Ruby, however, clearly doesn’t care about restraint.
Before I can react, she snatches the hose from the groundskeeper watering the hanging baskets beside us and turns it directly on Torres. Water blasts across his chest, soaking him.
“What the fuck is the matter with you? You insane bitch.”
Ruby lets out the same wicked cackle she made yesterday when she told the reporter she hated me on sight. “Whoops. Hope you’ve got a change of clothes.”
She doesn’t let up until Torres has stormed off out of sight.
I grin despite myself. “I think that’s becoming your signature move, darling.”
CHAPTER 22
Ruby
“Ishould have played Chester in the third chukka.” His fingers trail lazily up and down my spine as he sighs. His eyes are closed while he tortures himself by going over every second of the match. “I should have taken her, and Billy kept Messiah, then we would have won instead of draw.”
“I don’t think it would’ve made a difference.”
He shakes his head. “I can get more out of her than other people can. She responds to me.”
I press my hand to his face, effectively cutting him off, and enjoy the feeling of his stubble tickling my palm.
The Foxleigh Flyers drew three all against the French side, and we didn’t get the points Miles desperately wanted to get ahead in the tables. But there’s only one reason we lost, which is why he’s now in his head, and it has nothing to do with the score or the ponies.
And everything to do with Santiago Torres.
“Miles, you can go over and over it, and beat yourself up, but that’s not what made the difference. They were just as good as us. Despite being distracted, you didn’t play badly. You played well. Sometimes the other team just plays well too. It happens.”
“It doesn’t happen to me,” he grumbles.
“Well,excuse me, Mr. Big-Shot Polo Player.”
His grin appears instantly, and his fingers move from my spine to dig into my ribs until I’m shrieking with laughter.
“Stahpstoooop!”
“I quite enjoy discovering you’re ticklish,” he taunts, and I glare. “I think I found your weakness.”
“I have plenty of weaknesses.”
“Oh yeah?” His fingers stop, but his hand stays around my waist, and he tucks me close so he can run his lips along my shoulder. It doesn’t matter that Miles only made me come five minutes ago. My core spasms because she wants more. “This is definitely the best way to do post-match analysis.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, stemming the jealousy ripping through me. “I think you’ve probably done plenty of post-match analysis with girls in your bed.”
He lets out a labored sigh, looking less amused, like he wishes he hadn’t started down this path of conversation. “I can’t deny there’ve been post-matchhookups,” he admits, “but there’s never been anyone I could dissect a match with. And I’m telling you now, it’s so much better.”
“Is that why you’ve never met anyone?”
He shrugs, keeping his eyes closed, and I’m grateful. If he’s not looking at me, it’s easier to ask the questions I have no right to ask. “I never wanted to. I’m only twenty-eight.”
I stay quiet, wanting to know more, but not wanting to push.
“I just...I’ve never felt the need to get close to someone in that way.” His eyes open now, blue gaze holding mine. “I saw what happened to my mum when my dad died. She had to work so hard to stay strong for us. . . and then there was Lando.”
“Lando? Your brother?” I frown.
“He’s the eldest. It’s his responsibility to carry on the Burlington name and line. He had so much pressure put on him to marry, find the right person, produce an heir...and Ihated it. I was ten, watching everyone pile expectations onto his shoulders at a time when he should have been out having fun like any normal eighteen-year-old.” He exhales sharply. “Instead, he got handed ten billion quid and told not to fuck up. Oh, and find a wife. So he got engaged to a hideous woman who cheated on him, and it became a huge scandal.”
