“I’ve penciled time into my schedule specifically for Lachlan Reed related swooning.”
I hummed. “No need to swoon when you could have called me. After a weekend like that, I’d have run back to your bed. And you know how fast I am.”
“Not that fast.” She slipped closer to me. “If I remember correctly, you weren’t too fast…weren’t too slow. You were just right.”
I was hating the goal post. I shifted my legs. Didn’t help. My cock was about to bore a hole straight through the post.
“You asking for an encore?” I winked.
“Tempting, but…” Elle flicked a loose piece of tape sticking my ear to my head. “You look like you’re in quite the predicament right now.”
“What? This?” I laughed so she wouldn’t see me struggling against the damn tape.
Stuck. Pinned. So fucking close to her and unable to pounce.
“I’ve been in worse,” I lied. “This is just…a way for me to get a little sun after practice.”
“Yeah, see, this is helping me stretch out all those sore muscles.”
“Right.” Elle nodded. “I’ll let the trainers know you’ve invented a new regimen.”
“Yeah, gotta put in the work to look this good. You remember. In Vegas, you gave me all sorts of compliments…verbal and physical.”
“And I see none of it as gone to your head.”
“Not the one on my shoulders.”
Elle scoffed. “I don’t think anything goes to that head—compliments, thoughts, blood.”
“You didn’t complain at the combine.” I grinned. “Couldn’t. Your mouth was full.”
“And what’s the secret to keeping you quiet?”
“Easy. Sit. Spin. Grind. The usual.”
She took a picture, using the flash to blind me. “Were you this dirty in Vegas?”
“You’re right.” I blinked. Hard. “I apologize. Let’s get in the shower and clean up.” I wiggled. “Loosen this tape for me?”
“Nice try,” she said. “But I’ve been with the Rivets for four years now, ever since I was nineteen. I’ve earned the team’s respect, unlike cocky rookies like you. First rule I’ve learned…never interfere with hazing.”
“Because the rookie will get it worse next time?”
“No…” She leaned against the goal posts. “Because I enjoy it too.”
“Mm.” I squirmed before I was forced to buy the goal post breakfast. “I gotta say—I’m loving your whip-crack, sadistic streak. Where’ve you been all my life?”
“Trying to avoid charming rookies like you.”
“You’re not doing a good job.”
“Ah.” She shook her head. “You were technically a college senior when we met, not a rookie.”
“Is that why you didn’t call me after the draft? You knew I’d come to the Rivets?”
“I was afraid where else you might have come, Lachlan.”
I grinned. “Any place in particular you’d like?”
“Edging, huh?” I asked. “You are sadistic.”
Elle’s smile was a quick chastisement. “Nope. I’m gonna make this perfectly clear. Now that you’re on the Rivets, you can forget about fooling around.”
“Red, that’s like asking the ocean not to be wet…or that perfect little secret between your legs.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I left you messages.”
She sighed, taking a couple more photos as two cornerbacks jogged through the end zone and patted me on the head on their way to the locker room.
Elle shrugged. “We said everything we needed to say at the hotel.”
“We didn’t really talk at the hotel.”
“To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t interested in your mouth then.”
“I’m definitely interested in yours now.”
She rolled her eyes. “At least I left a good impression on you.”
“An impression? Woman, be glad there’s a goal post holding me back.”
“Oh yeah?” She lowered the camera and baited me with a wiggle of her hips. “Tell you what, Charming. If you can get out of the tape, you can have me.”
I thought better of thrashing, gnawing my hand off, or uprooting the goal post. The tape already cut off most of my circulation. I wasn’t risking anything happening to my hands, not after I dropped my share of passes this practice.
Instead I gave her a dimpled grin and a promise. “Nah, Red. Next time we’re together, you’re gonna beg for me.”