The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,30

face him. He wasn’t supposed to know I was here. God, this was a bad idea. I never should’ve come.

“Oh hey,” I say like I’m surprised to see him here.

Idiot, you came here with him.

“I didn’t know you were coming to see me.” He smirks, sweat clinging to his forehead. He looks devilishly handsome like the kind of handsome that keeps you up at night, that makes you wish for happily ever afters and sweet nothings. Cage is none of those things, though.

His midnight-black hair appears wet, and he smells of sweat and man, and it makes me shiver. His firm, yet huge body looks even bigger in his football gear and like a bow pulled too tight, my entire body tightens at the sight before me. My ovaries are seconds from exploding. I’ve never reacted to a man like this before, and I don’t know what it is about Cage at this moment that makes me want to jump him. It terrifies me and excites me all at once. It’s completely unacceptable and morally wrong, and yet I want to lift a middle finger and say fuck you to my brain for five seconds.

“I wasn’t,” I lie, my face feels like it’s on fire. I look down at the concrete floor, but not before I catch his eyes roaming my body. There is a primal hunger in their depths like he wants to tear the dress from my body and devour me whole.

Would you let him? No! No, you would not. Maybe… maybe not.

“She just came with me,” Mia cuts in, “I wanted to see Blackthorn play and… there is a guy I kind of like, so I made her come with me.”

“Ah, gotcha.” He nods, but somehow, he doesn’t look convinced. That changes in zero point two seconds when Mia continues.

“We’re actually going to his house for a party now. I would invite you, but it’s for the Blackthorn team only. You understand, right?”

Cage’s whole body stiffens, and his hands curl up into tight fists at his sides, the veins in his arms bulge, and his eyes turn stormy, dark. He’s like a hurricane making landfall and gaining strength with each mile he destroys.

Why is he so furious all of a sudden? Why does he even care what I’m doing?

I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but Mia tugs on my arm. “Time to go, Blair.”

For one brief second, I stand there watching. I see the unhinged animal inside of him, and I want to lift the lock, to release him and see what it’s like to be the prey. I want to feel his lips on mine. For one single moment, I want to be free of the restraint that I put on myself.

Mia gives my hand another tug, her gaze saying hurry it up, and this time, I let her pull me away. I don’t look back as I’m dragged down and out of the tunnel, my lungs burning and my thighs rubbing together with every step I take.

By the time we reach the car, I’m sweating, and it’s not just because of the walk to get here. Cage lit a fire inside of me, fanned the flames of desire. He made me want him when I had absolutely no business wanting him. He was a player with a capital P, a manwhore, the last person I should consider going near, and yet somehow, I caught a glimpse of the real him tonight, and it made me want to dive deeper and look inside of him. Football wasn’t his dream. I wasn’t sure what was, but he didn’t love the sport, not even close. I wanted to know his story and find out why he pretended to be something he wasn’t.

As we climb into the SUV, Mia turns to me, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Blair, he is so into you. Did you see how he looked at you in this dress? More importantly, how jealous he got at the mention of going to a party and seeing another guy? Fuck, the primal look in his eyes. That was hot as hell.”

“Jealous? Livid is more like it.”

“Something. He is mad that you are going to some party with other guys. What do you want to bet he will be calling and texting you later?”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Now the only question is, do I want him to text, or do I want him to leave me alone so I can forget about him?

10

Cage

We lost