Page 36 of There's No Us Without You
“What?” He lifts a shoulder. “Everyone knows Coach is making you wear a chastity belt these days. She’s free game.”
A growl leaves my throat, and I take a step towards him. “And you’ll be without a head if you so much as breathe in her direction.”
Bloody hell. Now I sound like Coach and his threats.
Carter snorts as a sly smirk creeps onto his face. “You’ve got it bad, Cap. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I clench my fists at my sides. He’s lucky I’m a lover and not a fighter, because if he was pushing anyone other than me right now, he’d be racing to the dentist to get his front teeth put back in that head of his.
I swear to god, it’s like herding children with this lot.
“Move it, Carter, before I bench you.”
Not that I actually have any say in who gets benched. But a threat like that usually has one pulling themselves into line. Like me, for example.
The threat does nothing to Carter, though, the grin on his face growing wider. He even has the audacity to wave at Eden as he walks backwards towards the centre of the field.
Fuck my life.
Before I join the others in their warmup, I glance over my shoulder towards the stands. Eden catches my eye and smiles, giving me a small wave.
Goddamn, she’s cute as fuck in that oversized T-shirt and jeans, her hair piled on top of her head.
I’d grab hold of it if I could. Tilt her head back to expose her neck. Close my eyes and breathe her in, savouring her scent. Then I’d press my lips lightly to the skin just above her pulse point and revel in the feel of what my touch does to her heart rate.
But no. The best I can do at the moment is jerk off in the shower.
God, please kill me now. I won’t even beg for my life.
Coach is right, though. Bringing her here was a terrible decision if I ever had one. Almost all the boys on the team keep glancing her way and showing off more than usual.
And all I can do is suffocate in the grave I dug for myself.
Once warmup is done, Coach puts us through the regular drills. My knee feels okay, the painkillers doing their job, so I push myself a little further, tapering off when it protests.
No-one notices. At least I don’t think they do.
Every now and again, I glance up into the stands. Eden hasn’t taken her eyes from the field—or me. She’s leaning forward, her elbows resting on her thighs, her hands under her chin, as though I’m the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
I don’t mind—it means she’s not interested in any of these arsehats.
When we finish the session two hours later, we’re all downing a drink while some of the guys get into conversation about their weekend. Sam is rattling on about the woman he picked up on Saturday night—details I’m not interested in, down to the colour of her nipples, and the tattoo you can only see when she’s naked.
Did she have child-bearing hips, too?
“What did you get up to de Silva?” Terry lifts his chin my way while squirting water into his mouth.
A few droplets slip down his chin and onto his bare chest. It’s not as impressive as Will’s tattooed chest, but he’s nice to look at all the same.
Fuck me. I’ve lost my focus—once again daydreaming about my best friend while staring at one of my teammates.
“Obviously nothing compared to Sam,” I say, plastering a grin on my face as I smack him in the chest with the back of my hand. “What colour were her knickers, Sammy?”
Sam scrunches up his nose and wipes the sweat from his forehead with his shirt. “What?”
“Her underwear, dipshit. What colour?” I wait for him to respond, eyebrows raised, knowing full well he’s talking out his arsehole.
My suspicions are confirmed when Sam’s face turns a bright shade of pink, reaching the tops of his ears. “What does it matter?” he says, kicking a ball at me.
