I sure as fuck didn’t expect him to text me and suggest we meet in secret.
But I definitely wasn’t upset about it.
I was looking around to make sure no one was watching — which was kind of silly, provided it was the offseason and this end of the stadium was completely dead right now — when I rounded the corner that would take me to the stock room.
And when I looked straight again, I found Braden Lock leaning one shoulder against the stock room door, his arms crossed and chin tilted down like he was just having a moment of meditation rather than waiting to meet up with a dancer he very much was not supposed to hang out with.
He was in full uniform.
And my mouth watered instantly.
Fuck.
The white Seahawks jersey clung to his broad shoulders, the navy numbers stretching over muscle that looked like it had been carved from marble. His pants hugged powerful thighs that could probably snap me in half without much effort, and the bright slash of neon green along the seams of his pants only drew more attention to his beastly build.
His helmet rested on the ground by his cleats, leaving his hair free — a mess of light brown waves that looked like someone had tried to tame them for the cameras and failed halfway through.
His skin was warm and sun-browned, the kind of tan that only came from long days outside — practice fields, training camps, summer workouts. Against the crisp white of the uniform it made him look even more dangerous somehow.
When he heard me, his eyes snapped up.
Golden brown and sharp as hell, those eyes trailed a long, slow assault down my body and back up again before they locked onto mine.
The corner of his mouth lifted slowly, that knowing smirk settling in place like he already understood every filthy, reckless thought that had just crossed my mind as I checked him out in return.
And I mean… I wasn’t going to deny it.
I’d had dirty thoughts about this man since the first day we met, and seeing him in uniform like this only doubled the intensity with which I thought them.
I slowed my gait even more as I approached him, especially when he straightened off the wall and shook his head as his eyes raked over me again.
“Something the matter, Boss?” I asked.
“Yeah. I don’t have any pockets to shove my hands into at the moment.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“It is with you looking like that.”
I bit my lip on a smile, clasping my hands behind my back with an innocent sway of my shoulders. “Can’t imagine what you mean.”
“Mm-hmm.” Braden smirked, his eyes flicking between mine. “You look…” He swallowed, like he didn’t trust himself to finish the sentence. “I’m glad they didn’t make you cover your tattoos.”
I laughed. “Like I’d ever let them.”
That had him chuckling with me, and then a silence set in, the two of us looking at each other like we didn’t know whether to fuck or flee.
Was that another version of the fight-or-flight instinct?
“You texted me,” I finally said.
Braden sighed, moving just an inch in my direction. “So I did.”
“What happened towe can’t fraternize, it’s against the rules?” I teased.
“Still the case.”
“And yet here you are.”
