Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,96

pleasure surged through me. The first jet of heat struck me deep.

I blinked through tears as he pulled me close. The shudders crippled me, and the only word I could breathe, say, think, feel was his name.

Another promise he had made.

And one that would come true again and again.

I slipped from him, curling against his body.

But I knew Lachlan. He wasn’t done, not yet, not even after a full game and explosion of lust and desire and love. He curled my legs over his waist and returned to me, hard, fast, and stealing a kiss.

“It might get a little rough,” he warned.

“You…or life?”

He shrugged, slipping within me once again. “Both.”

I teased him with a touch to his lips. “It doesn’t seem that bad with a husband at my side.”

“And I’ve got a wife and baby to spoil.”

“You know what?” I smiled. “I think we’re gonna be just fine, Charming.”

Lachlan’s Epilogue

I followed Jack to the sidelines after the time-out. We both stared at the clock.

Third down. Five minutes remaining. Ten points behind. Stuck on the Tigers’ thirty-yard line.

“Give it to me, Jack.”

I didn’t take a drink or a breather, and I forgot the last unsuccessful play. My bruises and pain faded. I shouted at my quarterback for the ball, and I didn’t care if half the stadium heard me.

“Give it to me.”

Jack glanced to our offensive coordinator. He’d been running the team while Coach Thompson took a four game suspension for his involvement in the scandal. He left the decision to our quarterback.

“You want it?” Jack asked.

“You fucking know I do.”

“Think you can handle it, rookie?” He grinned. “You ready for it?”

“Fucking. Give. It. To. Me.”

He tossed the playbook to the coordinator and jogged with me to the huddle.

“Your ass better be wide fucking open,” he said.

“And we shouldn’t tell our wives about this conversation.”

“Get my touchdown, we got a deal.”

“If I get us two, will you stop filling my car with popcorn?”

“Gotta impress me first, Charming.”

The whistles blew. We huddled up—the team silent, panting, and sweating. Time ticked down in the most important game of our season. The league had smacked us hard, taking away draft choices and investigating the coaches. But this game—this Monday night in front of the entire country?

This was how we’d show the world the Rivets weren’t cheaters.

We’d prove we were the best team on the field.

Jack called the play, and we lined up. My role was deceptive. We showed run. I went in motion, crossing behind the line and shifting so we were heavy on the right side.

Jack snapped the ball, and I broke from the block, bursting up the field.

I counted the seconds in my head.

Three. Two. One.

I hooked back. The ball threaded directly into my arms. I snatched the fucker out of the air and sprinted.

A corner dove at me. I spun.

The safety leapt in my path. Fucking child’s play.

I wove to the left, tip-toed against the sideline, and cut to the middle, dodging the other safety and breaking free into the open field.

No one could stop me. I crashed into the end zone at full-speed, ducking away from a defender as the stadium turned hysterical—screaming, cheering, stomping their feet.

I slowed before colliding with the one woman aiming her camera. Elle positioned herself in the perfect spot—as if she knew exactly where the ball was coming, how I’d run it, and where I’d end up.

And maybe she did know.

She was quick to dodge me, and her beautiful smile was greater than any six points I’d ever scored in my life.

I tossed her the ball. She juggled it with her camera.

“That’s for Bast!” I shouted at her.

“Where’s mine?”

“It’s coming, Red! You wait right there.”

We kicked the extra-point, and I hauled Jack with me to confront a pacing Cole Hawthorne, staring at the field with that crazed blood-lust that made me glad he was on our team.

I pointed at Cole, regretting it as he stared, ready to snap my finger off. Not the time to piss off The Beast.

“Stop them,” I said. “Get that ball for us.”

“The fuck you think I’m doing out there, rookie?”

“I’m gonna win this fucking game.” I forced Cole to look me in the eye. “Get us the ball back!”

Talking like that would probably end with a snapped neck, but Cole nodded.

“Win this game.” He put his helmet on. “I’ll bring you their receiver’s head, but you gotta put the ball in the end zone.”

Jack thrived on the enthusiasm. He had me follow him on the sidelines, rushing lineman to lineman,