‘I want to make you happy.’ His words were sweet. Which was exactly the opposite of what I wanted.
As sleep dragged him under, I lay awake, squeezing around him, imagining a thousand filthy, brutal things I’d never dare ask for. And knowing,aching, that I never would.
ELEVEN
JAKE
The hit to my shoulder sent me flying. I should have seen it coming, but my head was too full of Sarah. And Drew. Flashes of our time in the dining room. Of hunger-filled gazes and filthy acts. My breath exited in a harsh puff as I ate dirt.
Thank God it was only training. Being distracted in a proper match could cost me my future. The future my mum had been directing me toward all my life.
The future I craved.
Craved.
I lay in the dirt as the whistle went, signalling the end of the session.
A shadow passed over me as Drew stood above me, extending a hand.
‘You all right, mate?’ he asked as he put his thick muscles to work hauling my ass off of the ground.
‘Yeah.’ I swiped a hand through my sweaty hair, clawing mud through it. Thick, brown dirt coated my right side where I’d slid on the field, extra viscous thanks to the previous night’s pounding rain. ‘Should have been paying attention.’
‘Got something on your mind?’ Drew’s words were light, but the undercurrent spoke volumes. It was like he screamed,is it me?Somewhere inside my head.
‘Just all this stuff with Sarah. And the pressure of not fucking it up. And not fucking it in front of the scout.’ We walked toward the changing rooms at a leisurely pace, not in a rush to get showered with the rest of the rowdy, mud-caked team.
‘She might like it if you fucked her in front of the scout,’ Drew joked, his smirk looking every bit as devilish as always.
‘So funny,’ I said with a playful shove to his shoulder. Not that it did much; while Drew may be shorter than me, the guy was built like a brick shithouse. The pink striped shorts were tight enough on all of us, but on Drew they were practically hot pants. That scrap of material couldn’t restrain those thick-ass thighs.
Steam enveloped us as we entered the changing rooms, an array of skin on show. Not that anyone cared. We’d all been getting changed around one team or another for as long as I could remember.
‘Pub?’ Elliot asked as I passed him.
‘As if you need to ask,’ Drew answered for me with a laugh.
The guys were spilling out of the shower room, wrapped in towels, skin pinked from the hot water.
Drew tore off his top, throwing it into the wash bin. Dark mandalas snaked their way up his right arm, spanning out across his chest and encroaching onto his throat. Another defiance towards my mother. She detested tattoos, so of course he came home with the biggest, brashest one the day he turned eighteen. A constant reminder of how he refused to be brought to order no matter how she tried.
I adored his rebellion.
Because I’d never been brave enough for my own.
A dark trail skirted his stomach, leading like a treasure map into his shorts.
Fuck. Why on earth was I even thinking about my stepbrother’s shorts and what was underneath?
I followed suit, stripping off my soaked clothing and tossing them in the bin before heading into the steam-filled shower room.
A few showers were still occupied as I took a spot beneath one of the metal heads, letting hot water cascade down over me. Taking a slow inhale, I counted to ten before exhaling.
The tiles were smooth beneath my hand as I leant against them, using my other to soap myself up. The room cloyed with the bitter, herby soap scent and the remnants of sticky males. Water struck the surrounding floor with a heavy patter, gurgling as it disappeared in the central drain like a mud-laced human soup.
I zoned out as I washed the shampoo out of my hair, turning to face the stream and closing my eyes.
Moments later, I flinched as fingers trailed down my spine.
