“I don’t know.” Shaking my head, the ref either needs new glasses or is deliberately ignoring it. I jump to my feet a few plays later as space opens up on the far side of the field and the ball lands on Asher’s chest.
He bursts up the field, none of the Rays players able to keep pace with him, but they manage to confine him to the corner of the in-goal area. As he slides across the try line, his teammates running up the field after him, Tyler Wannek slides into him, knees first.
Even the one-eyed Rays’ supporters let out a heaving moan, as Wannek’s knees connect with Asher’s head.
“Serves the little bugger right,” the man next to me yells.
“Oi!” I snap, staring daggers down at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“Listen here you?—”
“You what, old man?” Ines jumps in, forcibly swapping seats with me. “Like the lady said, don’t be an asshole.”
The man in question stays in his seat as other patrons stare at him, but I can’t care about it right now. Asher hasn’t gotten up, and as the medical team on the sideline race over to him, my heart skips more than a dozen beats waiting for him to move. When Ines slips her hand into mine, the air stalled in my lungs escapes and I breathe.
“He’ll be okay, honey,” she assures me and, as if her words are magic, Asher is helped to his feet. The crowd offer him supporting applause as he’s walked from the field, blood streaming down his face. “That looks nasty.”
Turning a furrowed brow on my friend, she shrugs her apology as I watch on, half expecting Asher to be taken down the tunnel. When he stops at the Dingoes’ bench in front of me, my mouth dries up, a weird mix of trepidation and excitement not helping.
“Well,” Ines pokes me. “Are you gonna call out to him or not?”
“No! No, I can’t do that. He needs to have his mind on the game,” I retort, slapping her hand down as she points in his direction.
I’d be lying if the thought of calling out to him isn’t nagging in the back of my head, but I know how much this game means to him. And he doesn’t need my worry on top of his own. Watching on as they tend to his head, they ask him a few questions and he nods, turning to scan the crowd. Hope that he’ll somehow spot me, builds and the sensation I’ve been experiencing every time we speak settles low in my belly.
It happens just like in the movies when his eyes meet mine. His mouth opens and closes, a wide smile lifting his face, and sparks explode in my mind.
You’re here, he mouths across the space, people walking in between us.
Nodding, I’m surprised when he grabs the towel being held to his head and walks toward me. For a moment we just stare at each other, but as his eyes drift down my body, taking in the Dingoes jersey I’m wearing, his smile turns possessive.
“Like a bit of danger, do you?” he leans in and whispers against my ear, his proximity sending jolts of pleasure racing through me.
“What’s life without a bit of excitement?” I manage to murmur back, his fingers brushing against mine, gripping the fence.
“Show him the back,” Ines interrupts, introducing herself as she spins me around. “She took a big risk for you, cute boy. I hope you’re worth it.”
“Ines!” I scold, spinning back around.
“I’d do anything for my number one fan,” he answers, referencing the writing I had put on the jersey. “This cute boy knows when he’s found the perfect woman.”
“Good answer,” Ines nods, sitting back down.
“So,” he leans back into me, his presence intoxicating. “Any chance I can fuck you wearing this jersey?”
I was not prepared for the heat and neediness hearing words like that in person would create and I have to force myself not to grab at him. The thought of being railed by this man sends my mind into overdrive, my pussy throbbing with anticipation.
“I think your chances are high, cute boy,” I tease, his pupils like saucers, his breath fluttering over my lips, my tongue darting out to capture even that small piece of him.
“Like I said, I’d do anything for my number one fan.”
“Scott, get your ass back here,” a cranky man calls out to him, waving him back to the bench.
“Wait for me. I’m escaping as soon as I can, and taking you somewhere private where I can have you all to myself,” he declares as he walks backwards towards the bench.
“Promise?” I call across to him, lifting the hem of the jersey to show him some flesh.
“With my dying fucking breath.” And with that, he’s gone and my entire body is alight with need.