Page 36 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)
My heart rate slowed to a crawl. Despite his braced position, his body pressed against mine enough for me to feel every ridge and plane.
All that muscle pinning me to the groundshould’vebeen uncomfortable. Instead, it was oddly comforting, like a shield against the outside world.
An extremely well-toned, sculpted shield.
I tried and failed to swallow past the dryness in my throat.Ireallyshould’ve drank more water earlier.
My tongue darted out, wetting my lips unconsciously. Asher’s eyes dipped to my mouth, and the remaining oxygen in the air snuffed out with a near audible puff.
Move. Breathe. Push him off. Dosomething.
My brain fired commands at me, and I didn’t heed a single one. I couldn’t. I was stuck, trapped by the heat of his body and the soft rise and fall of his chest against mine.
I was tingling all over. Either my muscles were shutting down from overexertion or it was an involuntary reaction to Asher’s proximity. Or both. Either way, the stutter in my chest when his gaze drifted up and met mine again couldn’t be healthy.
Did he always have those golden flecks in his eyes?They were absurdly beautiful, like splashes of sunlight on a verdant hill.
A hint of aftershave and sweat teased my nostrils. Instead of smelling gross, it smelled earthy and masculine and utterly addicting.
Leave it to Asher Donovan to make sweating sexy.
His chin lowered. If I tilted mine up, we would?—
The soft but distinct whirr of a shutter snapping smashed into the moment with the grace of a wrecking ball.
Our heads jerked toward the sound, and my jaw dropped when I saw a man peeking out at us from over the greenery.
“What thefuck?”
Asher’s outburst mirrored my feelings exactly. The cameraman had somehowclimbed overthe twelve-foot-hedge bordering the grounds and was capturing our interaction with a super zoom lens.
Now that he’d been spotted, he didn’t waste time. He lowered his camera, tucked tail, and ran right as Asher pushed off me and bolted after him.
After a beat, I followed suit.
Our impromptu football match earlier (if one could call it that) had sucked away most of my energy. My entire body ached, especially my legs, which burned with each step. A fresh surge of adrenaline was the only thing propping me up.
Luckily, there was a shortcut through the hedges to the driveway, so I didn’t have to traverse the entire mansion.
By the time I turned the corner, Asher had already caught and restrained the pap by pinning his arms behind his back. A fancy Nikon lay in several pieces next to them.
“You broke my camera!” the man howled. His bulbous nose reddened.“That’s an eight-thousand-pound lens!”
“Your lens?” Asher twisted his arms harder, and the man let out a pained yelp. “You trespassed onmyproperty. Took photos of us duringmypersonal time.” His eyes glittered like emerald knives. “I put up with your bullshit when I’m in public, but make no mistake. If I ever catch youanywherenear either of us again, I’ll break more than your camera. Understand?”
The man’s mouth flattened into a mulish line.
I didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t one of the regulars who’d hung around RAB when we trained there, and the ease with which Asher caught him suggested he was new to the job. If so, he’d made a terrible new enemy.
“I said, do you understand?” Asher twisted his arms again, and the man’s stubbornness dissolved into a pathetic cry.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now get the fuck off my property before I change my mind.”
“I can’t believe you caught him,” I said once the pap left. He must’ve had at least a minute head start on Asher. “And I can’t believe you broke his camera.”
“He got off easy with the broken camera.” The cords in Asher’s neck bunched with tension.