“Mm-hmm.”
“The head coach seems… intense.”
I don’t miss the little pause, the careful way she says it.
I turn to look at her. “Does he?”
Simone’s face stays perfectly neutral, but there’s a glint in her eye. “You tell me.”
Shit.
“I didn’t notice.”
“Of course not, ma’am.” She’s definitely fighting a smile. “Your three o’clock is in twenty minutes. Should I…”
“I need a moment. I’ll be out shortly.”
She nods and slips out, closing the door behind her.
I stand alone in the middle of the room, heart still pounding, and let out a long breath.
My friends call me Levi.
I press my palm to my chest. My heart is racing like I’m twenty. Like I’m a college girl with a crush, and not the goddamn President of the United States.
This is ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous. It was just a handshake.
But I can still feel his fingers wrapped around mine. The warmth of his palm. The way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room.
I’m a fan of yours too.
I close my eyes.
You are in so much trouble, Lina.
Yeah. I really, really am.
Three
Levi
It’s been four days. Four days since I shook her hand. Four days since she looked at me with her beautiful eyes and my entire brain went offline. Four days since I heard her voice up close and nearly came in my pants in the fucking White House. Four days, and I haven’t stopped thinking about her for a single goddamn second.
This is a problem.
I’m supposed to be focused. The World Cup starts in three days. This is the biggest tournament of my career, a home World Cup, the first time the US has hosted since ‘94, and I’m the guy responsible for twenty-three players and an entire country’s expectations.
I should be reviewing tactics. Watching film. Fine-tuning set pieces. Instead, I’m lying in my hotel bed at one in the morning, scrolling through photos of the President of the United States like a goddamn teenager.
Pathetic. You’re a pathetic loser, Hendricks.
But I can’t stop. There’s this one picture where she was at a state dinner last month. Wearing an off-the-shoulder navy gown, showing off her collarbones and the soft swell of her breasts. I stare at the curve of her neck and think about dragging my tongue along it. Then lower, until I can nip into the round of her tits…
There’s another one where she’s meeting with foreign leaders. Wearing a power suit this time, her expression serious, looking like the boss lady she is. I think about what it would take to make her composure crack. Make her gasp. Moan. Scream my name.
In this last one, she’s laughing during a press conference, with her head thrown back, her gorgeous smile lighting up her whole damn face.
God, that smile.
