Chapter 66
CONNOR
Wren is with her girls. We’re back at training. Everything is fine.
It’s. All. Fine.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll truly believe it.
Except for the small detail that I’m a jittery mess, fighting the urge to rush to the locker room in order to check my phone every time there’s a break between drills.
Doesn’t matter that I’m sweating buckets, I’m itching to know if our girl is okay.
Not to mention, I’m back training alongside Ace.
If I’m not thinking about Wren, I’m thinking about him and at this point I’m lucky a rugby ball hasn’t hit me in the fucking face thanks to how distracted I am.
Finch Murphy is an evil motherfucker. It’s like he can tell something is up and is determined to make us all bleed from our eyeballs.
Today feels worse than preseason conditioning.
Each time Cap or Coach calls out a new drill, he gets this glint in his eye, smirks and adds on extra reps and sets.
They’re just as sadistic, clearly enjoying the opportunity to watch us all transform from being grown-ass men reduced to dehydrated slugs inching across the pitch in search of water.
“Last set,” Murph yells. How he can still find a pep in his step isn’t normal.
“Pretty sure the last set was three sets ago,” Gus croaks beside me. He’s down on one knee, wiping sweat out of his eyes. I’m crouched on my haunches, trying to suck down big gulps of oxygen. Are those black spots in my vision?
“Pair up. Forwards on forwards. Backs on backs. Grappling with someone you haven’t partnered with yet.” Cap squirts water over his hair, then shakes it out. “If I catch anyone going easy, we’ll be running it again.”
Oh, great.
My eyes lift to Ace.
Out of all the backline players, the two of us haven’t gone one-on-one for drills today.
It’s not like I’ve purposely avoided him so far.
More like, I simply don’t know how to act around him.
My stomach kicks up with butterflies at the prospect of being tangled together while all sweaty and exhausted.
Things like tackling, grabbing fistfuls of each other’s training kit, and intimate touching between the two of us…
yeah, all of that tosses me straight back to memories of Wren’s heat.
He jerks his head, beckoning me to a space where we’ll be able to get into position without crashing into other bodies. There’s an expression on his face that can only mean let’s get this over with.
We haven’t talked about it. Not for lack of wanting to on my part, but genuinely because it hasn’t felt like the right time.
I’m not gonna be that clingy, needy motherfucker who insists on having a delicate conversation over coffee at six a.m. Certainly not about the reason why rubbing our dicks together made me come so hard I nearly passed out.
After going through so many days in Wren’s nest, playing a match, and being dead on my feet, there was no explanation for why doing what we did had such an explosive impact.
No logical explanation, at least.
Sure, I know why it was a powerful moment for me. Yet, it still defies belief that a simple crush could have me unloading and gasping for air like I’d been starved for physical contact for years. Not like an Alpha who had come so many times he’d lost count in the previous days.
Coach blows his whistle, and it’s on.
I don’t have time to overthink it. Our bodies collide.
His scent of sweat and smoke and citrus is addictive.
It makes me want to bury my nose in the crook of his shoulder and lick a long line up his tattooed neck.
To bite at his perfect goddamn jaw. To taste the salt on his skin while inhaling the masculine essence of him.
Even though I might have a slight advantage over him in the height department, Ace is broader through the shoulders.
His physique is fucking impressive, and it only makes my brain stall knowing what lies underneath. Brown skin. Tattoos. Defined muscles.
Being the end of today’s training, we’re both so exhausted, all I can hear are our panting breaths and grunts as we fight for dominance. With any other teammate this would be nothing at all. No different to a match or any regular moment at training. I’d feel nothing more than the drive to win.
With Ace? Having him so close, physically… to be tangled together like this… to be pressed so close I can sense every heavy breath as his chest rises and falls and his hands bunch in my shirt… yeah, I don’t know if I can focus on anything but need.
Time slows right fucking down, and we’re shoving each other back and forth, torsos pressed together, arms wrapped around each other.
My pulse fucking thunders in my ears, and the only question racing through my mind is whether he feels this too.
Does Ace feel even a fraction of what I’m experiencing, or was it all just about Wren?
When he kissed me so fiercely and stroked us together, was he doing it for her… or for us?
Fuck.
The next minute, my legs are swept out from under me.
The asshole gets the jump on me, and we both go down in a heap.
