My jaw clenches hard enough it hurts. No. Not happening. Not for anyone. Definitely not for him. He thinks he can push me? Get a reaction? Make me crack? I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. How does he make me lose control every single time I’m around him?
Cold shower. Fix it. Shut it down.
He’s fucking poison in my veins and I have to flush him out.
I head straight for the bathroom, crank the water ice-cold, and step in. It hits me like a slap, numbs my skin, but the heat in my stomach just claws higher. No distractions now. Just him. Rhys. The way he said my name—taunting, almost like a dare. Leaning in close like he wanted to see me lose it, as if he wanted me to need it.
What if I hadn’t told him to fuck off?
What if I’d let him keep going?
What would have happened?
“Shit.” My voice is rough, useless.
He’s just playing with me. That’s all it is. Rhys loves to get under my skin and see what’ll happen if he presses hard enough.
And I let him. God, I fucking let him.
My hand drops lower, fist tight around my cock, already aching, angry. I brace my head against the tile. “Fuck fuck fuck—” I can’t stop thinking about him, even though I shouldn’t. Even though I swear I hate him. But his smirk’s burnt into my brain. I can feel his mouth on my neck, remember the way his breath felt on me. And that voice—filthy, right in my ear, too close.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pinch the tip hard, chasing pain, hoping it’ll kill this. “I fucking hate him.” The words come out a growl, hard and mean, but I need them to matter. Because if they don’t—my grip tightens. Hard. Fast. Like if I keep going I can erase him. Like I can rub him out of me. My abs lock up, tension and want twisting together until I can’t tell them apart.
Because if I don’t hate him, what the hell am I doing?
This isn’t want. It’s need. It’s a fucking addiction. I’ve spent so long trying not to want him that I don’t know what to do now that I definitely do.
I see him under me, mouth shut for once, eyes blown wide. No banter, no pushback, no smart-ass comebacks—just his lipsparted and his voice gone, all that attitude wiped clean as he chokes on me. I’d shut him up. Make him beg. Make him pay for every time he’s ever pissed me off.
“Fuck—” The thought slices through me, sharp as glass. My hand moves faster, rough, relentless. I want to take something back, all the control he stole from me. But it still feels like it’s him, like he’s got his fingers hooked straight into me, tugging, twisting, stroking.
“Fuck, Rhys—” His name slips out, torn and desperate.
That’s it.
Everything snaps, white-hot, my forehead slamming against the tile as I come, shaking. For one second, there’s nothing. Just air. Just the water. And then—he’s still there. Rhys. Stuck in my head, under my skin, something I can’t rip out, no matter how hard I try.
Chapter 28
Jamie
Coach calls a meeting right after the next practice.
Me and Rhys. Both of us. Together. Alone.
Fuck.
I stare at the ceiling for about two seconds in the hallway before I walk in. Fitch is already laughing at something Rhys said, which tells me everything I need to know about how this meeting is going to go. I take my seat and fix my expression into something neutral before anyone can read into it.
“Alright, boys.” Fitch leans back, clasping his hands. “I wanted to check in. Make sure things are moving in the right direction between you two. Rhys, you just say the word and more serious action can be taken. I know we all play around, but I want you to be comfortable here. I can vouch for Jamie, but ultimately it’s on you.”
Rhys doesn’t even let me draw a single breath. “Coach.” He puts a hand to his chest with the most sincere face I have ever seen on him. “With complete honesty — Jamie has really touched me lately.”
I stare straight ahead.
“If anything I’d say we’re closer than ever.” He turns toward me with that smile — that smile that I am going to see in my nightmares — warm and wide and absolutely loaded. “He even came by my place the other night. Isn’t that right, Jamie?”
Every muscle in my body is rigid. “That’s right,” I say.Perfectly even. “Took your advice to heart, Coach. We’re working through it.”
