Page 19 of Red Zone
She moves to question two, but I’m not listening to anything she says.
Because for a second, her lip was caught between her teeth as she focused.
And now my brain is somewhere it shouldn’t be.
Very, very far away.
Wondering what her mouth would feel like on mine.
Wondering what those lips would feel like wrapped around my co?—
“Earth to Carter. You want to try answering that again?” she says, voice snapping me out of the spiral.
I blink.
She’s staring at me, brows arched, waiting.
And I have no idea what she just asked.
“Sorry,” I say, smiling slowly. “Got distracted.”
Her eyes narrow, sharp and suspicious. “By what?”
“Bad ideas,” I mutter.
She scoffs. “Try to keep those to a minimum for the next four quarters.”
“You offering yourself as a reward if I behave?”
She shakes her head. “If you win, you get to keep your jersey clean and your ego intact. That’s it.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
She ends the recording and takes a step back. “Good luck, Hayes.”
“I don’t need luck, Princess,” I call after her. “I’ve got motivation.”
She doesn’t turn around.
But her ponytail flicks just a little harder than necessary, and her hips sway with each step.
And yeah?—
That’ll be playing in my head the whole game.
A throat clearing behind me brings me back to the present, especially when I turn to find Coach looking right at me, a slightly graying brow raised.
He definitely just caught me staring at his daughter’s ass. Awesome.
Snap count. Motion. Hands on the laces.
I call the play, shift the formation, and take the snap.
One-one-thousand.
The pocket holds.
Two-one-thousand.
