Page 43 of Crossing the Top Line

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder, Pope. Had to make you miss me,” I tease, puckering my lips briefly to blow him a kiss.

He laughs and darts a hand out to catch my “kiss” midair and tucks it in his pocket. It pulls chuckles even from the stone-faced security team. I open the trunk of my SUV and pull out the jersey I’d been given for these sorts of outings. Not one I’d wear to a game, but a clean, fresh one that still smells like detergent and scent cleaners. I’m hoping this is a sign that I’m not going to be sent home today. They wouldn’t give out jerseys with my name and number sewn onto them if they didn’t think I was going to get more than one use out of it, right?

As the thought forms, my stomach twists nervously once again. Spencer and Eli aren’t out here doing community events, putting their faces into the public eye as part of the team. Could Coach be trying to decide if he’s going to send them down?

My blood freezes in my veins, and I mutely follow the group as we head into the elementary school, past rows of salmon-colored lockers and closed doors and into the backstage area of the auditorium. The curtain is closed, but I can hear hundreds of little voices just on the other side. I smile and try to listen as we’re handed microphones and introduced to the principal and student activities advisor. But their words are lost among the anxious buzzing that’s filled my skull. I look around quickly as the two administrators head out onto the stage as the curtain rises, and my heart jumps into my throat. Tori’s not here.

My heart hammers in my chest, instincts shrieking like a klaxon. Where is she? Why can’t I see her? She was right beside me when we were walking in; I know she was, because I remember hearing the clack of her heels against the floor. But somewhere along the way, she left. Why would she do that?

But I don’t have any time to search, not as I hear my name over the speakers, announcing me and my teammates. I push the worry to the back of my mind as best as I can, slapping on a smile I hope doesn’t come off as fake. The stage lights are hot, but not bright enough to fully blind me. I scan the crowd of tiny, smiling faces, all of their eyes bright and looking at me with a mixture of awe and excitement. As I look to the back, waving as I take a seat beside Wyatt, I notice the cameras, at least half a dozen of them all emblazoned with a logo for a different local news station. And nestled among them is the face I’d been searching for.

My mind quiets instantly now that I know Tori is safe, and I can watch over her even from a distance. It occurs to me that I’m always a little calmer when she’s within my line of vision, or if I know she’s watching me. It makes it easier to joke with my teammates, to put on silly voices as we read the picture books the students voted on for this event, and to answer the innocent questions from each kid brave enough to step up to the microphone. Because I’m not performing for an audience.

I’m performing for her. Even if she doesn’t know it.

And when it’s over, and we’re jumping down from the stage and taking our seats behind a folding table for a quick autograph session, I don’t have a chance to panic over losing sight of her in the crowd. One minute, she’s chatting with the reporters, and the next, I smell her behind me, sweet tea and magnolias floating in the air before she rests her hand against my upper back, the brush of her ponytail against the bare skin of my neck like a static shock down my spine and into my cock.

“Good job, Ace. That was perfect,” she whispers in my ear.

I shiver involuntarily, messing up my signature ever so slightly on the photo I’d been autographing. But I freeze entirely when her hand slides up my back as she stands, subtly twirling a longer piece of my hair around her finger before she moves away. After I push the photo back to the grinning student, I turn to find her still standing behind me, leaning back against the edge of the stage with a soft smile on her face as she takes everything in. I want to ask her about what she just did, but I’m pulled back to the line of eager fans wanting me to sign anything they put in front of me.

My skin tingles for the rest of the signing, which might be a top contender for the longest hour of my life. I’m so grateful for the quiet once Tori and I are back in the cab of my SUV that I’m tempted to let that intimate touch pass unremarked upon. But my instincts get the better of me after only a few minutes.

“If you wanted to run your hands through my hair, you need only ask,chérie,” I comment lowly into the silence of the car.

I keep my eyes on the road, her glare on the side of my face like a brand. And despite my best efforts, I can’t help when one of the corners of my mouth lifts in a smirk.

“Don’tchérieme, Oliver. You were eye-fucking me again. And in a room full of kids, too. Absolutely shameless,” she retorts, her words peppered with exasperated sighs.

As we come to a stop at a redlight, I glance over at her with my eyebrows raised. “You don’t have an American accent,” I say, words coming out before I can stop them.

Her glare softens a little as she lifts her chin proudly. “Damn right, I don’t have an American accent,” she fires back in perfect French.

I let out a bark of a laugh, still smiling as the light turns green and we take off again. “And for your information, I wasn’t eye-fucking you today,” I say after the chuckles have subsided.

“So you admit you were doing it last night!” she hollers in triumph.

I chuckle, this time my pitch lower, darker as heat flares in my lower belly. “I never denied it. And trust me. Eye-fucking isn’t the only type of fucking I want to give you, princess.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her go stock still, her jaw hanging open slightly as she stares at me. For a fraction of a moment, I fear I might have gone too far, but then seconds tick by in silence. There’s no rejection or objections being thrown my way, and I press my advantage before she can recover. I reach a hand over the center console and place it on her thigh, my fingers long enough to brush against the sensitive flesh on the inside. Her skirt has ridden up, and I nearly lose myself in the feeling of her soft flesh under my palm. My pinky is still several inches from the apex, but I can feel the heat radiating from her core. She whimpers a little as I squeeze, her whole body shivering in response.

“Eli passed his try-out, I’ve been told. And I’m eager for my chance to…make the team. If you’ll have me,” I mutter, hardly paying attention to the GPS anymore. It could take me to the gates of Hell, for all I care, as long as I didn’t have to stop touching the gorgeous omega in my passenger seat.

“I…you what?” Tori gasps, words distant.

I brace myself for her to come to her senses, to push me away and tell me to fuck off even as my hand creeps up her thigh until I can brush the outside of my pinky against the crotch of her panties, purring lowly when I realize how damp they are.Jesus fucking Christ on a motorbike.

“Eli told me about your night together. How he made you come three times before he even got undressed. He can be quite the gentleman when the mood strikes him,” I say, words silky smooth and just barely vibrating with a sub-audible alpha purr.

Tori tilts her hips forward slightly, and I chuckle. God, she’s perfect. I’ve barely touched her, and she’s already melting like butter in my hands. I want to pull over and give her a few of those other methods of fucking, to show her that Eli’s not the only one who can make her see stars.

My eyes land on a parking garage, not the one attached to the arena, and the hand still on my steering wheel slides toward my blinker, ready to commit and give in to the instincts clawing their way through my chest and mind.

But then the air shatters with the sound of my phone ringing through the car speakers, Elijah’s name filling the small screen in my dashboard.

Tori jumps under my hand and flinches back, and I withdraw my hand to slam my thumb on the answer button.

“What?” I growl with more aggression than I’d intended.

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