Chapter Fourteen
ASTON
The facility weight room smells just like the locker room in my high school back in Texas and just like the weight room at Walker University—stale sweat and the sharp chemical smell of chalk dust. It’s early in the morning the next day, and the building is pretty quiet.
Some execs and coaches come in, but most of my teammates are taking the day to recoup.
My head has been spinning since my brother’s surprise visit.
Instead of hanging around to see if Eva would accept his offer for a date, he left before the sun came up. He had to get back to Florida for a mandatory team meeting that sounded like some drama had been stirred up over the weekend.
His voice has been echoing in my head, a slow, rolling thunder that’s making my blood run hot and heavy in my veins.
I load another forty-five-pound plate onto the hex bar, the metal clanking with a snap.
My ribs are still bruised from the LA game, and my knees could use a break, but I don’t give a shit.
I need the weight. I need the physical resistance to quiet the territorial edge that has been tightening inside my chest since I noticed Ace talking to Eva on the sideline.
I step inside the bar, drop my hips, and lock my hands onto the steel bar. I pull, my teeth grinding together as two hundred fifty pounds lifts off the rubber mat, the muscles in my back tearing and rebuilding under the strain.
Mine. Not his. Mine.
I set the bar down with a heavy, controlled thud against the rubber mats, my chest heaving under my grey sleeveless shirt.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and turn to grab my water bottle, but I don’t see it.
I must have left it on the indoor practice field.
Might as well call it a day and grab my water bottle, then hit the shower.
So I turn toward the glass doors that lead to the indoor practice field and make my way down the hall.
When I push the doors open, I see Eva, her crew, and Liam.
The field is bathed in the harsh glow of overhead production lights. Eva is standing a few feet away from where Sam and Liam are seated, a clipboard in one hand and her headset pressed against her ear.
I can faintly hear Liam going through a breakdown of yesterday’s game with Sam.
But Eva is the one running the show. She stands with her feet planted, her sharp eyes tracking every movement, completely locked into that professional, authoritative rhythm I’ve watched from across the turf. She’s the architect behind the lens, managing the segment with total control.
My throat goes completely dry.
I grab my water bottle from where I’d left it, then lean my forearm against the door as I watch her.
That possessive dark heat that’s been simmered by my workout starts to flare back up to a steady roar in my head.
Ace sees her on the sideline for five minutes and thinks he can just slide back into her orbit like nothing changed.
He thinks she’s still the college girl who used to sit on his tailgate back in Oklahoma.
But looking at her now, seeing the commanding, sharp way she produces the segment, I know the truth. She’s not a memory for me. She’s a storm, and she belongs right here, in the center of the life I’m building.
As if she can feel my stare, her eyes suddenly shift. She looks away from Sam and Liam for a fracture of a second, her gaze moving toward the door and locking onto mine.
Even from thirty yards away, I see her posture stiffen. Her lips part slightly, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight of me. I don’t move. I don’t smile. I just stand there, sweat-soaked and rigid, the heavy, intense focus in my eyes speaking volumes across the empty space between us.
She must sense my mood. Maybe she knows that the visit with my brother hadn’t been easy.
I turn to leave. I need to take a shower and try to calm myself down again.
But as I walk across the field, I don’t miss the way Sam wraps up the interview with Liam when Eva gives her crew a quick hand signal to cut.
She says something into her microphone on her headset, holds a hand up to me, but I don’t wait.
The locker room is empty, the long rows of cherry wood lockers glowing under the soft recessed lighting.
I take off my shoes, strip my clothes, and set them next to my gym bag that sits on my bench, but don’t grab my clothes.
I walk straight to the shower area, turning the handle until the water is scalding hot, letting the steam fill the tiled room until the air is thick with it.
I don’t stay under the spray long. I just need to wash the sweat from my body, but the hot water isn’t doing anything to help settle me. I turn off the water, grab a heavy white towel from the stack, and sling it loosely around my waist as I step back into the room.
The heavy steel door clicks, and I hear the sound of boots echoing against the floor.
I stop in front of my locker, my feet damp, my chest bare and dripping with water, as Eva steps around the corner.
