Page 87 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

That was one of the downsides of fame that no one talked about—the more success you gained, the fewer friends you had.

It hadn’t been a problem before. I’d never met a woman who made me question what I wanted the way Scarlett did, but now…

I swiped a hand over my face as indecision took root inside me.

Does this feel platonic to you?

We’ll pretend the kiss never happened.

Are you enjoying your date with him?

You called her darling.

I’m not sure she will. And I’m not sure I want to.

I made it halfway down the street before I came to an abrupt halt. Thankfully, there were no cars behind me.

What the fuck am I doing?

I didn’t know whether it was the empty roads or the quiet night, but clarity unfolded with sudden, blazing sharpness.

I wanted Scarlett. She wanted me. Yes, our relationship would have obstacles, and yes, overcoming them seemed impossible, but fuck it, how would we know unless we tried? Impossible things happened every day.

Look at Eldorra’s royal couple. They overcame a centuries-oldlawto be together.

Even my rise to stardom would’ve been deemed unfathomable—the solidly working-class boy from a working-class town, whose teachers were so certain he’d amount to nothing, growing up to become the highest paid player in the Premier League.

Every problem had a solution. I was determined to find ours.

But in the meantime…

I switched gears and pulled a sharp U-turn. My heart thundered in my throat as I parked in front of Scarlett’s flat, cut the engine, and ran upstairs. The main door was unlocked, which couldn’t be safe, but I chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Please don’t be asleep yet.

If she wasn’t up and I waited to say what I had to say, I might lose my nerve and we would end up right back in limbo. That couldn’t happen.

I knocked on her door.

Once. Twice.

My pulse was a relentless anvil against my veins, and the hammering worsened when Scarlett answered the door.

She was still wearing her dress from dinner, but she was barefoot and makeup free.

Her eyes widened. “Asher? What are you?—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her question before I stepped forward, grabbed the back of her neck, and crushed her mouth to mine.

Her gasp of surprise traveled into my lungs, and there was a taut, suspended moment when I thought she might push me away.

But then her gasp turned into a moan, and her lips parted for mine, and I knew nothing would be the same ever again.

CHAPTER 22

SCARLETT

The second Asher’s lips touched mine, I was lost.