring a showering Lucca.
Crap.
I let the cracked door shut tight, and I pace in the entryway of the empty women’s locker room. Huffing out a tired breath, I storm back to my locker, retrieve my phone, and pull up Lucca’s name.
Me: Where are you?
Lucca: Did we have a date? Am I late? My apologies. I’ll be right there. Just tell me where THERE is.
Me: No dating. Friends. I just want to talk to you. I swear, everyone has left this stadium but you!
Lucca: This would be a whole lot easier if you just told me where you were.
Maybe it’s better if I text my message anyway. I take a seat on the bench across from my open locker and blow out a puff of air. I haven’t even showered yet.
Before I can text one word, there’s a knock on the locker room door.
“Not again—” I say. But then, Lucca has already proved that he has no objections to hanging out in a women’s locker room or just walking right inside.
I hurry to the door, much too eager for a girl who is determined not to have a relationship with Lucca Cruz. I peek out, and sure enough, broad shoulders, tight chest, and dark, cocoa-colored eyes that make me weak in the knees stare back at me.
No—eyes that are brown, just like dirt on the ground, and do nothing to my knees look back at me.
Geez, Maggie. Get yourself together.
His brows raise, and I pull the door open. Quickly, before anyone can see, I reach out, snatching a fistful of Lucca’s T-shirt, and pull him into the room.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Ah, you just yanked me inside.” He shrugs. “Not that I mind.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“You knew I hadn’t left yet. I assumed you were still here, too.”
He makes it sound as if I were spying on him. “You wanted to talk?”
“I just—” I swallow. “We need to have some boundaries, Lucca.”
He steps closer, and I back up into the room until my calves hit the bench behind us.
“Boundaries,” he says, two feet away. “I can do that.”
“Can you? Because I’m not so sure.” It would greatly help if my voice weren’t so weak. If I could speak a little stronger and force a scowl on my face. But my heart is racing, and my head is reeling, and I might be drowning in his musk. He’s so darn close. I reach out a hand, resting the tip of my pointer finger on his chest, telling him without words that he’s close enough.
It's not my best idea. Lucca only lifts his hand to mine, lacing our fingers together and raising my hand to his lips. He kisses my knuckles, and a small volcano erupts in my chest.
I take one step closer to him, which is the exact opposite of the boundaries I just spoke of. My body and heart have taken control, no matter what I’ve been professing.
His mouth moves to my wrist with kiss after kiss. Sparks swarm through my body like a dry ember catching flame.
His eyes meet mine, silently asking for permission, and while I should protest, I can’t. The words won’t form. So, I watch him, my mouth dry, my body frozen, as his lips graze my inner elbow. My arm and hand have no life left in them. They are under his control. That’s clear as he drapes my hand over his shoulder and steps in a foot closer.
