Page 71 of Scrum Heat

But I’ll find out. And when I do, they’redone.

I don’t care who it is—some jealous intern, a loose-canon admin, even Marcus himself. If they think they can come for Frankie and get away with it, they’ve got another thing coming. Because if someone’s trying to break her down from the inside—if they’re trying to ruin the thing that’s making this team, makingus, better?

Then it’s not just my problem, it’sourproblem.

They want a grudge match?Fine. But they picked the wrong fucking omega.

And when Frankie’s watching from the sidelines this weekend, phone camera in hand and trust in her eyes, I’m not just going to beat Marcus Vale. I’m going to crush every smug, shit-eating smile off his face until heknowsthat nobody touches what’s ours.

And if I happen to flash a little thigh while doing it, well.

Let’s call that for what it is:public service.

*

I finish my cooldown and head for the showers, towel slung around my neck, water bottle tucked under one arm. There’s no music playing in my headphones now: I’m just surrounded by the sound of my own breath, the steady drip of the showers, and the hum of a facility most people forget has a keycode.

Days like these, I like it better this way: quiet, controlled.

I’m just stepping out of the stall, hair wet, abs dripping, towel slung low on my hips, when the door creaks open.

I freeze. Then:

“Shit—sorry—”

Frankie.

She’s halfway into the room already, her face flushed, dark eyes wide. Her Alderbridge hoodie is askew, lips parted and high ponytail falling slightly to one side.

I blink. She blinks.

My abs glisten. Her pupils dilate.

She looks.Immediatelylooks. Drops her gaze to the towel, flicks up to my chest, then higher still—as if she’s hoping I didn’t notice.

Butoh, Idefinitelynoticed.

“You’re—oh,” she stammers. “You’re here.”

“I am,” I say, slow and easy, grabbing the edge of the towel with both hands—and making absolutely no effort to do anything helpful with it. “Lucky you.”

She swallows. “I thought everyone had gone home after training this morning.”

“Most did.” I step closer, and her shoulders straighten slightly. “I don’t like distractions when I’m working out.”

She snorts. “That’s the biggest lie I’ve heard all week.”

My grin spreads. “Is it?”

“You love distractions,” she says, folding her arms. “Youarea distraction. You stretch like it’s a performance and wink at your reflection between sets.”

I lift a shoulder. “Gotta keep morale high.”

“Theo, you did a whole plank circuit shirtless in front of the physio room window.”

“Coincidence.”

“You narrated it in third person.”

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