“What’s a Sugar Rush?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, a shiver coursing through her. “Is that a play?”
“No, it’s my thing. It’s what I do. I eat a shit ton of sugar before a game and get all amped up. It helps me run faster. Be more explosive.”
“And that really works?” she asks, her voice slightly tremulous.
“That’s what it feels like. Are you cold?”
She shrugs, the gesture turning into another shiver. “A little.”
“Do you need to go home? I’ll walk you out to your car.”
“No, but can we walk,” she replies, setting off along the sideline without waiting for me. “It’ll be warmer if we walk.”
I glance at my watch, cringing when I see the time. It’s eleven forty. It’s almost tomorrow and that early practice is creeping closer by the minute.
Still, I don’t hesitate to follow her. It feels like we just got here, to the stadium and to this place where Lilly grows warmer as the night grows colder, and I don’t want her to go.
Not yet.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LILLY
“So be serious with me.”
“I’m always serious,” Colt replies immediately.
I snicker. “That is definitely not true, but try to be serious now, okay?”
“You got it.”
“What level is this move?”
“What move?”
“This move.” I twirl my finger in the air, referencing everything from the turf to the moon. “The afterhours visit to the field. The cute dog.”
“Kat.”
When she hears her name Kat stops in the middle of the field to watch us walking. When she sees we’re not leaving her she goes back to her business, chewing on her ball and running across the field at random. Her hot breath bursts from her mouth in frosty puffs that mark her trail like breadcrumbs.
“Fine. Kat,” I agree softly so she doesn’t hear. “What level is this? Because for the average guy this is boss level, but I think you’re working on a whole other scale than most men.”
“That’s true,” he agrees unabashedly.
“So, what level is this for you? Is it like introductory or intermediate maybe?”
“Why does it matter?”
“I like to know on what level I’m being played.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not playing you. This isn’t a move. I’ve never done this before.”
I cast him a wary glance, one that tells him in no uncertain terms that I do not believe him.
He laughs at my incredulity. “You were there when Ray saw Kat. I’ve never brought her here before because I’ve never brought any girl here before.”
“Nope, not buying it.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. It’s unbelievable that this is not a page in your playbook.”
He steps in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. His body towers over mine. It blots out the lights behind him like heavy clouds on the horizon. He drapes me in his shadow and his scent that rolls over me on the cold wind rushing across the field. It’s woodsy, the way he smells. Like cedar and soap. I catch myself breathing it in deeply, holding it in my lungs as I wait and wonder where this new wind will take me.
“You want to see one of my plays?” he asks softly, his voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it. It rumbles in the air around me sending my hair on end, goosebumps racing across my skin. “This is what it looks like.” He takes a step closer. His eyes are hooded, his chin lowered to look at me with hunger and heat in his every feature. “This is what it feels like.” He runs his fingertips across mine and into my palm. It’s faint and tickling. I’d laugh but my breath is frozen in my lungs. He dips his head lower, his lips closing in on mine. “Do you want to know what it tastes like, Lilly?”
God, yes.
But what I want worse is to be able to breathe. I can’t. And I can’t pull away. His eyes are too blue, his stare too intense, his hand too soft, his mouth too close. I’m remembering his almost kiss in the kitchen and every synapse in my brain is firing at once, all of it crashing together into one crazy, manic thought that’s screaming YES!
I lean into his touch. Toward his lips.
Colt takes a step back. His smile is cocky, his entire demeanor changing in an instant.
“That’s my introductory move,” he tells me plainly. “You don’t wanna know what my boss level looks like.”
I blink hard. “Fuck you,” I whisper.
He gives me that shit eating grin, the one that makes other men burn with enmity. That makes girls burn with excitement. The one that makes me so stupid that I almost forget how angry and embarrassed I am about falling for that act.
My cheeks are flaming, my eyes sharp as flint, when I tell him coldly, “Eat me, Avery.”
His grin only grows. "With a spoon, Hendricks. With a spoon."
I look away, shaking my head in annoyance, and I’m immediately thinking about leaving. I’m thinking that this is why. This is why I wanted to stay away from him, because I don’t want to get sucked into his game. He’s a player, plain and simple. He’s everything I don’t want, no matter how much my body tries to tell me otherwise.