Chapter 28
GRAYSON
When I step out of my car, people are staring. Some are blatantly gawking while filming us. Alvarez hasn’t moved.
“You coming, sweetheart?”
“Um, yeah,” she whispers.
How is this the same girl who roughs up players twice her size? I’ve seen her play, she’s only 5’3”, but she’s intimidating on the pitch. Tiny and ferocious and impressive. She hasn’t allowed one goal score this season.
All that without being a dirty player. But she’s smart, lighting fast, and isn’t afraid to body up.
I walk around my car and open her door. People gather closer to see who’s inside.
The first thing I notice is those gloriously thick thighs. I wonder what they’d feel like around my waist, or better yet, my head. When she takes the hand I offer, I get the perfect view of her perfect tits. It’s going to be a long fucking night.
I hear her mumbling to herself.
“We just need to do this for Big Mike and we never have to talk to each other ever again after tonight.”
Perhaps not so long after all. My good mood shifts to something darker. I’m not offended though. She’s allowed not to like me like I don’t like her.
“Right?”
Was she talking to me? “Excuse me?”
She steps out of my car and proceeds to nearly trip into my arms. I hold her waist and keep her upright.
I notice her dress is soft but thin. I can feel the heat of her skin through the gauze-like material.
“Sorry, thank you,” she says blushing so prettily, I don’t want to release my hold. But soon enough I realize what I’m doing and step back.
“You alright?”
“Yeah. Everyone’s looking.”
I forget about them when my gaze travels down the tempting curves of her body. In this moment, I’m actually relieved she doesn’t like me. She might be the kind of girl who makes you break and forget every rule.
That’s when I spot the culprit. Her shoelace is untied. I take a knee at her feet to tie it.
“What are you doing!?”
Still on one knee I glance up at her. An annoyed look overtakes her features. That look I know. She’s about to roll her eyes any second. Back on familiar territory, I smirk up at her.
“I’m helping my girl,” I reply, taking my time. “Give me your foot.”
“What? No!” she gasps, eventually relenting when I tip my head, reminding her of the people watching.
“Rhodes.”
“Alvarez.”
She glares at me. I know why. This dress is too fucking short and my face is too fucking close to a place it has no business being near to.
“I’m being nice to you,” I say, throwing her words back at her. It’s the reason she relents, lifting her foot onto my bent knee. I tie her shoelace, keeping my eyes on her. Looking anywhere else is dangerous.
“There,” I say, smirking up at those green eyes. Her lips part in surprise, but I stand before I can think about what it means.
“Thank you,” she says, voice soft and shy.
“No problem.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“‘Course I did,” I smirk. “Can’t have my date tripping into some other guy’s arms.”
“You’re a dork,” she smiles, her eyes twinkling before shifting away from mine. “Everyone’s looking at you.”
“Trust me, sweetheart,” I say, shaking my head. “They’re not looking at me.” Not with her in that dress.
She arches an eyebrow.
“No one knows who I am.”
I step closer.
“Which is why they’re curious.” I look her up and down. Not because I want to but because I would if this was real. Her cheeks flush and I close the distance between us.
“People forget we have a soccer team,” she blurts out.
I can’t help it, I chuckle at her outlandish claim. Even if people didn’t know Tower Lake had a men’s and women’s team, they would remember her.
“I’m serious,” she insists. “We have so many fundraisers because the school doesn’t give our program any money. By the way, want to buy a ticket for the spring dance?”
I think she’s cracking jokes, but my laughter dies. That doesn’t make any sense.
“You’re the defending champions—I follow all our school’s teams,” I explain when she gives me a look I don’t appreciate.
“Back-to-back champions,” she smiles.
“Nice.”
“It is,” she nods with an air of confidence that she needs for tonight.
“However you’re feeling?” I say. “Hold on to that. That’s how we get through this.”
“Soccer is so different from dating. Even the fake kind,” she whispers the last two words.
“Not really.” I cross my arms over my chest. “There’s always someone who wants to score,” I grin and she smacks my arm.
I’m getting sidetracked. Clearing my throat, I ask, “Is that why your apartment was full of bread?”
“Yes?”
She’s squirming, I’m smirking. “You don’t sound sure.”
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not promising anything.”
“Dude,” she huffs, but I can tell she’s fighting back a smile.
“Hey,” I lift her chin with my thumb and index finger. Her expression changes, morphing into a look of interest. I only allow it because we’re supposed to be on a date. The way she’s looking at me, no one around can possibly doubt this is real.
I clear my throat. “Tell me.”
“I bake when I’m nervous, okay?”
Does she?
“Like before a midterm or final or when we’re playing a big game.”
“You’re telling me I could’ve gotten freshly baked bread at your place before midterms this whole time?”
She snorts. “I always drop some off at Gibson Place.” Her smile shrinks, then disappears entirely. “You’re never there when I show up.”
That’s on purpose. If I hear she’s on her way, I’m gone. If she makes a surprise visit, I make it a point to leave.
“You can text me next time,” I offer, which is a stupid thing to say. “I’ll be sure to be there.”
“Yeah, okay,” she shrugs, but for some reason I relax when she smiles again.
“You’re really selling tickets to a dance?”
“Yes. Want one? I forgot all about it and haven’t sold any.”
She tucks some hair behind her ear.
“Sure,” I say.
She stands up straight. “Are you serious?”
I nod. “I’ll take one for every player on the baseball team.”
Her eyes are wide. “They’re too expensive.”
“You want to sell these tickets or not?”
“Rhodes, no,” she shakes her head. “Each ticket costs $250!” she adds, slightly alarmed.
“I see.”
