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We stride into a wide, high-ceilinged hallway. One side is a curved wall of glass. Ronan takes me to a door on the opposite stretch and nods at the window, showing a glimpse of what’s inside.
It’s huge. At least one hundred feet of turf, all indoors. The “room” must comprise the entire center of the building. I see markings on the fake grass to indicate yardage.
“This is where we can usually find Declan and Theo, along with our wide receivers and a few select defense players. Dec likes to run plays for every contingency—he has the defense run down our receivers so he can work on ways around them. Theo practices blocking and receiving.”
I know next to nothing about anything he just said, but it strikes me as odd that someone would block and receive the ball. When I make a face, Ronan’s expression softens slightly. “You really don’t know anything about the game, huh?”
I bite my lip and drop my eyes to my shoes. “Um… a touchdown is seven points?”
“Six,” he corrects. “Without the kick. Or a two-point conversion.”
Oh-kay…?
Ronan steps a bit closer, only inches from my back, and bends a bit to peer over my shoulder, watching as a cluster of shirtless men organize themselves into opposing rows at the far end of the huge room. His voice drops low.
“Watch.”
His tattooed arm raises to point out the biggest man in the room. My heart—which is already pounding at my ribs from his proximity and scent—lurches and flips.
It’s Theo.
I choke down the whine tickling my throat and nod. Ronan’s voice warms, closer to my ear. “Theo’s our tight end. It’s a very valuable, skilled position.”
My voice trembles. “W-what does he do?”
“Everything,” Ronan rasps. The word tingles down my neck. “In some plays, he blocks defenders trying to get to Declan to take him down. In others, he breaks away from the defense entirely and acts as a receiver. He has to be stronger than the defenders to accomplish either task.”
I only have to watch for a couple moments to see that he undoubtedly is. After a few plays, I’m mesmerized by the way he and Declan work together. The quarterback is light on his feet, always dropping back and setting up his passes with a fluidity that indicates decades of practice.
As beautiful as he is, I find myself wanting to snarl at him.
Infuriating ass.
Watching Theo is much more enjoyable. For one, he’s a mountain of a man in tight black shorts and nothing else. Holy?—
After I’ve thoroughly ogled every line of his thick, chiseled chest, I can appreciate the way he moves. There’s a whomping kind of enthusiasm to it. Whether he’s finding holes to get open or plowing his opponent to the turf, he does it with the sort of gusto you just can’t fake. In the brief moments when he spits out his mouth guard, I catch glimpses of a wide, bright grin.
There’s no hiding the way it makes me smile, too. Especially on one play, when the big guy takes down a defender in one smooth blow and then bursts out laughing.
My chest seizes at the sight. Inexplicable tears block my throat.
Theo.
Ronan hovers at my back, watching me closely. Every bit as captivating as his packmates in a completely different way.
Theo lights up my insides. Ronan surrounds me.
There’s no other way to describe it. Whenever he’s around, I feel him in every breath. Sweet smoke that smothers any uncertainty or fear. Except, of course, the fear of disappointing him.
All of my nerves stand to attention, waiting for the alpha’s directives. When he speaks, his voice is a quiet rumble. “Would you like to meet him?”
He doesn’t say the word “again,” but I hear it in his voice.
Does he know Theo and I met? Did his packmate tell him I’m not really a beta? If he did, why did Ronan ask me to come back here?
Either way, I should say no. Because—even assuming that Theo kept my secret—if I go in there, how will I ever keep myself from climbing him?
What if I perfume and blow my cover? Or whine and have a meltdown?
