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Fuck!
I SEARCH ALL OFcampus and finally manage to find Carter on the football field, practicing with the rest of the team. They're in the middle of running plays when I storm onto the field. The guys stop to stare at me, but when Carter sees me, he rests his hands on his knees and huffs out a laugh.
"Aye!" Mason yells. "No girls on the field during practice!"
He throws the ball toward me, but I catch it with ease. In my three-inch heels, I punt the ball three-quarters of the way across the field. Mason's jaw drops as he watches it soar over his head.
"Why is that so fucking hot?"
Carter turns to glare at him. "Go get the damn ball, Lockhart, before I shove it up your ass."
When he faces me again, I slam my hand into his chest. "Where's Davi's diary?"
"Davi has a diary?" he asks, but he's clearly lying.
"Don't play stupid. Beverly told me you took it," I sneer. "Was that the errand you had to run this morning? Stealing what doesn't belong to you?"
He chuckles dryly. "If you hadn't run out of there before I got back, you would have known that my errands were making sure your little ass doesn't get arrested."
"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't need you to save me!"
"And how many times do I have to tell you that I don't care?"
The two of us stand in a face-off, neither one of us backing down or looking away. I hate that standing here; I can feel the same energy we had last night—that overwhelming need to tear each other's clothes off. And when he smirks and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips, my pussy clenches.
Another teammate of Carter's groans. "Are you guys going to fuck in the middle of the field? Because if you are, I'm going home."
Carter's brows raise, as if it's something he would actually consider, but the blow of a whistle pulls his attention away. The coach comes our way.
"There will be no fucking on the turf," he says. "Trayland, is there an issue here?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing I can't handle, sir."
Oh, please. He can't handle me. He couldn't even handle Davi.
The coach nods. "Then handle it over on the sidelines. Some of us have a practice to get back to."
Carter obeys him immediately and grabs my arm to drag me off the field. The feeling of his touch on my skin does things I'm not willing to acknowledge right now, so I quickly pull myself from his grasp. He turns to face me when we're just over the sideline.
"Look," I say, calmer this time, "just give me the diary, and we won't have any issues."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
The fact that he's clearly lying irks me beyond belief and sends frissons of anxiety through me at the thought he might have destroyed it. That diary was the closest I've felt to Davi since she died, and now it's just gone.
I run my fingers through my hair and glare at him. "Fuck you."
He smiles, and I hate the way I react to it. "Don't threaten me with a good time."
"That will never happen again. I was drunk."
No part of him believes me as he laughs. "You weren't. I'm guessing you had a shot or two, but I've seen you drink. You were absolutely not drunk."
I scoff. "It doesn't matter. It was a one-time thing."
Stepping closer, I can feel his breath on my skin and see each individual bead of sweat roll down his neck. I don't make eye contact with him, afraid that I might do something I'll regret if I do, but that doesn't stop him. He runs his fingertips down my arm.
"That's where you're wrong," he growls. "I told you last night, and I'll tell you again. Now that I've had you, now that I know how you taste, there's no turning back. You're going to crave me as bad as I crave you, and you won't be able to scratch that itch until you're under me again, screaming my name as you come all over my dick."
