Page 47 of End Game

“Uh-huh.” The doubt in his voice is strong.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

Nico leaves his bedroom, walks across the short hall straight toward me. I have no choice but to walk backward into my bedroom, nearly tripping over my feet to stay out of his way. He shuts my bedroom door behind him, towering over me with an intimidating expression on his handsome face. He smells like fresh-cut grass and spicy male with the faintest hint of sweat, which might disgust the average woman, but me?

All I can think about isHow can I rub myself all over his muscular body so I can smell like him?

“He had his hands on your ass, Ever.” He bites each word out, and they hit me like pellets against glass.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

“No, he did not,” I retort, indignant. I don’t remember feeling Frank’s hands on my butt. No way did he touch me there. As a matter of fact, I know those hands were on my lower back, but definitely not any lower.

“Yeah.” Nico is nodding, his dark gaze full of fire. “He did. I saw them.”

I ignore his statement. I think he’s just—mad, and I don’t understand why. “It was nothing.”

“Looked like something to me.”

“Why do you care?” I toss out at him.

He rears back, confusion in his features. “I don’t.”

“That’s a mighty big reaction then, for someone who claims to not care.” I take another step backward, needing the space. His presence eats up every bit of air in the room, and I’m suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “You need to leave. I have to change.”

“What you two do is none of my business,” he says, his voice deceptively soft. “I already warned you about Dollar.”

“He’s not as bad as you made him out to be. He’s actually a really nice guy.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “And what’s funny is that all sorts of people have warned me off ofyou.”

He’s frowning, his brows drawn together. “What do you mean? Who’s warning you about me? And what do they tell you?”

“How you’re a player and that you use women.” I drop my arms at my sides. “And I’m not interested in you like that.”

Oh, the lies are just flying from my lips with ease, aren’t they?

“Fucking great.” Why does he sound so disappointed?

“And I’m not interested in Frank like that either.”

His anger seems to dissipate. “Really.”

“Really,” I repeat. “Why do you keep knocking my yoga sessions?”

“What?”

“You always seem to make snide remarks or little digs at what I do. Your teammates love it. You might, too, you know. You seem so stressed all the time. I think it’ll do wonders for you.”

His expression goes blank. “I’m not interested.”

“You won’t know unless you give it a try.”

He stares at me.

I stare in return, not about to back down.

“Will you stop harping on me if I try it out?” he finally asks.

Triumph curls within me. “Yes.”

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