“Mate, I’m going to get some kip in before the match.”
I spun around, prepared to apologize for my intrusion, but whatever apology I had planned immediately disappeared from my lips. Because standing in front of me was a completely naked, completely gorgeous guy.
Emmy
Hello.
It was a good thing I wasn’t still carrying the tea tray because I would have dropped the whole thing all over the floor. Whoever he was, he had been toweling his hair off when he walked into the room, so he hadn’t noticed that I wasn’t his “mate.”
But I noticed him. Oh, dear god did I notice him.
He was tall and lean and built. And naked. Did I mention the totally naked part?
It had been a long time since I had seen a naked man. And the last naked man I had seen had nothing on this guy. He was big. All over. He was all muscle, his bicep flexing as he rubbed the towel over his still obscured face. His legs were strong and covered in a dusting of dark hair. He had a six-pack, possibly an eight-pack, though I’d need to move in closer to confirm that. My foot took an automatic step towards him before I could stop myself. Of course, that was the exact moment he pulled his towel away from his face.
“You’re not Declan,” he said, looping the towel over his shoulders, totally unconcerned with his nudity.
I shook my head, telling myself to keep my eyes on his face.
Not that it was that difficult. It was a damn good-looking face. Blue eyes that had a naughty twinkle to them, dimples in each cheek, a square jaw, and a head of messy black hair. He was better than Henry Cavill and Tom Hardy combined.
“I’m lost,” I blurted out, realizing I had just been standing there staring at him for who knows how long.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Are you certain?” he asked, finally wrapping the towel around his waist. “Because I’m pretty sure you look like my good luck charm.”
I blushed.
“I’m looking for the equipment manager’s office,” I stammered.
He reached for a pile of clothes that was sitting on a bench nearby.
“Jeff?” he asked before shaking his head. “Naw, Jeff doesn’t deserve a visit from a pretty American girl like you.”
His accent practically made me swoon. Not that his looks hadn’t gotten me halfway there already.
“Me, on the other hand . . .” He pulled on a pair of shorts and, regrettably, a shirt. “I’ve been very, very good lately.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” The retort came out before I could stop it.
He laughed and the sound made my nipples hard. He was so gorgeous. And he was looking at me like he thought I was pretty fantastic as well. Or like he was a lion and I was a gazelle. Either way, I was feeling very, very flushed. And wishing more and more that I had some of Paige’s flirtation skills.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“What’s yours?” I wanted to know.
His eyebrows went up as if he was surprised. But he recovered quickly, and held out a hand.
“I’m Charlie,” he told me.
His hand was rough and warm. Sexy. I couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like against my skin. All over my skin.
“Emmy.” I released him and stepped back. Focus, I told myself. You still have to do your job. You still have a tea tray to deliver. “I, um, should go,” I told him.
“Now that’s a shame.” He sat down to pull on a pair of shoes.
“If you could just tell me how to get to the equipment manager’s office, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Would you believe I don’t mind you in my hair?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.
I couldn’t stop blushing. But he was so, so hot.
“I really should take this to him.” I gestured toward the tray.
“He’s three doors over.” Charlie had finished putting on his shoes and stood. “To the left.”
“Thank you.” I was about to turn, but he put his hand on my arm.
Sparks of electricity shot through me. My knees wobbled, but I managed to stay upright.
“You know, I have a tradition.” He moved closer to me, and I could feel heat coming off his body. My heart pounded in my chest. “Something I like to do for good luck.”
“Oh?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but failing completely.
He grinned. “Oh yeah.” He came even closer, his hand sliding down to my hip. “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out with this tradition.”
“Depends on what it is.” My voice sounded all breathy.
“Just a little kiss,” said Charlie. “For luck.”
I realized then that he was wearing a white tennis uniform. I was in the locker room with a Wimbledon player who wanted to kiss me for luck. It was crazy. It was unreal. It was something that would happen to Paige, not to me.
But it was happening to me. And suddenly all the reasons I had given myself and Paige about why I wasn’t interested in a fling totally flew out the window.
Before I could stop myself, I grabbed Charlie’s shirt in my hands and gave him the best good-luck kiss I could muster.
His lips were firm and hot against mine. If he was surprised by my forwardness, he didn’t dwell on it, immediately taking charge of the kiss. His arm went around my waist, pulling me flush against him as he ran his tongue along the seam of my lips. Mmmm . . . I could feel his muscles flex beneath my hands, which I had uncurled, spreading my fingers across his chest as he deepened the kiss. His tongue tangled with mine and his other hand slid downward, cupping my ass and hauling me even tighter against his body.
Damn.
It was the best kiss I’d ever had in my life and I couldn’t get enough. He tasted all male, sweat and heat, his tongue taking control of my mouth. He knew exactly what he wanted and I was more than happy to give it to him. I had never felt so desired—the evidence of this pressing hard against my stomach.
Arching against him, I felt him groan and it empowered me. I slid my hands upward, twisting in his damp hair, wanting more, more, more.
Through the haze of desire, I heard the door open behind us.
“Davenport!” a voice barked, forcing us apart.
Standing in the doorway was a man in his mid-forties with a frown on his face.
“What the bloody hell is this?” he demanded.
I felt my face go red, and I crossed my arms over my chest, staring down at the floor as if I had been caught doing something bad. Which, technically, I probably had been. Or had been about to be doing.
“Just a little kiss for luck, Coach.” Charlie put his arm around my waist, but I scooted away, reality sinking in.
This was so embarrassing. So unlike me. I didn’t just make out with guys I had barely met! Guys who I had seen naked only a few moments before. This was all happening out of order. And it wasn’t supposed to be happening at all.