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He remains in place as I grab my camera, holding the ball loosely against his side. The waistband of his shorts hangs low, showing off the impressive topography of his chest. He glances at me, and the shudder clicks in rapid succession. And I know, without looking at the result, that these will be some of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken.
Photography is all about emotion, and this picture is brimming with it. The focus on Will’s expression, the harsh edges of his muscles, the coiled power of a predator about to strike—they’re all captivating.
Not that I’m biased.
I smile. “Got it.”
THIRTY-SIX
WILL
I’m in the middle of unpacking when my phone buzzes in my pocket. We’re in London for a Champions League match, the first time I’ve ever been to England. The first time I’ve been anywhere in Europe, aside from Germany.
It’s Sophia.
I glance at Fritz—I’m bunking with him on this trip, thanks to a last-minute mix-up about the number of rooms needed—who’s sprawled out on his bed, busy scrolling on his phone. We just got back from dinner, which was a long meal. It’s already almost midnight.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey. You made it.”
She knows I did. I texted her when we landed, and the fact that she’s still calling makes me wish Fritz wasn’t ten feet away and I could talk without thinking twice about what I’m saying. Makes me smile, knowing she called just to hear my voice before falling asleep.
“Yeah. It was a pretty easy trip.” The first time I’ve traveled outside of Germany with the club, and it was on a private jet.
“I miss you.” Her voice dips low, seductive and teasing.
Fuck. I recognize that tone, and hate hearing it when I’m this far away from her.
“Soph—Stop.”
Fritz glances over, then away. Curious but not suspicious.
She giggles in my ear. “Don’t you miss me too?”
I head into the bathroom, making sure the door is shut tight behind me. “You know I do. You also know I’m bunking with Fritz, because I mentioned it in my text.”
Sophia hums. She’s in bed. I can tell from the rustle of fabric in the background.
“Are you touching yourself?”
“Maybe.”
“Sophia.”
“Why do you think I called you? I wanted to hear your voice as I…”
She lets out a breathy moan, and the loose fabric of my sweatpants isn’t enough to contain my hardening dick. It strains against the soft material, leaving me with the options of either walking back into the room with a huge hard-on or taking care of this while I’m on the phone with Sophia.
I opt for option two.
“Don’t you dare come,” I tell her, opening the glass shower door and turning on the spray. For the sound and because I’m probably going to need to rinse off after this. “Not yet.”
I switch my phone to my left hand and then tug the band of my sweatpants down with my right one.
“Are you jerking off right now?”
“Working on it.” I fist my throbbing erection, the skin pulled tight and burning hot. “Tell me exactly what you’re doing.”
