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I was just beginning to unbutton my pants when the door to my room slammed open and then shut. I looked up, almost wanting to scream at the invasion, but was cut off by a charging Levi Peyton.
His hands wrapped around my neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know he was in charge. It was like some power play, a way to exert his dominance after being decimated by my words on the field earlier. And as I suspected, that was the first thing he brought up.
“You need to watch the way you talk to me out there. The cameras are always watching.”
I laughed under the pressure of his hand. Even in my bra, with my pants unzipped, I didn't feel weak. Even when he reached up from my neck to squeeze my cheeks, I didn’t feel scared.
His face was close to mine, and he was staring in my eyes waiting for me to cower to his superiority. He had a lot of nerve barging into my room, threatening me, and putting hands on me. We were, after all, in a very precarious position as coach and ref in the very public eye of the NFL.
“Likewise,Coach,” I spat at him. “You better watch the way you talk to me as well.”
“Or what?”
“Exactly, or what?”
He backed away just slightly, enough to gauge the meaning behind my eyes. But I gave nothing away. You didn’t find success in my job–both jobs–by being a coward. Did I want to lose my job before I started? No. Did I want things to get ugly between Levi and me? No.
But I didn’t fear any outcome as long as I knew I held my own and kept my dignity intact. I couldn’t change what happened in New York, and until last week, I didn’t even regret it. I was willing to bet Levi didn’t either.
Now there we were, in a battle of wills, trying to remain focused while keeping the world oblivious to our connection.
“You have a lot of nerve coming in here like this,” I whispered. I glanced up to the TV where the post-game show was waiting on Coach Peyton for a post-game interview.
“I have enough to worry about without you being on that field, distracting me.”
“Likewise.”
“Then let's agree to stay out of each other’s way.”
“Is that what you are going to do when I make a call you don't agree with?”
He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I am going to treat you like every other referee that makes shitty calls.”
“So, what should I do?”
“Do what every other ref does, ignore me.”
I laughed because he was serious but ignoring him seemed impossible. “That will be easier when you don't have your hand around my throat and your dick against my stomach.”
Like a light switching on, his brain kicked into what he was doing, and he backed away quickly. Through his joggers, I could see he had gotten hard while being pressed against me and I wanted to moan at how much I wished I was anyone else in the world so I could feel him again.
He was in too much of his own daze to notice how affected I was, and I wasn’t even sure he knew he had gotten hard while holding me. It took him a solid minute before he shook his head, adjusted his dick, and opened the door to my room. He slammed it shut when he left and instead of feeling like I won a battle, I walked myself into the shower, pants on and all, and sank to the ground.
Something told me that it would always be that way between us, because I learned that without a doubt, what made us angriest was the one thing we couldn't fix, even if we wanted to.
Our undeniable sexual tension.
Chapter8
Levi
“Again!” I shouted, hoping the guy I just beat down would get up and go for another round.
“Levi, enough man,” my brother shouted from outside the ring. “Poor guy needs a breather.”
I backed away, looking at the guy I had never met before. He agreed to spar but he had no idea he was dealing with a lunatic with so much pent-up energy. I nodded at him that I was done, and he took off out of the ring while I turned and looked to my brother.
Rhys Peyton, my little brother, had come into town to see our first preseason game and decided I needed a babysitter until I could get myself in check. He was a star soccer player for the Miami Inferno but had to miss the last few weeks of his season due to injury. Therefore, he had no plans on leaving.
