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And rocking a whole lot of unspent arousal that I may or may not have worked out with my shower head, imagining a man with black hair and blue eyes from my personal spank bank to help me get off.
CHAPTER FIVE
SYLVIE
Aweek later I satin the bleachers with the rest of Rippton U, screaming for the Lacrosse team in the semifinals and by no way fixating on Beau Bennet.
“Stop staring. The ball is up the other end,” Raleigh hissed out of the side of her mouth, shaking the giant pom pom we made the year before from some truly terrible costumes. “Run, Nate!” she screamed to her boyfriend who, by some miracle, ran half the field and took an impossible catch, throwing it to their other attacker while Beau had a quiet word with a midfielder.
“He’s notallthe way up the pitch,” I muttered under my breath, low enough that no one else should have heard, but Raleigh gave me a side eye.
“Uh huh. YES!!” She screamed when Rippton scored.
I clapped along with everyone else but stayed seated. The choice seemed to be a good one, especially so when Beau glanced up into the stands, a hand shielding his helmet from the glaring midday sun as he tried to pick out individual people.
The energy emanating off him changed today. Usually he played it up with the cheer team, frequently dragging Nate or Dylan into his shenanigans, but today was...different. Beau walked the field, barely playing, letting the others show him up though we all knew who led the team. Beau was formidable, and often brought a win in on his own, though the newcomers to this year's team, mostly Nate and Dylan, stepping up set the team up for a championship chance that Rippton hadn’t seen in years. I knew they had a new coach, and that might have helped but...Beau.
Everything seemed to come back to him.
Thankfully Raleigh inurred herself enough into the Kingsman way of life not to question too much about my date with the King of Assholes, plying me afterward with cheap wine, rom coms, and carbs.
I would fucking love that girl forever.
If only I'd had her through my last break-ups. But this wasn’t like any other break up – hell it wasn’t like Beau and I technically had anything to stay with. I was just his plaything. A toy. And he’d cast me aside.
Well, no fucking longer.
Because no amount of self made orgasms would replace the way he kissed and touched and fucked me.
And that simple, my panties had a wet spot while I was in the middle of a crowd and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If I didn’t have an idea how stinky a sweat-filled locker room could be, I’d strip off and wait for him there.
Yup, I was that hard up for the guy who fucking killed for me.
Because no matter how many times I played the scene over and over in my head, that was what he’d done. He hadn’t been there in time, I got shot, and in an epic rich kid temper tantrum he pulled the trigger.
For me.
