“Dacen?” Evie’s voice travels around the corner in advance of her figure and Ryne’s head rears back. When she makes the turn she stops and freezes. A high-pitched squeaky sound follows. “I’m—oh Jayzus—I’m so sorry.” She throws her hands up and takes a step backward. “I-I told you I was gonna come look for you.” Her voice is strained, apologetic, and she looks from me to Ryne with wide eyes. Ryne glares at her and drops his hands. “I’m not here,” she continues. “I mean, I am, obviously, but—I’m rambling. Ignore me. I’m leaving now.” She makes that squeaky sound again, pivots on one foot, and retreats around the corner.
I have half a mind to call after her to slow down so she doesn’t twist an ankle, but the other half of my brain is still stuck back where we’d hit the pause button at her interruption. I want more of Ryne’s lips, and I want them now. The moment is over though. Ryne already pulled his phone out and is sending a message to someone.
I can’t believe I got cock-blocked by my best friend.
Ryne’s kissing skills are worthy of medals. Trophies. Songs written in their honor. It. Was. Amazing. But now he stands there looking completely unaffected as if none of it even happened.
Is it too soon to start weeping?
This whole thing reminds me of the one other time I’d been that close to Ryne’s lips. Things hadn’t fared much better then either, though once again someone else was to blame for the interruption. I let out a frustrated grumble and Ryne glances up. He pockets his phone and steps up to me, flicking my bowtie with his fingers.
“Listen, Taco Socks, I don’t appreciate the interruption either.” His words are growly and laced with as much frustration as I feel.
Okay, so I guess he’s not completely unaffected by what just happened. I take solace in that fact. Ryne rubs the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. The heat in his eyes scorches me and the stealthy little ninja sitting on my shoulder kicks me in the heart, spurring me to action. I part my lips and flick my tongue against his thumb. His eyes darken until I can barely see the ring of silvery-blue around the pupils, and then he grabs my chin. His other palm settles on the small of my back and draws me closer. The pounding in my chest is so strong it’s a miracle my heart doesn’t burst right through.
The rowdy sounds of who I assume to be Evan, Roman, and Tyler drift down the hallway toward us, though they’ve not yet made an appearance. Ryne leans in and brushes his lips over mine, just barely making contact. When he speaks, every word singes my lips and shoots fireworks off inside me.
“I’m going to own this mouth again one of these days soon, Dacen.”
It takes a substantial effort for me not to moan when Ryne licks the seam of my lips once. He drops my chin and steps back just as his friends round the corner. Our eyes stay locked until he turns around. There are silent promises made in those few seconds, dirty ones based on the gleam in his eye and the smile on my lips.
Forget scorched.
The flames from the blazing inferno that is Ryne Sutton engulf me, completely.
25
Dacen
Soccer camp, late June
The kids in my group were brutal today, two in particular. Kyle Schalk and Paxton Anders. Kyle “accidentally” tripped Paxton during warmup drills, and Paxton retaliated by shoving Kyle into a bin of soccer balls after lunch. Dumped him in headfirst. I have no idea how he managed to get Kyle over the side and into the bin, he’s the smaller of the two. They’ve been at each other’s throats all last week and this week, and finally, today were pulled aside and got the big speech on sportsmanship and the camp code of conduct and received a warning. They each genuinely seem like they want to be here, so I hope for both of their sakes they’re able to get their acts together so they can stick around through the end of the week.
I’m exhausted and I don’t even have to deal with as much as the actual coaches do. I don’t know how they stay sane. Between helping run drills, actually doing drills with the kids, being jumped on repeatedly during free play hour, and trying to help keep track of fifteen kids, both my brain and my body feel like mush after the last week and a half. The hot water beating down on my back is heaven.
Sore muscles and the whole Kyle and Paxton drama aside, today was pretty decent. I managed not to drool or trip over my own two feet when Ryne got changed this morning, no small accomplishment. Did I check out his ass in his boxer briefs as he walked from the bathroom over to his side of the room to get dressed? Hell yes. I’m only human and his ass is amazing. What I wouldn’t give to see him bare-ass naked. I drop my head back and let the water run over my face, muffling the sounds of my moan.
We have this weird… weirdness between the two of us. I don’t know what else to call it. There is no elephant in the room when it comes to our attraction to each other. I’d accidentally made my appreciation of Ryne’s body perfectly clear from day one of our training camp over three weeks ago, and Ryne hasn't exactly been shy about checking me out or parading his hot self around the room nearly naked. He’s also got a wicked dirty mouth on him. We haven’t done anything, but we’ve been on an extreme-flirting marathon. There’s a tension that vibrates in the air whenever we’re together and I wonder if one of these days one of us will finally snap. I hope so. We’re running out of time.
When our training camp ended it turned out we were both staying to work this two-week thing for the younger kids. We technically could have each changed rooms, but through some unspoken agreement didn’t. I felt the oddest sense of relief when I woke up that first morning of week three and looked across the room to Ryne’s cute sleeping face. He’s all hard, chiseled lines and a sharp tongue during the day, but when he’s asleep there’s a softness to his features that completely transforms him and never fails to send waves of a different nature coursing through me, more warmth less heat. I know it seems a bit over the top for someone I’ve known for not quite a month, but it is what it is and I don’t think I’m the only one affected. Yesterday morning when I woke up my eyes met with Ryne’s again when I did my usual glance his way. We stared at each other silently for a moment before he rolled over onto his back.
There’s a knock on the bathroom door. Speak of the devil.
“Yes, Sweet Cheeks?” I call out as I finish rinsing my hair. “Come in!”
Ryne cracks the door open and sticks his head in hesitantly. “Hilarious,” he deadpans. The shower door is full of steam so I can only make out his shape, not the details. I swipe my hand over the glass to see him better and grin.
“Can I help you?”
He bites his lip and pushes the bathroom door open more. “Are you almost done? I need to take a piss.”
“I got in like five minutes ago, and I’m wicked sore. So no. Just go.” He starts to close the door and I call out to him. “Ryne, wait. I don’t mean go as in leave, I mean go as in come in and go to the bathroom.”
He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Isn’t that kinda weird?”
I peer at him through the area I wiped clean. “Only if you make it weird. It’s not like I’m asking you to pick out a china pattern while you're here. Come in and pee in the damn toilet.”
“A china pattern?” His eyebrows knit together and he cocks his head to the side.
