“No fucking?—”
I slap a hand over his mouth, feeling his smile press against my palm. Shivers race down my spine in response.
“Don’t say anything,” I whisper, reaching for the hem of my shirt.
He stays silent after my hand drops. But I think it has more to do with surprise than the instruction as I slide the straps of my sports bra off my shoulders next. His Adam’s apple bobs once, and heat streaks through me.
“Claire!”
“One sec!” I call back.
I reach for the towel hanging on the back of the door and wrap it around my torso, taking the second smaller one and covering my hair with it.
I take a deep breath, then open the door a crack.
“Hey—” Mackenzie pulls up short, mid-step, when she realizes I’m not opening the door any wider.
“Hey. I just got out of the shower,” I lie. “What’s up?”
“We’re watching a movie in Lucy’s room. You in?”
“Uh…maybe.” My grip tightens on the door handle. “I’ve got to get dressed, and then I was going to call my mom.”
Mackenzie nods. “Cool. Stop by if you feel like it.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I close the door, then release a relieved exhale.
I glance at Otto, who’s leaning casually against the wall between the door and my bed, a wide smirk on his face.
I hang up the towels and fix my bra straps. “If Mackenzie had found out you were in here, the entire Village would have known by tomorrow.”
He nods. “I should leave before it gets late. Beck wants to meet. I just wanted to wish you good luck before your match tomorrow.”
“Oh. Thanks. You coming?”
His second nod floors me. That was a joke.
I laugh nervously. “No, you’re not.”
He grins. “Yes, I am. Beck changed our training time so he could support Saylor. I want to see you play.”
“I won’t play. I’m not a starter.”
“So? That does not mean you will not play.”
“Youreallydon’t have to come.”
“Do you not want me to?” Otto looks uncertain all of a sudden, and it occurs to me that maybe he’s not as sure as he seems about everything.
I step closer, shrinking the distance between us down to inches. His gaze dips to my cleavage, and I get an answer to one question. He doesn’t care about my sports bra. His eyes are heated, hungry, as they scan my exposed skin.
“I want you to,” I whisper.
And then I rise up on my tiptoes and kiss him.
14
OTTO