She stands a few feet away, her back pressed against the edge of the locker on the end of the row, her eyes wide as they rake over my body.
The cardigan she’s wearing is unbuttoned, revealing a soft white silk tank top underneath.
Her breathing is fast, her cheeks flushed with a heat that has nothing to do with the warm air blowing through the vents.
“Aston,” she breathes, her voice low as it cuts through the silence between us. “What’s going on? You look … ” She lifts up her hand. “Like something is off.”
“I was just watching you work,” I rumble, my voice gravelly. I don’t move toward her. I just stand there, letting her look at me.
“You look pretty intense,” she says, her eyes dropping to the bruises along my ribs before lifting back to my face.
“I guess I’m just feeling possessive,” I say bluntly.
“Aston … ”
“He texted you. He wants to take you out, Eva,” I say, my steps closing the distance between us before she can even process the words.
I crowd her back against the wood of the locker, trapping her between my chest and the redwood paneling.
My voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it.
“He sat in my living room last night, drank my beer, and told me how hot you looked on the sideline. Said he thinks the spark between you is still there. Said he wants to take you out.”
Eva’s hand comes up, her palms pressing against my bare, damp chest, her fingers tracing over my skin. “Aston. I don’t care what he says.”
“Well, I care,” I grumble, my jaw tight as I reach down, my hands grabbing her by the waist. “I had to sit there and listen to my twin brother talk about you like you were something he could just pick up. And I kept my mouth shut.”
“I didn’t answer his text,” she whispers. “You know there’s nothing between him and me. I know who I want.”
Her words hit me like a brick.
She reaches down, her fingers hooking into the knot of the towel at my waist. With one slow, deliberate movement, she pulls it loose and lets the cloth drop to the floor, leaving me entirely naked in front of her.
Eva’s breath hitches, her eyes tracking the hard lines of my thighs, the rigid muscle of my stomach, and my cock hanging heavy, the unmistakable proof of how much I want her.
“Someone could walk in on us, Eva.”
“We’re done for the day. I sent my crew home. And Liam hightailed out of here as soon as we wrapped,” she says as she brushes her hands down my chest to my hips.
I reach for the button on her jeans and pop it, then unzip them and help her strip the denim down her legs, my movements rough and urgent. I kick her jeans out of the way, my large hands sliding down the smooth skin of her thighs, gripping the backs to lift her and hold her high against me.
“Tell me you want me,” I demand, my mouth coming down to press against the column of her neck, my teeth biting lightly at the soft skin right above her collarbone until she whimpers.
“I want you,” she gasps, her hands tangling into my hair, pulling my mouth up to meet hers. “Aston … please. Now. I don’t want to think about anything but us.”
The kiss turns into a bruising collision of teeth and tongue, the built-up frustration pouring out into the space between us. I carry her down to my locker, hold her steady with one arm, and reach into my duffel bag, grabbing a foil packet from the zipper pocket, tearing it open with my teeth.
“This is gonna be hard and fast. I need you, Eva. I need you so fucking bad.”
“Do it,” she says, panting.
When I slide into her, the feeling is so intense my vision goes white at the edges. Eva lets out a sharp, breathless cry, her fingers digging into the muscles of my back, her nails scratching against my skin as I begin to thrust up into her tight pussy.
The rhythm is brutal and unyielding, the sound of our bodies slapping echoes in the empty room.
Every thrust is a claim. A hard boundary.
Even though she says everyone is gone, I don’t care about the risk of someone walking in.
I don’t care about the coaching staff that could be down the hall.
In this room, she’s the only thing that exists.
“Aston … oh God, Aston,” she pants, her head resting against the wood, her eyes wild with heat that belongs only to me. Her grip tightens around my neck, her core starting to contract around my cock with a crushing heat that threatens to break me entirely.
“Look at me,” I growl, my voice ragged against her lips.
She looks up, her eyes swimming with desire as I push into her one last time, deep, hitting the spot that drives her crazy until she comes.
Her head drops, letting out a long moan against my shoulder, her body shaking as her climax takes over.
The feel of her unraveling around me shatters my control.
I groan, a deep sound from the bottom of my chest, and follow her orgasm with my own, my entire body locking tight as I pour everything I have into her.