“Yeah,” she sighs, rolling her eyes.
“In that case, give me about ten extra for the coaching staff, too. So, a total of fifty.”
“What?! No, no! That’s thousands of dollars!”
“I know how to multiply, Alvarez.” I can’t help grin at her shocked expression. “You ready?” I ask.
“No, I’m not ready and no, you’re not buying that many tickets,” she laughs, shaking her head. Nerves and doubt overtake her thoughts because next thing I know, she’s muttering, “This isn’t going to work! No one’s going to believe we’re here together. Not you and me. Not on an actual date.”
“Why not?” I ask the question as I step closer.
Panic fills her eyes when I invade her personal space. She takes a step back, hitting my car with her ass. One corner of my mouth twitches upward.
“Keep your eyes on me,” I order and she does. The green looks darker, more intense. I couldn’t look away if I tried. “Now use your hands, sweetheart.”
I place my own on either side of her waist, touching the car, but not her body. Not sure she’s breathing anymore.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
“You didn’t ask,” she croaks, but she’s smiling.
“Selena—”
She shivers before her hand flies up to cover my mouth. “Don’t,” she warns.
“Or else?” I speak against her fingertips. Her palm is soft and smooth. I’m tempted to place wet kisses against her skin. She shivers again.
I move away, taking off my jacket to place around her shoulders. I’m not surprised she’s cold in that tiny excuse for a dress.
“Better?”
She looks up at me with big green eyes. “Yes.”
Tonight’s not supposed to be fun. But I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy it.
SELENA
I let my hand fall away to reveal a dangerous smirk curving his lips. Even as he puts his jacket around me, I keep looking at his mouth. His lips were so soft. Warm too. I have the desperate urge to trace the shape of them.
I really don’t like how he’s looking at me. Like he knows what I’m thinking. Like he doesn’t mind that I’m thinking it either.
“Was that so hard?” he asks.
I shake my head no, ashamed that I enjoyed the feel of his lips against my skin. Both this time and the quick kiss after the game.
I blink those thoughts away knowing that in order for this fake date to work, I need to appear comfortable touching him. Doesn’t matter that the times I have are few and far between. I can count them on one hand.
“You’re okay with this?” I ask, inhaling slowly as I let my palms settle carefully on his abdomen. I feel his chest expand with an intake of breath and I consider pulling away.
“So long as you’re okay, I’m okay,” he replies and I’m surprised by the sweet sentiment.
It’s the boost I need to slide my hands up the hard planes of his stomach. I’m tempted to lift his shirt to expose the grooves and muscle I’m feeling, enjoying, savoring. And I’m doing so all without hesitation or shame.
“You look impressed, Alvarez.”
Busted.
“Nope,” I lie, the p popping. I keep my eyes away from his. I have to. Because if I see his reaction, I know I’ll get nervous all over again. “Just getting used to having my hands on you.” They slide from his abdomen up to his chest. And sweet baby Jesus, Grayson feels incredible.
Right now, if anyone asked me the names of my favorite MMCs in any of my books back home, I wouldn’t be able to remember a single one. What I do recall is that they’re usually described as “carved by the gods” and now I know exactly what that means. And exactly what that feels like.
“I’m allowed to do the same?”
His voice brings me back from the trance I’d fallen into. Our eyes meet.
“What do you mean?”
“Have my hands on you.”
A strange warmth envelops me.
“Oh, um…” The statement takes me by surprise. I blink a couple of times, trying to process his words because the idea of Grayson Rhodes touching me short circuits my brain. “I didn’t think—” I pause, still meeting his gaze. I almost wither under the intensity of it. “Do you want to?”
I have no idea why I asked that question. Of course he doesn’t want to.
His blue eyes are on mine and there’s a violent storm at sea raging in them. I should look away before I drown, before I’m lost forever, but it’s impossible.
“If you were my girlfriend,” he replies, his voice is low and raw, charging the space between us. “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
Oh.
Feels like the wind got knocked out of me.
“Right,” I nod with an absurdly forced smile. That’s my only reply, the only word I manage to come up with.
I don’t ask if he means me specifically or a girlfriend in general. I don’t want to know the answer to that because I’m desperately curious to know the specifics.
Anyway, I’m sure I’m overthinking this. Even I’m not delusional enough to think anything remotely romantic can happen between us.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I add, finding my voice.
“Anything goes?”
I glare at him because he keeps tripping me up. I barely collect my thoughts when he throws a freaking curveball at me.
Oh my god, did I just make a baseball reference? Whatever. He’s probably just messing with me. Trying to see how long before I snap. Guess what, pretty boy, I can go as far as you dare.
“Anything and everything goes,” I confirm.
The slow smile curving his lips might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. A twisted knot of desire and confusion starts at my core, igniting something I wasn’t prepared to experience.
I blink the lust away. Because I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he’s having on me. It’s why I roll my eyes as dramatically as possible before I snap, “Let’s go already.”
“Hold up, Alvarez,” he says as I try to push past him.
His right arm slips around my waist positioning me in front of him, his chest flush against my back. His other hand settles along the curve of my hip, while his lips brush the shell of my ear. I freeze as a small gasp escapes me.
“You and me?” he whispers, “We got this.”
Heat pools low in my belly and warm shivers dance along my spine.
I don’t know why, but I believe him. Honestly, I think I’d believe anything he said right now. The thought should frighten me, but for some reason, when I turn my head to look into his eyes, I’m not scared at all.
“Okay,” I exhale, smiling with an unlikely mixture of confidence and nerves swirling in the pit of my stomach, “We got this.”
And when I say these words, I mean them. I just hope they end up being true.