Page 8 of Filthy Ruck

In spite of throwing myself into training, she occupied a corner of my mind, a lingering fascination coupled with the memory of her incredible body.

“There's that look again,” Frost said. He snapped his fingers in front of my face. I swatted him away, but he just grinned.

“What look?” I dabbed at my face again. Atlas had opened a scab from a past training session and the blood was still trickling.

“That distracted look,” Frost said. “Did you meet someone? Does she have a sister? Or a best friend?”

He looked like he was going to add something else, but he didn't. I suspected he was going to ask if she had a brother, but Jay wasn't the only one struggling with his sexuality. If he needed my support, he only had to ask. He was one of the better guys on the team. More easy-going than the others, even if he was almost as inclined to take a swing at someone as Atlas.

“No idea,” I admitted. “I met her at Flirts the other night, right after you left.”

Frost frowned. “You met a girl at Flirts? Was it the chick that works behind the bar? The one with boobs for days?” He held out his hands in front of his chest, at least twice the size of the woman's actual breasts.

His eyes widened slightly and he groaned. “Wait. Was she a stripper? Did she put out? Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have left when I did. I might have gotten some action too.”

A flare of annoyance in my chest had to be pushed down before I could respond. The idea of him touching my Panther made me want to take a swing at him. I had to try even harder to ignore the way my dick twitched at the thought of him fucking her while I watched.

“You left at the right time.” My voice was tight. “I didn't fuck her, we just…talked.” That was all he needed to know.

“Keller,” Coach called out to me. “Go and have that seen to.” He waved toward my face. “Don't want you bleeding all over the paddock.” As if the grass hadn't soaked up its share of blood. It had certainly seen a good amount of mine, every drop given willingly to the game I loved.

Since doing what he asked would take me away from Frost and this conversation, I nodded and replied, “Yes, Coach.”

I made to step away, but stopped when he spoke again.

“I meant what I said. Keep the bullshit for the opposition. The last thing we need is to fight amongst ourselves.”

I cut him a look. “Agreed, Coach.” No doubt he'd tear strips off Atlas when they were alone together. Between him and Jay, they were an explosion waiting to happen. One I didn't want to be in the middle of when it went off. But I would be, because I usually was.

The Smashers were my team, my family. I wasn't going to let a couple of bad eggs ruin that for us or for our fans. They'd stuck with us through the years, while we battled to get ourselves closer to the top. For them, we would. They deserved nothing less.

I nodded to the coach and trotted across the field, the grass springing under my boots. I slipped into the locker room before heading for the infirmary.

“Coach said I needed to…”

I stopped in the doorway and stared.

What the absolute, ever loving fuck?

Chapter Four

Chelsea

I turnedat the sound of his voice.

I was expecting this, but not so soon. Instead of dark jeans and t-shirt, Storm was dressed in shorts and a Smashers T-shirt. His skin glistened with sweat and blood. If he looked delicious the other night at Flirts, he looked positively tasty now.

“Hi.” I greeted him with a smile before clicking over to him in my more sensible kitten heels. “Let me take a look at that.”

He jerked away from me before I could touch his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He had the sense to keep his voice down somewhat. Whether that was for his benefit or mine, I wasn't sure.

“Professional placement,” I said easily. “As part of my sports medicine degree. Don't worry, I'm a fully qualified doctor. Medical.”

“Doctor…” He echoed, eyes glazed as his brain struggled to catch up.

“Doctor Chelsea Miller.” I held out my hand to him.

He stared at it. “Chelsea Miller?”

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