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He walks up to me, forcing me to lean back against the lockers.
I fake nonchalance, my arms folded over my chest as he rests a forearm on the wall above my head and looks down at me.
“Let me remind you that this was your idea.”
I hum in response, pensively chewing my lip. His eyes snap down to follow the movement, his gaze darkening as he takes in how my teeth dig into my plump lower lip.
I release it with an inaudible ‘pop’ and watch his eyes cloud over even further. I clear my throat and his gaze moves lazily back up to meet mine before he speaks.
“Come on, you heard Faulkner. We’re mates now. Mates who want to fuck — although only one of us is currently ready to admit that right now — but mates, nonetheless.” He tells me, one finger wrapping around a loose strand of hair. “What do you say, Silver? I’m a soon-to-be pro football player offering daily private sessions, this should be the easiest decision in the world for you.
He brings the strand up to his nose and inhales deeply, his eyes closing as he does.
Even though the gesture is innocent enough, it feels pornographic to me. Rhys moans low in his throat and opens his eyes, spearing me with his black gaze.
“Unless you’re afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”
I ignore the shiver on my skin at the nickname and focus on the gauntlet he’s just thrown.
He’s got to know that challenging me like that is the quickest way to melt away the few reservations I have about this.
“That won’t be a problem.” I promise him.
His approving hum rumbles deep in his throat as he extends his hand out to me. “Truce then?”
I slip my hand into his much larger one and watch it wrap around mine, trapping me. Something jolts through my fingers at our contact, the most we’ve ever touched before.
It’s like an electrical current running up my arm and dispersing through the rest of my body with a shot of energy.
One touch is enough to trigger every internal alarm in my body.
He shakes my hand once, squeezing it tightly and possessively in his grip.
I swallow thickly as I look up at the charmingly evil smile on his face and hope I didn't agree to a deal that’ll end up being as disastrous as the one Ariel made with Ursula.
One thing I do know is I need to fortify my defenses around me as much as possible if I’m going to survive spending this much time around him.
“Truce, Mackley.”
???
8
Thayer
Training with Rhys starts the next morning with an excruciating workout at an ungodly hour.
It’s not yet six am when Rhys jogs to join me in the center of the pitch. He looks like the human personification of laundry freshly out the dryer.
His eyes still have the remnants of sleep in them, his hair is wild and tousled, there’s part of his pillow imprinted on his cheek and his clothes are adorably wrinkled.
His large body moves towards me with ease regardless, but he looks like a man who just recently got out of bed.
I wonder if he slept in it alone.
I push that unhelpful thought aside as he reaches me and starts rattling off the plan for today.
“You’re trying to kill me.” I tell him with a groan.
