I swallow hard, my breath heavy in my chest. He gazes at me through wet lashes, those eyes of his laced with intensity that I can feel deep inside.
I have to be professional. I have to hold it together. And the vow, think of the stupid vow. But damn, if he kissed me, that would unleash a beast of my own. There would be nothing stopping me from ripping off the rest of his clothes and fucking him here in this muddy field.
God, I pray, briefly closing my eyes, I know praying for dick isn’t a new thing for me, but if you could please make muddy field sex with Lachlan McGregor happen, I’ll erect a church in your name.
“Here,” Lachlan says, voice gruff. My eyes snap open as he pushes the ball out ahead of us. “You tackled me. This is me releasing the ball.”
No, no, no. Forget the game. Make a play on me.
But Lachlan hasn’t forgotten the game. He nudges me with his elbow. “Go get it.”
I toss my hormones aside for the moment, give him a brave nod, and reach for the ball.
The minute it’s in my grasp, feeling so large and heavy that it makes me want to come up with a million sexual innuendos, he bellows at me, “Now, run!”
Agh! Those are some powerful lungs. I scamper to my feet and immediately start running back down the field toward the goal. I slip a few times, my feet slapping the mud, but it’s basically like running on ice.
I fall backward, completely ungraceful.
Splat!
Mud flies everywhere.
“Are you okay?” I can hear Lachlan yelling in the distance.
Though I’m winded, I take a deep breath and quickly get to my feet. I’m not going to stop now, even when I can hear him approaching close behind me.
I start running again, my own muscles straining as I try and go as fast as I can without eating shit. I don’t care that I’m absolutely filthy, that I’m scampering like a colt, that I can barely see through the rain in my face. I’m going for the try and I am fucking loving it.
I’m only a few yards from the end. I know Lachlan is going slow, that he’s going to let me win, but it doesn’t matter because—
Splat.
I slip again and faceplant straight into the mud. I immediately try and get to my feet, but I feel Lachlan looming over me like a storm cloud. He steps on either side of my body, straddling me, then drops to his knees, so my sides are between his legs.
“Nice try,” he says gruffly.
“Is that a pun?” I say, spitting out grass. I attempt to turn over but his tree-trunk thighs grip me in place. I’m not complaining.
“It would have been a pun if you made the try,” he says. “You didn’t. I stopped you.”
“I fell,” I say through gritted teeth. “I was already down.”
I hear him grunt from behind me. “And I wasn’t about to tackle you. So let’s just pretend you didn’t fall, and I brought you down, like in a normal game. Now release the ball.”
“Fuck that,” I mumble, holding the ball tight beneath me.
“It’s the rules,” he says, leaning over me so his lips are near my ear. I can’t be sure but I’m almost certain he has an erection and its pressing against the top of my ass. He said he wasn’t wearing a cup so it has to be all him.
Please let it be all him.
“Fuck your rules,” I manage to say.
He pauses. “No rules, then? All right.”
I feel him lean back, easing off me slightly.
Then his hands are down at my shoulders and underneath my arms and his fingers are going crazy.
I yelp in surprise. My fucking god, is he tickling me?
“What?” I cry out before bursting into nervous giggles. “You can’t tickle!”
“No rules,” he says, and I can hear the enjoyment in his voice.
“Stop!” I yell, laughing again. “Please, this is torture!”
“Release the ball.”
But I can’t. I’m laughing too hard, my body attempting to curl up into a ball even though I’m between him like a vise.
“I’m going to bite your leg,” I warn him, trying to twist around and see if I can get a nip of his grass-stained knee. I’m flexible but I’m not that flexible.
“Release the ball.”
“Fine!” I shout, but since I can’t move I can’t even get it out from under me. “Fine, you win, you can have the ball.”
Suddenly he gets up and I’m free. I roll over onto my back and stare at him, holding up the ball. If he was one step closer to my face and his shorts weren’t so tight, I could try and see up them.
He looks down at me, not smiling, but there is a hint of triumph in those expressive eyes.
I shake the ball at him. “Aren’t you going to take it?”
He continues to stare. I can’t tell what the hell he is thinking. I feel like he’s trying to memorize me.
After a few beats and as the rain falls down on us, he takes the ball with one hand then grabs my hand with the other.
“Come on,” he says. “I think we’ve had enough for today.”
I’m hauled effortlessly to my feet, my body mere inches from his. We’re both breathing hard, like we just had epic sex. I can only imagine.
“Hope that gave your article some insight,” he tells me, voice low and eyes focused on mine. I watch the streams of water run down his face. I barely feel the cold that’s slowly seeping into my bones, the feeling in my muscles that warns me I’ll be sore tomorrow.