Ace pins me to the ground, his heavy weight blankets me, and we’re nose to nose, fucking gasping for air.
His hazel eyes meet mine, flickering wildly back and forth seeming to search my own, and they’re fucking burning.
My nostrils flare taking in a powerful fresh wave of his scent that hits me like a surging tide, and we’re both frozen.
I can’t drag my eyes away from his, and he doesn’t make any attempt to shift off me.
God, I love the feel of him pressing me into the grass, surrounded by the scents of him and earthiness and morning dew.
I can’t get enough of his strong hands pulling at my shirt, of his hips pressed flush against mine, of his heat radiating into my bones.
As much as I shouldn’t imagine it, I can’t help myself.
This is what it would be like. This is how it would feel to be pinned under him and I already know exactly what it looks like when this man fucks.
I’ve been unable to stop thinking about all his muscles bunching and flexing, the indents of his ass moving in time with every punch forward of his hips.
Jesus Christ. I’m so beyond screwed. I want him so badly and I’m terrified of messing everything up with our pack if I admit that.
There could be a goddamn apocalypse happening around us for all I know right now, not forty sweaty men wrestling each other on a rugby pitch.
Ace’s gaze drills into me while my heart squeezes and flops around inside my chest. Then the impossible happens. His focus dips to my mouth, pupils dilating rapidly, as he watches me hastily wet my lips.
“Con…” His throaty rasp shoots straight to my dick. A shuddering breath escapes both of us at the same time as his powerful grip on me tightens.
A long whistle blast intrudes on the moment.
Ace rears back, resting on his knees, before dragging a hand over his hair. Yeah, I don’t want to look too hard at what his expression might be saying as he sits on his heels. Don’t want to risk seeing a hint of regret there, or sorry, bro, I just don’t think of you that way.
I can’t help but look away. My face is already hot from running so hard all morning, but I don’t need to be caught turning into a tomato while I’m at it.
While I’m prepared to sit here and start undoing my boot laces under the guise of catching my breath, a big hand—that familiar swallow tattoo I’ve looked at a million times—fills my vision. Ace stands over me, lingers there, waiting for me to take his outstretched palm.
“C’mon, Scotland,” Ace grunts.
As I puff out a breath to disguise my erratic heartbeat, I shake my head and then grab hold. He hauls me to my feet like I’m a fucking feather. How very strong he is… yeah, that’s sexy, damn it.
Murphy whistles casually, interrupting any further eye contact incidents from making a reappearance.
“Good to have you back with us. No more getting yourself injured this season, asshole.” He slaps Ace on the back.
“Turns out you leave big shoes to fill in that starting fifteen. They could’ve driven a bus through the holes in our defense at times.
Renfro had so many spot tackles to make, we all thought he was gonna pass out on his feet. ”
I sift my fingers through my hair. Sure. It was because I had to cover everyone’s asses as the last tackler. That’s why I was struggling. Not because of any other reason starting with W and ending in ren Murphy.
“Yeah, all clear now on the HIA front,” Ace coughs into his fist.
“We’re just lucky the entire fucking lot of you didn’t catch whatever Brennan had that knocked him out from making it to the game at all.”
Ace and I exchange a quick glance.
“Heard he was lying low and didn’t want to risk passing on some brutal stomach flu to the rest of the team. Hopefully he didn’t give it to anyone... I’m sure he tried his hardest.”
Something catches in my throat, and I start spluttering. Do not think about Theo giving it hard to Finch Murphy’s little sister.
“The guy certainly puts his money where his mouth is,” Murph says.
Ace thumps me between the shoulder blades as I choke harder. Do not think about Theo’s mouth on her pussy.
“The way that dude is the ultimate team player.”
I’m gonna burst a blood vessel for sure. Team player, indeed, when he held Wren, playing with her nipples while I knotted her.
“Either of you need a ride to Brennan’s place?”
“Nope,” we echo in sync.
“We’re good, Murph. Thanks for the offer, though. Appreciate it, man. Text you later?” Ace bumps elbows with Murph, and they start walking in the direction of the showers. He throws a look back at me over his shoulder, eyebrow arched.
I hold up both hands in apology while grimacing.
Yeah… we definitely need to have a talk.
We get back to the house and it’s just me and Ace, alone. Together.