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After that, things turn nasty.
Miguel’s guarding me like a hawk. And he’s touching me. Every chance he gets. Although I know it’s coming, there is no bracing for the way those calloused fingers run over my skin. Or stopping the reaction of my body to him.
And he knows it.
He fucking knows it.
Miguel jumps to his feet, a pleased smirk on his mouth, aftertackling me to the ground for the hundredth time. He offers me a hand, but I shoot him a glare and push upright myself, dusting the earth off my ass as I get back to my team.
“We’ve gotta get this one if we want to win,” Hayden murmurs as our team huddles together.
“Good luck with that, Miguel’s been a pain in the ass.” Lucas glances over his shoulder, and I catch a sight of the other team discussing their strategy.
“The guy probably thinks he’s playing in the pros.”
“Well, he is playing in the pros,” Jamie points out. “It’s not his problem you’ve been out of the game for so long.”
Lucas shoves him away. “Shut up, Jamie.”
I get in between them. “Okay, just throw me the ball.”
“You?” Lucas’ skepticism is clear. “He’s been riding your ass this whole time.”
My lips press in a tight line, but before I can say anything, Hayden slaps him over the head. “If she says to give her the ball, give her the ball.”
Callie, who’s been somewhat of a referee this whole time, blows the whistle. “Last play!”
“Time to hustle people. I’m getting hungry,” Emmett yells.
I roll my eyes, and a few people boo him as we get on the line.
Miguel flashes me a blinding smile. “Ready to lose, Red?”
“In your dreams.”
“Mhmm… That could be arranged.”
Arrogant asshole.
“You think you’re the man?” I flash him a smile as I bounce on the balls of my feet.
Jamie snaps the ball to Nixon, and I start to run. Miguel lunges toward me, but I manage to duck to my right and slip out of his reach. Nixon throws the ball, which lands perfectly in my arms, so I run toward our makeshift end zone. People cheer forme from the sidelines, and my hair whips around me as I turn around to find Miguel just behind me.
“This is the best you can do, Mr. Hotshot Football Player?” I ask as I do a celebratory dance.
But then strong arms wrap around me, and my body collides with a hard chest.
Hard,nakedchest.
All the air is kicked out of my lungs as he lifts me up, my feet dangling in the air.
“Miguel!” I yell in protest, but the only thing it does is make his grip on me tighten.
“I warned you,” he whispers in my ear, his low voice sending chills running down my spine.
“I didn’t do anything,” I mutter. “Put me down.”
“Can’t do that, Red. You wouldn’t want people to get an eyeful, now would you?”
