He can pretend tomorrow. He can deny it with his words. But he can’t deny what he did with his hands and mouth.
Dominic Moreal wants me. And he’s running out of ways to hide it.
Chapter ten
~DOMINIC~
The booth is too damn small for eight grown men built like tanks, but somehow we’re all crammed in like a pack of overfed wolves. At least it’s only eight of us. If the whole roster came, the owners would have to close the place and start slaughtering livestock out back to feed us. Plates of ribs and dripping burgers hit the table every thirty seconds, and fries disappear as if nobody here has seen carbs since the preseason.
“The nutritionist’s gonna have a fucking aneurysm,” I mutter, dunking a fry in mayo.
Jace shrugs. “We killed it last night. We’ve earned a damnburger.”
We won another home playoff game, and even though I’d planned grilled chicken and a salad when I brought them here, the guys descended on the menu like starved sharks at a shipwreck. All except Zed, who ordered grilled salmon and a Caesar salad without the croutons.
“Pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Tanner says.
“Pretty sure I don’t care, Tanny,” Jace fires back.
There’s comfortable chaos. It’s the good kind, the winning kind. Yet every few seconds, uninvited and unwelcome, the memory hits me again—Jessica’s lips on mine, the heat between her legs when I pressed my thigh against her, the sounds she made—
Stop.
Two plates land in front of Jace, one piled with wings, the other with a burger.
“You really gonna eat all of that?” Addams asks, eyebrows up.
“Yeah, fast metabolism,” Jace says, dragging the plates closer.
“Might be IBS,” I tell him solemnly, patting his shoulder.
I should be relaxed. We won. Playoffs look fucking good. But all I can think about is Jessica’s mouth and how I lost it like a rabid rookie with a crush.
Matt elbows me. “So, Captain… you wanna explain why you went viral again?”
Here we go.
Every sports outlet and social feed is stuffed with videos of me carrying Jessica out of the club two nights ago.
Miami Blazers Captain Drags Drunk Girlfriend Out of Club. Is Captain Moreal Truly Off the Market?
It’s everywhere. Sports media. Gossip sites. TikTok edits with slow, horny music. Even Tinnie called the morning after. “Dominic, that was not a good look.”
I told her it was under control. I didn’t tell her I nearly fucked my fake girlfriend against a wall afterward. And I sure as hell didn’t tell her the reason I went feral was because I saw another man touching Jessica and the world narrowed to one thought.
Mine.
I take a long pull from my water.
“It’s not often you see Moreal carrying a girl out of a club,” Tanner says, grimacing as he wipes his fingers on a napkin.
“She was drunk,” I shrug.
“So she was at the club,” Jace says with a grin.
The smug bastard knows everything. He came over the second I called him that night and sat through my middle-of-the-night debrief.
I’ve never felt anything like the moment I saw that guy leaning into her. I didn’t think straight.
