Page 54 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)
“Fuck that. We’re not starting anything until you tell me why you’re acting so strange.” I crossed my arms. “Is this about Friday night?”
Scarlett’s back turned rigid.
I’d kept my wording vague, but we both knew I wasn’t talking about the frying pan incident.
Three days later, the memory of our kitchen encounter was burned into my mind.
Scarlett straddling me.
The heat in her eyes.
The sight of those perfect fucking nipples poking throughmyshirt. Seeing her wear my clothes was hands down one of the hottest things I’d ever experienced. It made almost getting bashed in the face worth it.
I’d needed an ice-cold shower and a date with my right hand after that. Even now, just thinking about it made me uncomfortably warm.
Scarlett looked as tense as I felt. “No,” she said. “This isnotabout Friday night. However, since we’re on the subject, you could’ve mentioned your girlfriend before I—while we were in the theatre.”
My frown deepened. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Fine. Your hookup, fling, whatever you want to call it.”
What the hell was she talking about?
“I don’t…”Earl’s judgment. Scarlett waiting in the studio. The only woman she could’ve possibly seen me with since Friday.The puzzle pieces slotted together with perfect clarity. “You’re talking about Polina.”
“If Polina is the blond with legs longer than a giraffe, then yes.” Scarlett finally whirled around and faced me. “You were having quite a snog fest in the living room. I didn’t want to interrupt you, so I came downstairs and waited for you to finish.”
“It wasn’t a snog fest session,” I growled. “Shekissedme.”
“Sure.”
Irrational anger simmered in my veins. “I guess you didn’t stay long enough to see me push her off,” I said. “Polina and I went on a few dates last year. That’s it. She came by because she wanted me to help her make someone else jealous, and she thought seducing me first would make it easier.” I nodded at her bag. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll give you her number and you can confirm with her.”
Scarlett faltered. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” I kept my eyes trained on hers as I carefully picked my next words. “Even if weweremaking out, I don’t understand why you’d be mad.”
“I’m not mad. I’m annoyed about your tardiness.”
“That wasn’t annoyance I heard.”
“Then you’re hearing things that don’t exist.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I took in her stiff posture and the rosy flush darkening her cheeks. A slow smile spread across my face. “Wait. Scarlett, darling…are you jealous?”
“You wish.”
I’d been half joking, but her answer came too quickly, too aggressively to ring true.
My smile vanished beneath an unsteady thump of my heart. “Maybe I do.”
The confession drifted between us like confetti in the wind, blowing this way and that, uncertain of where to land.
It was the closest either of us had come to acknowledging our attraction—and therewasattraction. A quiet, smoldering, mutual one. Of that, I was sure.
If she’d stayed in the kitchen a minute longer the other night, I would’ve kissed her, and she would’ve let me.
Scarlett’s throat moved with a small swallow. “You shouldn’t.”