Page 25 of Sideline Play

“What the fuck was that?” Sweeny asks, checking over his shoulder as the other guys do the same trying to place the noise.

Laughing as Winnie’s tongue rolls out with her panting and her big, goofy brown eyes look up at me like it’s my fault she’s exhausted, I answer, “Winnie.”

Snapping his head up, Dawson blinks, “Come again?”

“Winnie; Scar’s dog,” I repeat, rolling my eyes as Sweeny exaggeratedly scoots closer to the screen.

“So the rumors are true. Tate, you sly fucker. Never thought you of all people would make off with the prized princess.”

“Fuck off, asshole. She’s doing her job,” I snap, taking advantage of adminning the chat and silencing him. “I’ll unmute you when you decide not to be such a dick.”

“I mean, yeah we all know she’s doing her job and is damn good at it, but…” Nash starts, biting his lip. “She’s actuallylivingwith you?” When I nod my head, he whistles, “Damn… man, you are one lucky son of a bitch. Skip’s little princess is a seriously hot piece of–”

“Finish that fucking sentence; I dare you,” Dawson threatens.

Slicing my hand over my throat to silence them all as Scar comes around the corner, arms stretched over her head, I call, “How was it?”

“Mmm…” she hums, the sound going straight to my dick. “So good. I love it here. The hills, the fresh air, the changing leaves. Remi, you may just get stuck with me.”

Counting on it, baby girl.

Coming up to the outdoor seating, she stops and looks at my computer.

“Oh! You had your meeting. I’m sorry; I totally spaced. Let me grab Winnie and we’ll go inside.”

Waving her off, I say, “No, stay. Maybe you can help us out.”

“Okay, but I’m super gross right now,” she warns, coming between me and the coffee table making a surge of possessive jealousy build up inside when the fuckers on my screen get a momentary shot of her cleavage as she bends and helps herself to my water. Cup in hand and positioned between my legs, she starts to sink down, each one of their gazes following her flat stomach back up to her breasts and finally her face as she swallows and says, “I’ll sit down here until I'm less wet.”

On screen, Sweeny bites his knuckle before turning his face away from the camera. It hardly even registers though as she leans against the couch and tilts her head back to smile up at me.

“Is this okay?”

Looking at where she is and what the others are seeing, I shake my head. I don’t even think about the fact we have an audience. One that is quite chatty and includes a member of our team as well as someone Roman is actually friends with off the field. Instead, all I can think about is that my girl is on her knees, between my legs and the idea of anyone but me seeing her like that pisses me off.

The sensible, safe thing to do would be to tell her to just sit beside me and reposition my laptop. The jealous, possessive swell inside me, however, is not having it. I fucking hate the way they looked at her, still are, and spoke about her. She’smineand I want each of them, especially fucking Dawson, who seems to think it’s his place to step in and defend my girl, to know it. But apparently the always cool, even temper I’m known for when behind the plate doesn’t apply here because all sense has officially left me when it comes to Scarlet.

Reaching down, I hook my hands under her arms and drag her up and back onto the couch with me, sounding like a damn animal as I roughly say, “No; come here.” I spread my legs more so she can comfortably sit cradled within me. It’s a statement I really have no right to make and nearly begin to rectify as I feel how rigid she is, panic over pushing her too far taking hold.

But then she quietly sighs and melts into the space I made for her as if she’s always belonged there. The possession is still there as I curl my arm around her hip and pull her in even closer, her back curving with my chest, but it's quieter now. More a feeling of not wanting this moment to end than needing to claim her.

Catching Dawson’s snapping fingers on the screen while Scar is making pleasantries with the rest of the guys and his following point to my lap, I fish out my phone.

Dawson

Today 11:43 A.M.

Dawson

What the fuck are you doing, Tate?

Remington

Hosting the planning meeting

Dawson

Don’t play dumb. It’s not cute

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