Footsteps sounded behind her and she turned, expecting it to be one of the guys. It was a guy, all right. She stare
d at the bare chest, instantly recognising and responding to the dusting of dark hair and defined pecs and abs. It hadn’t been baby oil that had made this chest gleam the last time she’d seen it; it had been sweat and wet—from her lips and tongue.
It took all her willpower not to lick her lips now, and far too many seconds before she could drag her gaze upwards. The silence, for all that time, said it all.
‘What are you doing here?’ she finally asked, trying not to let her streaming excitement sound, but he had to be able to hear her heart battering her rib cage.
‘What does it look like?’ Eyes dancing, he took for ever to slip his tee shirt over his head. ‘I’m doing a training session with the team. I need to know what to prepare the boys for next week.’
‘What?’ Horrified, she glared at him. ‘That’s not a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because…’ She paused. Because he’d probably get killed—but how did she say that without sounding too concerned? ‘Can you afford the dental work?’ she eventually spat.
‘So little faith?’ Good humour beamed from his face. She knew he was enjoying her OTT reaction.
‘You’re not a professional rugby player. Those guys are demons.’ Oh, hell, she sounded pathetic.
‘Why, Lena—’ he put his hand to his chest ‘—you care about what happens to me?’
‘I wouldn’t like to see anyone permanently paralysed,’ she corrected him bluntly.
‘Your concern for my welfare is very sweet, but I’ve no intention of being pulverised.’
On that pitch he wasn’t going to have the choice. The Knights were the best team in the country. Fighting machines who showed no mercy. Ever.
Without realising, she followed him out of the change room into the tunnel and towards the pitch. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Well, there are a couple of reasons. I do need to prep for my boys.’ He stopped right at the end of the tunnel and faced her. ‘But I’ve also got energy to burn. More than a little frustration. Ice-cold showers aren’t enough.’
His words torched Lena’s cheeks. She clamped her jaw, trying to ignore the flames licking deep inside her, too. Had he guessed she’d been having like three ice showers a day?
‘Besides,’ he continued easily, ‘I’ve always wanted to play on this pitch.’
‘This is some childhood fantasy?’ What was it with these guys?
‘Why not?’ His smile was unrepentant and infuriatingly irresistible. ‘I never played rugby as a boy, had a couple of part-time jobs and couldn’t make the training sessions at school. So here I am, fulfilling that youthful ambition.’
‘So your unholy desire to make truckloads of money began right when you were a kid?’
Her sarky comeback killed the smile in his eyes, leaving them colder than she’d ever seen them. ‘Like most people, I like to eat. And in order to do that on a reasonably regular basis, I had to work.’
Lena swallowed, lost for words and suddenly sorry.
‘We didn’t all have the perfect upbringing with the piano and tennis lessons and home-baked biscuits in our lunch boxes,’ he tossed, stepping out onto the grass.
‘Seth—’ Lena called after him, now angry, too, because he was as wrong as she’d been.
He turned and glared, defiance flaming in his eyes. ‘Here’s the thing, Lena. You don’t know me very well. And you certainly don’t know how determined I can be.’
His chin lifted as he jogged to join in the warm-up drills. Open-mouthed, Lena watched. Determined? About what she thought he meant? He turned his head, flashing another look at her.
Oh, yes, he did mean that—because that defiance was desire drenched. Stupidly, all she could wonder then was whether he had a mouth guard. Irresistibly she was drawn to the rail. Dion was lounging against it, yapping into his mobile phone. She didn’t want to watch the carnage, but her body wasn’t listening to her brain. When it came to Seth, her body refused to hear sense.
‘Hey!’ A few of the guys grinned and high-fived Seth.
A few others shivered, and drew away from him as if they were afraid.
‘Don’t be too hard on us, bro. We don’t wanna see any of your KO moves out here.’
Seth just grinned. Lena frowned. What were they talking about?
The start-up drills were easy—running, ball skills, none of the blood-splattering tackles to begin with, but it would only be a matter of time. She watched him—black shorts, grey tee shirt. Lean, fit, hard. Edible. But not a rugby professional.
She gripped the rail tightly, trying to get a grip on the adrenaline coursing through her, trying to lose the fear factor.
‘You didn’t want to get out there, too?’ she asked Dion when he put the phone into his pocket. If it was slam-the-amateur hour, then shouldn’t he be getting bloodied, as well?
