Chapter Nine #2
I got lost in my thoughts while he grunted and worked. And when I lifted my gaze to the mirror he was facing, I found his eyes were locked to mine.
My cheeks burst into flames. He had watched me undress him with my eyes.
He had witnessed my careless examination of the thirst trap that he was.
Damn him. I half believed he’d been doing all this intentionally just to provoke me.
Nobody was so meticulously sexy while working out.
Where were the embarrassing growls? Where was the rank sweat?
Where was a red face with blood-shot eyes to make him unappealing?
To hell with Beckett Partridge and his perfect physique.
It was a curse to have a nemesis who looked so good pouting as Beckett did.
And it was a curse always to have to remind myself just how nasty and rude this guy was in order to kill the sparks of attraction. “I think I’m done,” I said in a husky voice, eyes never leaving his. He turned to look at me instead of watching me in the mirror, then nodded.
We went back to the locker room and stripped to our underwear.
“That was productive,” Beckett mused to himself.
His boxer briefs were a paler shade of blue with a darker waistband and seams. He picked up a towel from his locker and tossed it over his sculpted chest. One hand rested on his chiseled abs and I wanted to roll my eyes.
The truth was, the anger I felt was directed at myself.
I had no reason to look, but I looked anyway.
A fine layer of perspiration glistened on his skin, yet he still smelled fucking delicious. Spicy, earthy, and with a slight note of citrus. It was infuriating that he should smell so good after an hour and a half of sweating in a gym.
I dragged my gaze across his body to meet his eyes. “Sure was. I’m dead.”
He sniffed. His hand moved over his abs like it was a habit he had no control over.
Beckett was one of those guys who always touched themselves.
His hands were constantly feeling something on his body.
He would always tuck one under a T-shirt and scratch at his abs.
Worse still, he had often absent-mindedly rested his hand on his crotch when sitting.
All these little instances poured back into my head and I felt the blush creep into my face.
I wished I wore more than just my black boxer briefs.
He chuckled softly and darkly.
“What?” I growled.
It was a mistake. He had been waiting for me to ask.
He gave a guileless shrug, the corners of his lips ticking a little up.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just flattered.” He let the silence strangle me for a few heartbeats.
“Feast your eyes, Jones. Doesn’t bother me.
” His cool gaze lingered on me for a moment, then he spun away and strolled into the shower.
He let his hips swing alluringly, opened the door of one free shower stall, hooked his towel on the outside, and then provoked a fresh wave of murder fantasies when he pulled his underwear down to his ankles and stepped out of them.
This wasn’t the first time I saw Beckett’s naked ass. I’d never cared to notice it before, but he’d gone naked through the locker room countless times. We all had. But today, he was teasing me on a whole new level.
I hadn’t tolerated his remarks before and I had made that clear. This, however, was a new kind of diabolical. In proving how little he cared about my sexuality, Beckett tormented me in ways he couldn’t even imagine.
In truth, the joke was on him. I had effectively killed every trace of desire for Beckett Partridge within the first twenty-four hours of knowing him.
On the day I had arrived at the team house, Beckett had been among the first guys I’d laid my eyes on.
And I had thought he was breathtakingly handsome.
The rude dismissal that met me had helped me sever every thought of Beckett’s good looks for two full years.
And I could tap into that anger once again.
After all, I wasn’t interested in fucking straight brats with a superiority complex, no matter how soft the skin on their butts seemed and how tight they were.
There was more to sex than the repetitive grinding.
And Beckett had never deserved an ounce of effort on my part, even if he had been into me.
I spared myself further embarrassment by quickly showering and packing up before he was even out.
But luck wasn’t on my side today any more than it had been this whole semester.
Beckett strolled out with a towel around his waist and drops of water still on his shoulders and pecs before I could gather everything.
Seeing his smug smirk reminded me of what I had wanted to sort out with him.
I tossed the duffel over my shoulder and focused on his face. “You should know that half the dissatisfaction on the team comes from your rigid rules. The guys are becoming bored of you acting like their aunt.”
The smirk melted away in place of the frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you should go back to how things used to be. Do some bonding time with the team. Hit the bar. Don’t count everyone’s cans or track who’s staying out late.” I lifted my chin in defiance of all the displeasure I expected from him.
He just pouted. “What do you know?” he said under his breath.
“I know this; if you treat people like adults, they’ll act like adults. Keep treating our teammates like a gang of lawless teenagers; they’ll never show you any better behavior.” I sighed. “For once, I’m not saying something to rub your nose in it, Partridge.”
He considered, a hand reaching to the back of his shoulder, scratching a little, then sliding over the middle of his wet torso. “In that case, thank you for your input.”
I scoffed. “Suit yourself, man.”
He made a step toward me. “I’ll think about it, alright? I see your point. I’m not sure I agree, but I see it. What more do you want?”
“Nothing,” I said flatly. I wanted nothing. “See you at practice.”
Before I left the locker room, I wanted to blind myself.
The curiosity, the desperate inquisitiveness of my damned eyes, forced me to look over my shoulder at Beckett.
He had untied the towel and stood freely, legs spread, rubbing the short hair of his armpits dry.
He was turning away from me when I looked, but not before I saw his thick cock and smooth, heavy balls disappearing from sight behind one leg.
And when I looked up, his eyes were still on me, and a knowing look told me he had been expecting this.
I walked away as quickly as I could without seeming like I was running.