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“If you ever did. Watch me.”

“I did,” I blurt out, my nails digging into his skin.

“Yeah?”

“I did watch you play. Always.”

I was there to support Lucas, not ogle his best friend, but I did.

I noticed every goal he made, every pass, every dribble, and then hated myself for doing it.

“I don’t know anything about soccer,” I go on, “but I always thought you were... magnificent.”

“Magnificent.”

“Yes. The way you,” I look for a word, “moved. The way you glided across the field. Like the wind. Like something wild and free. Unstoppable.”

He isn’t named the Daredevil for nothing.

He was always reckless and fast. A risktaker.

It both angered and impressed his coaches and commentators. They talked about it often enough. He’d do things — run impossibly fast, flip backward in the air, send the ball flying through the stadium — like no one else.

Not even Lucas.

Even though Lucas was the captain, it was always Reign that they talked about. It was always him that they praised for making the impossible possible.

“And then every time he kissed you in front of me,” he says roughly, his fingers grazing close,so very close, to my breasts, “I wanted to break his fucking face.”

“You d-didn’t,” I gasp out, holding on to him harder.

“And then of course, you’d be crying over him because that’s who you are but I wouldn’t care. I’d still do what I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Do what?”

“Throw you over my shoulder and take you away.”

Like he did tonight after his fight.

And the fact that he wanted to do italways, makes me breathlessly ask, “Where?”

“Somewhere away from him. Somewhere I could wipe your pretty tears off and make you kiss me the way you kissed him.”

We’re so close now due to his maneuverings.

That every frantic, hiccuppy breath I take, my chest drags against his.

My tits drag against his tattoo.

“That’s not…” I shake my head. “That’s not nice.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He chuckles softly. “And if you don’t like that, you’re not going to like what I tell you next.”

“What?”

“That every time you glared at me,” he lowers his voice, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I’d get hard.”

I shudder. “You’d…”

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