Page 69 of Last Line of Defense

That voice runs down my spine like a high-voltage shock, giving me goosebumps instantly. I try to come up with a witty reply—one of my typical cocky lines to mask the hurricane raging in my chest—but my mind goes blank. The words have taken a summer vacation.

Iván, who hasn’t a clue about the romantic drama unfolding before him, is the first to break the ice.

“Well, look, it’s coming along nicely,” he explains, showing her the tablet screen. “The joint is responding really well, and if there are no setbacks during the high-intensity workouts, we might even have her ready to play a few minutes in the league opener.”

I see Clara nod slowly, without taking her eyes off mine for even a millimeter. There’s a new light in her gaze—something pure, stripped of fear and unfiltered. She’s read that damn interview. You bet she has. You can tell by her posture, by the way she takes me in with her eyes, as if she’s decided to throw all her inhibitions out the window.

Iván keeps droning on with technical details about the recovery plan and eccentric exercises, but my mind has already checked out. Clara moves closer. Slowly. Without hiding from anyone. I can feel the tension throughout the entire gym. My pulse is racing; I could swear my heartbeat is booming through the speakers. Her eyes drift down to my mouth, and without another word, she leans in and kisses me. Just like that, point-blank, boldly, and in front of everyone.

The entire gym fades into nothingness. Her hand cradles my jaw with a possessive tenderness that melts me, while her lips find mine with authority. It’s not a rushed kiss or some movie-perfect kiss; it’s so much better. It’s real. It’s Clara saying, Here I am, choosing to take the plunge in full view of the whole gym. She savors my lips, tasting me slowly, conveying in a single second everything she feels and erasing the silence of these past two days of anguish.

I hear the echo of a muffled squeal in the background, whispers, and the sound of someone dropping a dumbbell, but I don’t care. When she pulls away just a few millimeters, I feel her warm breath mingling with mine. I just stare at her, dumbfounded—I can’t help it—my lips tingling and my mind struggling to believe what just happened, and she rewards me with one of those smiles of hers that I know will be the death of me someday.

“Have… have you read it?” I manage to stammer, my voice deeper and hoarser than usual.

Clara tilts her head, still caressing my cheekbone with her thumb.

“Well, right now the whole country knows we’re dating,” she replies in a delightful whisper. “And it’s funny… because I don’t remember you ever officially asking me out.”

I let out a nervous little laugh, my stomach tied in a knot of pure happiness.

“Let’s see… technically, the schedule was tight and there wasn’t room for a formal date. I got carried away with the reporter—why should I lie to you?”

Her dark eyes shine with a beautiful intensity, with something that looks very much like pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Alicia…”

I make a move to speak, but she silences me by placing a finger on my lips. And then she lets it out. Without warning. In front of twenty-something gossipy players. In front of the coaching staff and whoever else needs to hear it.

“I guess, since everyone’s found out… all that’s left for me to say is that I love you madly, Alicia Puertas.”

My heart skips a beat so violently that I swear it stops for a second. I feel a knot in my stomach, followed by a wave of heat so intense that I have to swallow hard to keep from bursting into tears. Clara has never confessed her feelings to me so emphatically and openly before. Hearing her is like having a fifty-pound backpack of insecurities, fears, and loneliness—one I’ve been dragging around for half my life—lifted off my shoulders.

She gives me a sidelong smile and runs her knuckles across my cheek in a gesture that melts me.

“And that knee better be ready to play the full ninety minutes. Because I want you at your best. On the field and off it.”

The laugh that escapes me is choked, emotional, and tinged with a touch of silliness because of just how utterly happy I feel. All around us, the gym has fallen silent. Several of my teammates are smiling from ear to ear. Others try to hide it by staring intently at the pulley machines, though you can tell from a mile away that they’re not missing a single detail of the soap opera.

Iván clears his throat, looking as if he’s just attended the premiere of the year.

“Well… my contract certainly didn’t specify that I had to be the third wheel. But hey, I’m happy for you two.”

I cover my face with my hands, mortified, as I let out a hearty laugh. My chest feels so full that I can barely breathe. But it’s a wonderful feeling—pure and full of light.

I open my eyes just in time to see Clara looking at me with that feline gaze that always disarms me.

“Clara…” I begin, completely captivated.

She shakes her head, amused, and winks at me.

“Don’t say another word, or I’ll kiss you again and we’ll bring training to a standstill.”

“Is that a threat or a nice promise?” I ask her, with a roguish smile I can no longer hide.

Her smile widens, free and radiant. I don’t remember her ever being so carefree—and so very herself. She’s spectacular.

“I’ll be waiting for you at my place tonight.”