He stepped closer again, the scent of soap and sleep and something unmistakably him following. “I’d like to ambush you again,” he said easily. “I’d also like to wake up with you again.”
Damn. I’d forgotten how smooth he was. The words slid over me like honey, warm and dangerous. “I’d like that, too.”
His answering grin was wide, beautiful and warmed every part of me, as he pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah?”
I nodded, feeling embarrassingly like a schoolgirl with a crush.
Slowly, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my temple. “I really do have to go now, though,” he said, not convincingly. “If I’m late, Coach will have me running laps until I regret every life choice that led me here.”
“I’d hate to be responsible for that,” I said, even though the idea of him staying tugged harder than it should have.
He reached for his pants, pulling them on with a quiet mutter. “Worth noting,” he added, “this is happening without underwear.”
I blinked. “Connor.”
“What?” He shrugged, fastening the button. “You made me come in my underwear last night, so I have no options.” He was grinning again, his whole face brightened with his amusement.
I laughed, shaking my head as I grabbed his shirt and tossed it at him. “Do you have spare underwear at the stadium, at least?”
“I do, but the idea of going commando all day because of you feels like a secret between us.”
“Right, until you do any kind of tackling on the pitch today, in which case I’d imagine you’d be out of action for a while after that.”
He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest, and stepped forward to brush his knuckles against my hip. “I’ll be careful. For you.”
I rolled my eyes, but it didn’t quite stick. “You should go. Before you’re actually late.”
He hesitated, just a beat, like he was weighing something. Then he nodded once, more decisively, and reached for his shoes.
“I’ll see you there,” he said, and the hopeful lilt of his voice made me weak.
“You’ll see me there,” I repeated.
He opened the bedroom door, then glanced back over his shoulder, eyes promising more later. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you staring,” he added. “I know you’re intrigued by my dick. You can take a closer inspection next time.”
Before I came up with a response that didn’t incriminate me, he was gone, leaving the room quieter than it had any right to be.
I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.
Yeah. This was definitely going to be complicated.
32
Connor
We were clinging to it by the end, but that was never a bad thing. Anyone who had grown up around rugby knew that the best wins were rarely the clean ones.
The first half had all the hallmarks of an opening game—nerves humming under the surface, timing a little off, bodies hitting harder than they needed to. The rookies had played like they were trying to prove something every time they touched the ball, and I’d let them. That hunger mattered.
Somewhere before halftime, we’d found our rhythm. We’d started trusting each other. When we’d crossed for our first score, the relief rolled through us like a tide. At the break, we were ahead. Just. Grinning like idiots as we’d dragged in harsh breaths and traded shoulder knocks that meant we were still very much alive in it.
The locker room smelled like sweat and adrenaline. Someone cracked open a water bottle and tipped it straight over their head with a groan that made a few of the boys laugh.
“Jesus,” Jake said, bent over double with his hands on his knees and a patched-up eyebrow. “If that’s first-game energy, I’m not making it to finals without something being broken.”
“You’re making it,” Bobby shot back, peeling his jersey up to swap it for a new one. “Your pretty face will survive too; it’ll make you more irresistible to the ladies later if you throw in a black eye.”
Jake rubbed his hands together, grinning. “Fuck yeah, it will. I bet I can get an elbow to the face out there.”
