Page 79 of The Game We Played

She glances over her shoulder at me. Her smile lights up her face. Her blue eyes twinkle. And her long, brown hair flies behind her. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t believe me when I tell her she’s gorgeous but it’s the truth.

I chase after her – I will always chase after Alaia – and catch her near the entrance to the locker room. I cage her against the wall.

“Caught you.”

She bites her bottom lip. “You did. Now, what are you going to do with me?”

“Hmm… I have a few ideas.”

Starting with removing her lip from her teeth. Her lips are mine and mine alone to bite. I glide my tongue over her bottom lip to soothe it before melding my mouth to hers. She sighs and I plunge my tongue into her mouth.

Damn. Her taste. It gets more addictive every time we kiss. And I don’t care. I’ll happily remain addicted to her lips, her body, her taste for the rest of my life.

I thread a hand through her hair and tug her head to the side so I can dive ineven deeper.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me near. Until my chest hits hers. I can feel her nipples harden against my chest.

I press my hard length into her stomach and she moans. I love the little moans and sounds she makes when I’m inside her.

I love her. Plain and simple. I need to tell her. I need her to know how I feel.

Maybe if she knows, she’ll agree to continue the relationship. A real relationship. Not this fake one. That doesn’t feel very fake anymore.

A whistle blows and I tear my lips from Alaia’s. I glare at Coach Knox.

“Stop screwing around. Practice begins in fifteen minutes, and you aren’t changed.”

Alaia’s face darkens. “Sorry. I’ll um…”

She tries to pull away from me, but I shackle her wrist to stop her. “I’ll walk you to the bleachers.”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking to the bleachers by myself.”

“Maybe I want to be a gentleman.”

I lead her past the locker room toward the stadium. Knox sighs as we pass him. “Another one hit by the love bug.”

Fuck. Did Alaia hear him? I need to tell her how I feel. But not this way. I glance at Alaia. She’s already pulling her phone out of her pocket and tapping on it. She didn’t hear anything.

I show her to a seat in the bleachers, kiss her cheek, and hurry back to the locker room. I don’t want to be late for practice. Football is serious business.

I tug my jersey over my head and jog onto the field as the whistle blows.

Heat slams into me like a wall. It’s not yet noon, and the sun is already brutal, baking the turf until it radiates through my cleats. Sweat trickles down my spine, and we haven’t even started drills yet. Today is going to be brutal.

Maybe not the best day to ask Alaia to come to practice. I glance up at her in the bleachers. I expect her to be writing but she’s not. She’s staring at the field with a frown on her face. When I wave, she brightens and feigns doing a cheer with pompoms.

I chuckle at her goofiness. How could this woman ever think she’s boring?

“Line up!” Coach Knox barks.

I drop into position, roll my shoulders, and shake out my arms. My muscles are already tight from yesterday’s session. Good. Sore muscles mean I’m working hard and making progress.

The whistle shrieks, and I explode off the line. Five yards. Ten. Cut left. Plant. Pivot. The ball snaps into my hands and I tuck it tight against my ribs before jogging it out.

“Faster, Long!” Coach roars.

I don’t respond. I just reset.