Page 94

“What about Carina? Have you seen her? She told me she’s going to the World Cup,” she said after I told her no, I hadn’t had a chance to see any of my Blackcastle teammates yet. Asher, Vincent, Adil, and Gallagher had all been called up to their national teams (England, France, Morocco, and England again, respectively), but they had their own schedules and base camps.

“Uh, no,” I said, a flush creeping over my face. “She’s coming to watch England play, not the US. Besides, I won’t have much time to meet up with her outside the tournament anyway.”

My parents quieted in the background. I could practically hear their curiosity over the line. They knew Carina had been my latest nanny, but I didn’t make a habit of chatting with my nannies outside of work, though Carina and I had agreed to keep our communications to a minimum until after the World Cup. She was far too distracting.

“I wish she were here instead. I think she’d love Michigan.” Evie brightened. “Maybe she can join us next summer!”

A storm of emotions rattled my chest. She didn’t know it, but she was painting a picture of domesticity that was all too easy to slip into. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Thankfully, my parents didn’t interrogate me about Carina in front of Evie, though I could tell from my mom’s expression that she wanted to. We ended our call, and I stretched out on the bed, the previously peaceful silence now a little oppressive.

What was Carina doing right now? Asher had gotten the girls tickets for England, but their first match wasn’t until the nineteenth. That was five days from now, which meant she was still in London. Eating, shopping, hanging out with her friends, working at RAB, maybe trying new hobbies for her challenge list. All normal, mundane things, yet I wanted to hear about every detail of her life since I last saw her. It was a little pathetic.

I eyed my phone. It sat on the nightstand, beckoning me like a siren luring sailors to their doom.

I should not call her. Or text her. Or even think about her too much. Once she infiltrated my mind, it was near-impossible to get her out.

But tomorrow was a rest day, so if I were to get distracted, tonight would be the best night. Hypothetically speaking.

I was saved from having to make a decision when she texted first a few minutes later. My heart flipped at the sight of her name. Also pathetic. But that didn’t stop me from reading her messages with a stupid smile.

Carina

I’m not texting you congratulations since you’ve probably heard that many times already today, but I just wanted to let you know that you looked very sexy in your national kit

Carina

Green’s your color

Are you objectifying me, Vu?

Carina

Are you objecting to me objectifying you, Wilson?

That pulled a laugh out of me. God, I missed her.

I almost texted back, but I hadn’t heard her voice in fifteen days. I wanted to hear her teasing tone and the warm lilt of her laugh instead of experiencing them through a screen. So, instead of adhering to my good judgment, I acted on impulse and called her.

Fuck it. My next match wasn’t until next Friday. I had plenty of time to get myself together before then.

“I’m not objecting at all,” I said when she picked up on the second ring. “In fact, I called so you could elaborate. Tell me more. Was it the color that did it for you, or was it something else?”

Her throaty laugh was like a shot of pure serotonin. “I’ve created a monster. The Noah I met would’ve never chased flattery like this. In fact, I distinctly remember a clause in our contract that forbade ‘unnecessary compliments.’”

I put her on speakerphone and lay back with my hands laced behind my head. “Sure, but the contract’s over, and these compliments are very necessary. I’m in the middle of an important tournament. I need all the confidence I can get.”

“In that case, who am I to say no?” Amusement threaded her words. “To answer your question, it was all of the above. The gloves. The legs. The sweat. And, of course, that bright, bright green. I mean, who could resist? I wanted to lick you up like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.”

Uncontrollable laughter spilled from my throat. “You sound like you’re auditioning to be a phone sex operator.”

“Hey! You said you wanted your ego stroked. Now you’re mocking me? Men.” She huffed. “So unappreciative.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re the best ego stroker in the world,” I reassured her, still laughing.

“Thank you. Also, just so you know, I wouldn’t say that during phone sex. I’d say something else. Hypothetically. If I were to have phone sex.”

There was a crackle of silence. My mirth died, and my pulse beat in my throat. The air shifted as Carina’s soft breaths filled the line, growing thicker, hotter, heavier. Heat coiled through me as I imagined what she looked like right now—her lips parted, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark with the same hunger simmering inside me.