At the end of the day, the walk to the soccer field for the practice match is both a relief and its own drawn out torture.
I tug on the hem of the skirt. It’s shorter than the school uniform and I am so not wearing the right underwear. I clamp my palms against my thighs, trapping the skirt when a breeze threatens to expose me.
There are other people hanging out on the sidelines as the soccer team stretches for warm up. I pause a few feet away. Sometimes a few girls watch practice, I used to see them during track, but not this many. They all turn to me, eyeing me up and down.
Their judgement is obvious as they whisper to each other.
The urge to sprint to the tree line and pick up the trail that winds through the pines grips me. I’m seconds from springing into action when strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, enveloping me in a familiar masculine scent. Devlin.
“There you are,” Devlin murmurs into my hair. I stiffen as he tickles the bare strip of skin where the uniform doesn’t cover my stomach. “Hmm, having you dressed this way certainly improves my motivation. Cheer me on so we win our practice match. Nice and loud—and remember it’s spelled d-e-v-i-l.”
I can hear the smile in his voice.
“You’re twisted,” I breathe.
His chuckle is dark and smoky, traveling down my neck and drawing a shudder from me. That sound should be illegal. I struggle not to clap a hand over my tingling neck.
“You have no idea, little thief.”
The girls along the sideline glare in our direction. I’m treading all over their territory simply by being here. Devlin’s teammates on the field smirk.
“You all owe me fifty bucks,” Bishop calls from the center, his arms stretched overhead as he bends.
A round of groans sound from the other players. Great, now they’re betting on something they know nothing about. They probably think Devlin and I are some weird thing.
I have a few steamy books in my paperback collection. I’m familiar with the idea of hate turning into love. Bullshit. Not in our case.
“Why are you making me do this?” I hiss. “What messed up satisfaction is this giving you? And—the other thing you want?”
Devlin’s arms tighten around my waist. He nudges me forward and I walk awkwardly with him wrapped around me.
“Because.” His voice is hard next to my ear. “I want to make you squirm for me.”
My stomach twists into a tight knot. A hot pulse of heat throbs betw
een my legs. Does he need to talk right next to my ear and breathe all over my neck like that?
We reach the sideline and he releases me, only to circle around. He draws me close, his hands settling on my hips.
I peer up into his eyes, trying to read the mystery clouding the blackness. I don’t believe the interest in his expression is for me. It’s for show. For whatever reason, he wants them all to believe he wants me.
“Did you bring pom-poms to cheer with?”
The question startles me out of trying to figure him out.
I snort. “Yeah, I can totally hide pom-poms in this crap.”
Flashing a quick smirk, Devlin toys with the edge of the skirt. I open my mouth, only to clamp it shut when he drags his fingers up my thigh. He moves higher, skimming beneath the vest, stroking my stomach. His touch heats my skin and makes me fight off a tremble.
I hate that he can make my insides coil. What is wrong with me?
Devlin hums thoughtfully. “I see what you mean. No practical storage space.”
My jaw drops. Devlin’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh. He’s…having fun. While he torments me with an audience.
“Stop enjoying this,” I snap in an undertone, glancing at the group of girls nearby.
If they didn’t hate me before, they definitely do now. I have their favorite hottie all over me. I don’t want to watch my back for mean girl attacks on top of Devlin’s games. He’s making me more visible, painting a bigger bullseye on my back in blood.