Asher’s laughter drifted across the pitch.
Oh, screw it. My competitive drive kicked into high gear, and I sprinted after him.
My muscles protested immediately. I’d avoided high-impact activities like running since my accident, but I gritted my teeth and focused on the satisfaction of scoring on Asher.
I caught up to him surprisingly fast. I suspected he’d held back for my sake. Even so, it was frustratingly difficult to steal the ball from him. I succeeded twice, but he stole it back almost as quickly as he lost it.
“You’re better than you let on.” He wasn’t even breathing hard, the bastard. “Come on. Put that fancy footwork of yours to the test.”
I issued a little growl that earned me another laugh. Then we were off again, and my mind blacked out everything except for the need to score.
I may have been better than I let on, but there was a reason Asher was the top-paid footballer in the world. Playing against him, even in an unserious two-person match, was like pitting David against Goliath (if David lost). Nothing could’ve prepared me for it.
I’d watched him play before, of course. There wasn’t a single person in the UK who didn’t remember his legendary halfway line goal against Liverpool or his spectacular header in the quarterfinals of the last World Cup.
Asher was incredible onscreen, but up close, in person? He was magic.
He matched me turn for turn, feint for feint. He intuited what I’d do before I did it, and he was barely trying.
Sweat poured down my face and neck, but sheer stubbornness held me together.
One goal.
I just needed one goal.
A wheezing cough rattled my lungs. I should’ve warmed up or drank more water before I came out here.
Asher slowed, concern sliding over his face. I took the opportunity and attempted a steal. To my shock, it worked.
However, my triumph was short-lived. Asher reacted so fast, he almost regained possession immediately, but I wasn’t letting go that easily this time.
Back and forth, left and right. Somewhere during our tussle, our legs tangled.
I hit the grass with jarring force, and I didn’t have time to move before Asher fell too. He braced himself against the ground so he didn’t totally crush me, but he was still there-right on top of me.
We froze in simultaneous shock. If someone were to come across us at that moment, I imagined we’d pass for stone statues in Medusa’s garden, entangled and unmoving.
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 ground should’ve been 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.
I really should’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. Do something.
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 the fuck?”
Asher’s outburst mirrored my feelings exactly. The cameraman had somehow climbed over the 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 on my property. Took photos of us during my personal 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 you anywhere near 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.
I’d never seen him so furious. I didn’t know it was possible for him to be furious. He was always so good-natured, but right now, with his body coiled and his face creased in a scowl, he was the picture of pure, unadulterated anger.
However, with the pap gone and air quiet once more, the anger slowly drained, leaving visible frustration behind.
“I need to upgrade my security.” Asher rubbed a hand over his face. He sounded tired, and a needle of sympathy pierced my gut. “I didn’t want to turn this place into a bloody surveillance state, but I can’t have people sneaking in like that. If we hadn’t caught him in time…”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.