Page 2 of Catching Feelings

Son of a bitch.Blood soaks through my white Revolutions T-shirt and I cover the spot with my hand so I don’t freak out the kids. It’s just a scratch but it looks like a gunshot wound. Nothing a Band-Aid and a clean shirt can’t fix.

I head toward my truck to change, and even over the loud music, I hear her laughter. It’s a sound that’s made my cock twitch for two years now. Twisting around, I catch a glimpse of shiny dark hair swaying in a high ponytail.

Fuck. I’ve imagined wrapping my hands around that hair while I fuck her from behind.

Rowan McDaniels.

Best friends with Riley and Kendall, who are married to my fellow teammates, Walker and Nash. I’ve been around Rowan enough times to call her a friend, although we’ve never spent much time together. We’re always in a group and she’s always laughing with her friends or Walker’s brother Jackson and his husband Taylor.

I’ve never been one-on-one with her, and yet that’s all I think about.

The red cross on the tent over her head is the perfect excuse to see her. My legs move before my brain registers what they’re doing. Or it could be my dick acting as a third leg, sending my body toward Rowan.

The only other person with her in the tent is a teenage girl who has her leg stretched out, resting on a makeshift bed, a bag of ice draped over her knee.

“Twenty minutes are up,” Rowan says, lifting the ice. “Don’t be a hero. If your knee bothers you again, come back and see me, or I’ll get one of the athletic trainers back to take another look.”

“I’m good. It’s just a little sore from my knee surgery a few months ago. I think I overdid it in the jumpy house.”

“You think?” Rowan bops the girl’s nose with her finger. “Don’t rush your recovery, Anastasia.”

“I won’t.”

When Anastasia leaves, I step into the tent.

“Hey, Miles. Having fun?” She gives me a quick glance as she empties the ice bag and straightens her work area.

When she bends over, giving me an epic view of her ass, I swallow and nod. “Yeah.”

Even in nursing scrubs, the woman is hot. Hell, I’ve only seen her in the baggy jerseys she wears to our games, and even then she’s gorgeous. She’d be hotter if she wasn’t wearing Bankes or Humphries on the back. It’s only because her best friends are married to Walker and Nash that I don’t tear those jerseys off her every time I see her with her friends after a game.

Fine. That’s a lie. Even if she was wearing my jersey, I’d still want to rip it off her, but only after I fucked her wearing my number, eight-six, then fucked her again wearing nothing but a smile.

“The turnout is awesome.” Rowan stands and directs her smile my way. “The kids are—Miles!” She rushes to me and places her hand on my chest. My dick swells and all my fucking dreams come true. Finally, Rowan is paying attention tome.

I reach for her face and she lifts my T-shirt up. Holy shit. Does she want to get it on right here, right now? I’m normally not big on voyeurism, but hell. What Rowan wants, Rowan gets.

“What happened? My god, you’re bleeding.”

Well, that’s a fucking ego smasher.

“Does it hurt?”

My blue balls? Hell, yeah.

“Sit down. Let me clean this out. You might need stitches.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I stare down at the back of her head as she studies me, gently touching around the gash with her fingers. Do I suck in my abs and flex a little with her hands on me and her face so close? Fuck, yeah I do.

“Let me put on gloves.”

I want to tell her we don’t need protection, that I’d like to have her bare, but my tongue is fucking tied, and I don’t get tongue tied. I’m a smooth talker. Always quick with the wit and the banter. But being alone with Rowan for the first time has me turning into a virginal fool.

My cock got the virgin memo too. One little touch from her gloved hands and it’s twitching up a storm, asking to come out and play. It’s getting harder and harder—no pun intended—to hide my reaction to her touch.

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