‘Hell, no, I’d only play against Seth in a non-contact sport like chess or something. Even then, he’d clean me up.’
Really? If she weren’t feeling so anxious she’d roll her eyes. But they were glued to Seth’s sleek physique. He was fast and fully holding his own; she’d easily lose him in the mix. ‘Is Gabe in?’ she asked breathlessly. She’d feel better knowing the team doctor was on-site.
Dion chuckled. ‘Seth’s not going to need him, if that’s what you’re thinking. I think the boys are more afraid of him than he is of them.’
Amazingly that outlandish comment seemed to be accurate. The team were throwing cautious looks his way, but that was probably because they were afraid of hurting him or something. Except it didn’t look like that would happen. How did a guy who bought and sold buildings end up with such sharp muscles? How come his abs were more defined than most of the other guys’? How come he wasn’t breathless and panting after all those sprints? Some of the locks looked as if they were hitting their cardio limit already but Seth was still smiling. And the warm-up was working for her as much as for those locks, because all she could think about was his body pouring all that power into hers.
‘Why would they be afraid of him?’ Lena asked, half panting herself.
‘Because he has a killer left hook. In his time he KO’d more opponents than anyone else in his division.’
KO’d as in knocked out? ‘You mean he’s a boxer?’
‘Yeah.’ Dion answered as if he was amazed she didn’t know that. ‘He was a national amateur champ.’
No way. Seth wasn’t a boxer. Where were the battle scars? Where was the bump in the nose from the repeated breaks? His face was far too perfect. She stared at him as she processed. Boxing? It was even more violent than rugby.
So he really was a fighter. No wonder he had such a fit body. As a rule she loathed the sport—loathed the violence. Only, now she felt a rush of liquid heat at the thought of him engaged in something so overtly masculine—that raw determination to channel untamed aggression. She shivered. Wasn’t the aim to physically hurt another and assert dominance primitive and barbaric?
Yet when Seth had dominated her, when he’d used his body to torment hers, it had been with tenderness. Ferocious passion, yes—but also infinite tenderness.
The dichotomy intrigued and inflamed her. There was greater complexity to the man than she’d realised and she was so curious. Why had he got into boxing? Why was he working with these at-risk youth? He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he wasn’t after promo ops. She’d checked his website yesterday and there was nothing personal about him on there. The first hits on a quick Google search had been pictures of him on the town with beautiful women and had been so depressing she’d shut down the search instantly.
She shoved the questions away now, too. Curiosity got cats into serious trouble, after all. She turned and went to hide in her office. Organising her in-tray, she counted the seconds down until she figured it was safe to go back down to the change room and sort the rest of the stuff she’d abandoned. The boys should have finished and cleared out—they had a session with the dietician on a Thursday.
‘Coming through!’ she called regardless, her voice echoing in the empty room.
‘I hoped I’d see you again.’ He stepped round the corner.
Okay, so the room wasn’t quite empty. And he hadn’t changed, still hot and sweaty, his body looking all the more powerful.
‘I jogged round the pitch a few more times after training had ended,’ he answered her unspoken question. ‘I’m still suffering from more energy than I know what to do with.’
She glanced up to his face, just for a second. But that second morphed into an endless moment because the expression in his eyes entranced her. It was that total focus, the look that made her feel as if there were nothing and no one else in the world but her. She tried to break free but it was impossible. Lust, she reminded herself, just lust. A hormonal mix headier than most—okay, deadly. But lust meant nothing. This could be nothing.
His tee shirt clung to his breadth, his skin gleamed, his chest rose and fell faster than usual. He was steaming hot. And she was dying of attraction. She had to kill it.
‘You need a shower,’ she said roughly. But she needed one more.
All Seth could think about was hauling her into the shower with him. Yeah, the whole point of the exercise this morning was purely to see her again—not play rugby. He wasn’t really a team-sports guy. He preferred one-to-one challenges. Like this. He’d spent hours wondering what she’d be wearing when he saw her next and it was every bit as gorgeous as he’d fantasised. He’d seen the millions of dresses in her wardrobe when she’d opened it yesterday morning. He loved the way they emphasised her shape, loved the fantasy of lifting her skirt and having easy access. Today she wore emerald green. It would look even better wet.
Deliberately he stepped closer, his intent sharpening when she didn’t step back. He watched for a blush or something—anything—to clue him in to her thoughts. He hoped they were as rabid as his were. But she was one hell of a blank slate and the poker fantasy came back at the worst possible moment.