When she turns her back to say something to Kaia, my eyes catch the lettering on the back of her shirt.Who’s a good boy?
“What the hell is that?” I choke, and she looks down at her shirt.
“Boone got me a new Hollow shirt?” She looks at it like it’s no big deal, but she has that infuriating little smirk on her lips.
“Oh, did he?” I narrow my eyes on her face, and she just smiles brighter.I’m going to kill that fucker.
I choose not to start a fight with her, knowing she’ll win, and instead let my eyes scan her. The loose sweats she wears are definitely mine, and the sweater she quickly pulls on is covering most of the damage, but there’s a pretty nasty grass rash on her throat where she got hung up in game three with another centre.
“You alright?” I ask, my hand coming up to her face so she’ll show me her neck.
“Gonna be sore for tomorrow but fine,” she admits.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the mustache has to go, Hellcat.”
“What, no!” she whines and narrows her eyes at me.
“I can’t take the shit, I’m not man enough,” I huff, and it makes her laugh.
“Can I get one last ride tonight?” she says under her breath.
“Then you have to help me get rid of it.” I kiss her gently, and she hums in agreement against my lips.
“It tickles too much anyway.” She pouts. “Where’s Daisy?” she asks, looking around.
“Boone took her to Riona’s,” I say quietly as my eyes inspect the bruising, irritated red area.
“Empty apartment?” She stares at me.
“Very,” I hum and tug her closer, my fingers curling around the back of her neck. “Good games today,” I congratulate the rest of them over the top of her head as she wraps her arm around my middle.
“Nice jersey,” Kaia teases as she pulls her hair up into a bun. “A little snug though, Killjoy.”
“I like it,” Rhea laughs and digs her fingers into my side. She tips her head up to look at me with a soft, tired smile. “Take me home.”
“First round’s on me,” I tell them, and they all start cheering as they pile out of the arena.
RHEA
“In the washing machine,” he says as we enter the apartment, and I start stripping off the dirty clothes.
“Or what?” I turn, pulling the shirt over my sore chest and dropping it on the floor just to see what he does.
“Hellcat,” he hums, dropping my bag on the floor. “Don’t start.”
“Too late,” I shrug, tugging my sports bra off and throwing that too.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he grumbles.
“Better make this quick, then.” I kick off my sweats as I make my way back to the bedroom.
I hear him behind me, mumbling every word as he goes, but when he reaches the bedroom and finds me lying back on the bed in nothing but dark underwear, his mood shifts again.
“Your turn to make a mess.” I stare up at him, and his jaw ticks as he crosses the room and crawls over me. His lips crash against mine as the dirty clothes get left on the floor, and his body overrides his need to clean.
The kiss is needy, a frantic game of back and forth with our lips as I work at his belt between us. He sits up, pulling at the hem of the jersey and groans loudly through kiss-bitten lips.
“What?” I laugh, staring up at him, my chest heaving.
