Page 43 of Always, Axel

“Goddammit, Axel.” Roman was there with Nick at his side, both grappling at Axel’s shoulders, and they finally managed to rip him away from Trey.

Running his hand over his neck, Trey gingerly sat up, breathing heavily. “Your boy needs help.”

Axel struggled to get out of their hold. “I’m about to help myself by beating the shit out of you.”

“Go on, Trey.” Nick nodded solemnly toward the locker room. Trey raised his hands in resignation but had a faint smirk on his face, despite what happened, and eyed me before he went to the locker room.

“I’ll kill him. I swear I will,” Axel fumed, still trying to break out of their hold.

“Get it together, man,” Roman gritted out.

After a few more moments of struggle, Axel seemed to relent.

“Come on, Axe. Let’s take a walk and cool off,” Nick said calmly. “We have media all around us, and we don’t want to be part of the circus. Not like that. No distractions, remember?”

Axel ran his tongue over his teeth and eventually nodded slowly as he watched me like a predator and backed away, letting Nick guide him. I watched them as they disappeared down the corridor.

“What the hell happened?” Roman asked me, with brows drawn together. “Was Lomas bothering you?”

“No.” I was still shocked by what happened, and Roman intimidated me. He wasn’t personable at all, and he always looked semi-pissed off when he was at practice or in a game. In fact, he’d never said a word to me the whole season.

“You sure?” he pressed.

“I swear.”

“Huh.” Roman scratched his chin as if he were miffed. “That doesn’t add up. Axel never loses his shit. That’s not his personality. He usually drives people crazy, but he never goes ham on someone.” Roman seemed to be having a conversation with himself.

“Maybe he’s having a bad day?” I offered.

Roman shrugged, and a partial smile began to materialize. “Maybe he is, but that fucker never has a bad day.”

Axel

“What happened?” Nick asked as we walked down an empty corridor.

“Nothing. That joker was trying to piss me off.” I couldn’t tell Nick that I’d lost my control and bailed out of an interview to chase that fucker Lomas down and choke his ass out. That shit was certifiable wasn’t it?

“What’d he do? Threaten you or something? It takes a lot to get under your skin.”

Dammit. He knew me better than anyone, and anything I said would sound stupid. I exhaled. “A lapse in judgment. But I’m straight, man. Like you said, I shouldn’t let distractions get to me.”

He had an enigmatic look on his face. “Okay, buddy. If we walk back to the locker room, you’re not going to start more shit, are you?”

Nick and his negotiator voice acting like I was a loose cannon… Nowthatwas funny. Too damn funny. Him thinking he needed to talk me off a ledge? Fuck that. “Nope. It’s in the rearview.” I couldn’t think about her. I couldn’t dwell on Trey moving in on her. If I did, I’d do something else destructive.

Something detrimental to myself and the team. I had too much at stake to fuck up my prospects or let my team down. And a rumble in the locker room would definitely leak to the press. “I had to let off some steam, but you know me. I’ve already hit the reset button.”

He peered at me before nodding. “Okay. Just keep your shit together, man.”

“It’s on lock.”

The rest of the week was the same: practice, talk to the media, five-star dinners, and media attention. This was my realm. This was where I needed to stay. Stay in my lane. In my weak moments, I’d almost clicked on my cell and texted her. Then I stopped myself.

I’d also stopped myself from taking the elevator down two flights to march to her room after dinner tonight—since I knew where she was staying. Good thing, too. Nothing good would come from that, though my dick disagreed. Thank God my brain had some say-so because my cock was voicing his opinion on a daily basis. More so than ever before. He wanted to plow that virgin pussy like nothing else.Christ, what was wrong with me?

As I lay in bed, the night before our national championship game, I tried to visualize the game and the plays our offense would call. I imagined myself taking the handoff and breaking through the line before I took off down the field for an eighty-yard run. Going over plays in my head had always been something I did before the game. It was like second nature. I always believed if you visualized your goals, they were more likely to materialize in real time. Manifest it.

However, my thoughts were drifting from what I knew I needed to be thinking about. All I could see was Natalie moaning as she touched herself. How her cheeks flushed and her eyes closed as she focused on her pleasure. How her delicate pink tongue peaked out over her lips when she was on the brink of an orgasm. How she came so hard, leaving a wet spot on her panties. Dammit. My desire to find out how her pussy would taste and feel overruled any other rational thoughts, and I mentally kicked myself for not taking what I wanted and tasting her when I had the chance.

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