Page 3 of Shes my 1 Try

“Be careful you don’t trip. Wouldn’t want you to mess up that pretty face before the big photoshoot,” he laughs, half the team enjoying ribbing me about being selected for the Hot Bods of League shoot, a charity photo book being released in Las Vegas during the opening spectacular for this year’s season.

“Careful, you don’t choke on my dust.” The whistle blows and I push off, streaking ahead of Billy, my legs pumping hard.

I beat him to the try line and turn to watch him finish strong, an annoyed frown plastered across his brow.

“Fuck!”

“Better luck next time,” I shrug with a smirk, getting a kick out of beating him.

“Nice burst of speed.” Kai strides across the field to us. Billy and I might have come to a mutual understanding. Doesn’t mean that a spark couldn’t make us blow up.

“Yeah,” Billy huffs, walking off back to the middle of the field.

“Don’t let him get in your head. He’s an asshole. We all know it, but I only have room for one of them on the team, okay?”

Kai’s been nothing but welcoming, inviting me to his home—despite the fact he still lives at home with his dad, the coach—along with a couple of the other guys on the team. It was…unexpected and nice.

“For the record, he started it, but it won’t go any further.” Aside from the fact I’ll be on a plane flying to Sydney in a couple of hours, the acceptance the team has shown me—I don’t want to screw it up.

“It gets easier,” Kai slaps me on the back as we head to the sheds.

“What does?” I walk with him, slicking the sweat off my brow.

“Being part of a family.”

“Finally decided to grace us with your presence, Mr Scott,” a balding man puffs, snapping his fingers in the air.

“Plane was delayed. I did call,” I say in answer to his snippy attitude as he ushers me through the door.

“I’m sure it was,” he says dismissively as a short woman with white blonde hair comes scurrying over. “Get Mr Scott over to makeup and inform the set dressers to shuffle the order again. I’m sorry, Mr Scott, but you’re going to be here a while.”

Without another word he storms off, barking at people left, right and centre, all of them jumping at the sound of his voice. And I’m left with the frightened little mouse, chewing on her bottom lip.

“So, where’s the makeup department?” I prompt, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, yes, this way,” she squeaks, turning away and heading down a labyrinth of corridors, coming to a halt outside a room labelled, oddly enough, makeup. “Wait here, please. Someone will call you soon.”

“What…” But she’s gone, scurrying off around another corner before I can even ask her what’s going on.

When my manager first approached me with this offer, I jumped at it. I mean, what’s not to love about it? I get to take my kit off in front of a camera and have women swoon over me. This isn’t what I was expecting. I’m standing like a loser in a corridor as people rush by, grunting at me as if I’m in the way, waiting for bloody makeup.

“Next,” a weary voice calls from inside the room and I push the door open, blinking at the blinding amount of light inside.

Searching the crowded space, which is easy for me as I tower over most of them, toward the back is a woman, a set of those braid-thingies dangling down her back. Inviting curves have my hands itching at my sides and movement in my pants. And that ass…holy, fucking hell. That ass is a masterpiece. My gaze roams from top to bottom. I can’t help myself, and then she turns around…

Fuck!

My heart beats in my chest, just like Kylie Minogue’s song Padam Padam, and I’m suddenly starring in my own music video of seeing the most gorgeous fucking woman in the world standing across the room from me.

Brown hair, not just any old brown, that kind that has streaks of red through it is braided perfectly, and has my mind working overtime with images of wrapping it around my hands and pumping into her from behind. God, but the idea of watching her ass ripple with the intensity of my thrusts forces me to adjust my dick.

Fixated on full glossy lips as she talks to another makeup artist; more ideas, dirtier than the last, fill my head. This woman is utter perfection and as she walks toward me, the makeup lighting illuminating her like a fucking halo.

“I don’t have all day,” she says, jutting her hip out, placing a hand on the other. “Are you going to stand there gawking all day or get over here?”

For the first time in my life, words elude me. They get stuck in my throat and all I can do is nod, striding after her as she heads back to her station. Settling into the chair, she busies herself with setting out some powders.

C’mon, Asher. Get your shit together. Say something to her.

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