“You’ve got this, ten!” I cup my hands around my mouth and jump when Bishop pulls off a cool twist that cages the ball between his feet. “Get the ball!”
Bishop must hear me, because his wide smile is energetic as he drives down the field, passing to Devlin. Together they sprint as a coordinated force. Their opponents don’t know how to counter their attack. Devlin has the ball and he lines up a shot, kicking it hard. It flies in a beautiful arc and misses the diving goalie’s outstretched hands, landing in the back of the net.
The whistle sounds, confirming Devlin’s goal.
“Woo! Go Coyotes!”
I have no idea what’s come over me, but I’m getting sucked into the game. It’s becoming easier to cheer them on. I don’t have to fake my enthusiasm. Most of the team smiles at me when they run by, like I’m their personal one-woman cheer squad.
Halfway through the match, I remember what’s coming at the end. I freeze mid-clap.
Crap.
The game has swept me up so much, I forgot that cheering isn’t enough. If I want to get paid, I have to kiss Devlin.
It’s the last thing I’d ever do, but…
As my eyes track him moving around the field like a bullet, my stomach flips. I’m not dreading a kiss. The energy of the game is feeding my adrenaline.
Heaven—or maybe hell—help me, I’m anticipating his lips on mine.
The resounding truth in that thought makes me sink my teeth into my cheek.
I want to kiss Devlin Murphy. Even if it’s fake.
Devlin catches my eye. His expression is hungry. My heart pounds faster and my breath hitches.
God, I’m messed up.
Devlin winks before stealing the ball lightning-quick from #11, a vicious grin stretching his face as he directs the ball around. Eleven seems pissed off. Devlin heads for the net, unstoppable as he closes in on the target. I hold my breath, my palms tingling. If Devlin scores now, the game is over.
“Go!” I yell, breathless.
Devlin lines up the perfect shot between the two defenders. His foot connects with the ball and my heart stops as it soars into the net.
I clap so hard my hands hurt. This is only a practice match, but something about the win has my excitement exploding free.
Bishop and the other Silver Lake High players yell like banshees. Defeat hangs over the opposing team. Devlin circles the field with his fist in the air, ending his jog a few feet in front of me. The rest of his team’s celebration fades into background noise as Devlin’s arm slowly drops.
This is it.
His intense look pulls me in, making my feet move like I’m possessed. I’m still clapping as I reach him. My cheeks hurt from beaming.
“Nice goal.” I swallow thickly.
Devlin makes a rumbling sound in response, stepping closer. His hands find my hips. He smells musky as he hovers his lips over mine, hair hanging in his face. Devlin breathes out and it coasts over my mouth. I swallow again.
An ache twists low in my stomach and between my legs.
Devlin cups my jaw. His warm touch lights me up. It feels like damnation, luring me in and dragging me under into the sweetest hell.
He brushes his thumb over my cheek and pins me under his heavy-lidded gaze. “You want to earn that bonus?”
His words sting with the truth of why we’re doing this, but I don’t care. I’ll face that later. I tilt my head up to accept the kiss.
With a quiet growl, Devlin covers my mouth with his, immediately pushing his tongue past my lips.
When we come together, we’re volatile. Rough. A violent storm hellbent on battering each other.
He claims my lips with power, control, the same unstoppable force from the field putting me under his spell. My fingers fist in his white and green jersey.
The kiss heats like a five alarm fire, blazing and engulfing us in desire. I didn’t expect him to kiss me like this, like I’m his favorite meal. I don’t know if he is equally taken aback, but judging by the muffled groan that vibrates against my chest, I have an idea.
A sound hitches in the back of my throat as his tongue slides with mine.
Devlin’s fingers press into my cheek and jaw. He wraps his arm around my waist, holding me close like he wants to be the only one to possess every part of me.
The ache between my legs intensifies. This is too much.
I push away from him, gasping. I press my hand over my swollen lips.
Devlin’s eyes are hooded, his pupils bottomless pits that swallow his dark eyes. He drags his fingers over the sides of his mouth.
His attention falls to my tingling lips. He tightens his hold on my waist, like he wants to pull me into another kiss. I plant a hand on his chest to stop him from sweeping me up again.
Before either of us can say anything about the kiss, Devlin’s teammates crash into us, celebrating the win.
“Yeah! Man, that was such a good shot!”
“Did you see that play?”
“The devil is back!”
They absorb me into their huddle, patting me on the back. Even Trent and Sean seem happy to have me there.
“Good job cheering, Davis.” Bishop ruffles Devlin’s hair. “You should come to our official matches, too. You’re a good luck charm.”
I give him a strained laugh, feeling weird about being crushed in the middle of a huddle of tall soccer players. They all stink. It’s not nice and earthy like Devlin’s scent.
“I think you guys are fine without me. Don’t you win all the time?”
“Yeah, but not like that.” Bishop nods to Devlin. “I haven’t seen you play that way since JV. Like you gave a damn about winning.”
Devlin brushes him off. He breaks free of the huddle and walks away, leaving me in the middle of the herd of sweaty soccer players.
“Wait!” I push through the tangle of limbs and struggle to get out. I jog after Devlin to catch up. “Where are you going?”
“Shower.”
“Okay,” I drag out on a long syllable. “And—what you owe me?”
Devlin stops, cutting a heated look my way. “You want more?” He huffs out a sensual laugh, the curve of his mouth obscene when he sweeps his eyes over me. He grabs my wrist. “Fine, come to the showers. I’ll pin you against the tiles and have your screams echoing through the whole locker room.”
My entire face flames and my insides rearrange. What’s his problem? I did what he wanted.
“Stop being such a dick!” I yank my hand out of his tight grasp. Lowering my voice, I ask, “What about my money?”
The shift in Devlin’s expression is subtle, but I can see the way he shuts me out. I don’t get what his deal is, but somehow I’ve pissed him off.
“You’ll get paid,” he snarls, stalking away from me.
I watch his back retreat into the building, no longer caring that the short hem of the cheer skirt moves in the breeze.
Nineteen
Devlin
Hot water runs over my head, sluicing down my arms. They’re braced against the shower tile in the locker room, flexing with each harsh breath I drag into my lungs. The water doesn’t drown out the pounding rush of blood in my ears or distract from how hard my cock is.
I won’t touch myself while thinking about her.