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Page 118 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

I just didn’t care.

It was summer. I had a few weeks before the season started, I was in great shape training-wise, and I wanted to soak up every moment with Scarlett while I could.

Once the season was underway and her brother returned to town, our dynamic would change, so fuck focus. I’d worked my ass off for over a decade; I could afford a little time off.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Scarlett said, trailing her fingers up and down my thigh. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.” I wrapped my arms around her from behind and rested my chin on her shoulder. We were lazing in her bathtub, the lavender-scented bubbles barely covering her curves as we luxuriated in the quiet evening. It was Thursday so we didn’t have training, but I didn’t need that as an excuse to see her anymore. “Your practices are going well. You nailed the choreography yesterday.”

In addition to her Tuesday cast rehearsals, she was practicing pieces ofLorenaon her own after our trainings.

“Do you even know what the choreography is supposed to look like?” She sounded amused.

“Yes. It’s supposed to look like how you did it yesterday.”

Scarlett turned her head, her face stamped with good-natured exasperation. “Asher Donovan, you are too smooth for your own good.”

“Am I?” I skimmed my mouth over the curve of her shoulder and up her neck, savoring the silky-smooth feel of her skin. “Or am I just telling the truth?”

She let out a sigh of pleasure when I captured her mouth in a kiss. She tasted like sugar and strawberries, and when she slid her tongue against mine, my entire body reacted with instant, visceralneed.

Every time we kissed felt like the first fucking time. There was always another layer to unpeel.

I bracketed her waist with my hands and turned her so she wasn’t craning her neck. The friction of her body against mine sent another jolt of lust from the head of my cock to my aching balls.

“Fuck.” I groaned.

The vibrations from Scarlett’s laughter didn’t help my situation. “You’re wound tight today,” she murmured. “Let’s see if we can take care of that, shall we?”

She kissed me again, winding her arms around my neck and rocking against me with delicious, deliberate movements that made my brain short-circuit.

I’d always preferred showers to baths, but not anymore.

Screw showers. Baths were the best.

I cupped the back of her head, holding her steady as she ground harder against me. Another tortured groan traveled up my throat.

We didn’t have condoms with us, and I didn’t want to break our embrace to grab them from her bedroom. But she was soslick and soft, and she tasted so good, that if I didn’t get inside her soon I?—

A sharp gasp bled into our kiss—not of pleasure but ofpain.

I instantly pulled back, my lust puddling into panic when Scarlett winced, her brow crumpling. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, nothing like that,” she reassured me. She shifted her weight and took a deep breath. “It’s this position. I got a sudden twinge in my leg. That’s all.”

“Fuck.” I ran a hand over my face. Ofcourseher tiny tub wasn’t a good place for foreplay. I was usually hyperconscious of how and where we had sex in case it aggravated her chronic pain, but I’d gotten too lost in the moment. “I didn’t think…”

“It’s not your fault.” Scarlett gave me a quick smile. “Usually it’s not so bad, but it’s been a long week. I’m more sensitive than usual.”

“I should’ve thought of it,” I insisted, mentally kicking myself for the oversight. “We don’t have to stay here. We can move somewhere more comfortable if you need to rest.”

I hated that I’d played a part in her discomfort. I’d pay any amount of money to take away her pain—not just her physical ones, but the mental and emotional ones too.

But money couldn’t buy peace. I, of all people, knew that.

“Stop. This isn’t on you.” Scarlett’s fingers skimmed over my mouth, soothing my grimace. “Iwantto have sex. I like sex. I also like this tub, and I like what we were doing in here. I just needed a little…adjustment before we continue. If I truly need to stop, I’d tell you.”

I must’ve looked unconvinced because her mouth flattened into a stubborn line. “Don’t,” she said. “Promise you won’t treat me like I’m a porcelain doll you’re afraid you’ll break. That’s not what I want.”




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