Chapter 2

I held his jaw for a second longer than I should have, feeling the rapid, erratic flutter of his pulse right beneath my thumb.

Jules didn’t pull away, and his lips parted slightly as he stared up at me, his chest rising and falling in time with my own.

For a split second, I thought about closing the distance and wiping that bratty smirk off his face with my mouth, but before I could do something that would ruin my career, the heavy metal door of the equipment room rattled.

Someone was jiggling the handle, cursing loudly about a stuck lock.

I dropped my hand like his skin had burned me, stepping back and clearing my throat.

"Get out of here," I muttered, keeping my voice low so the guys outside wouldn't hear. Jules just smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his lips that made my stomach twist, before he slipped past me and out the small side window we used for ventilation.

I waited a full minute before I opened the main door, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Two days later, that stupid, lingering tension had followed me right into the middle of a massive off-campus frat party.

The bass from the speakers was so loud it vibrated in my teeth, and the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and cheap perfume.

I hated these things, but as captain, Coach had made it clear that "team bonding" wasn't optional, so I was stuck standing in the corner of the living room, nursing a red plastic cup and watching the door.

And then Jules walked in, and my brain completely short-circuited.

He wasn’t wearing his usual oversized hoodies or team gear.

Instead, he was dressed in a pair of black, skin-tight jeans that hugged every line of his legs, and a sheer, dark mesh top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

You could see the lean, toned lines of his stomach and the faint dusting of hair on his chest through the fabric.

He looked dangerous, he looked edible, and he knew exactly what he was doing. I gripped my plastic cup so hard the rim dug into my palm, telling myself to look away, but my eyes just kept tracking him as he moved through the crowd.

He was laughing, holding a solo cup of his own, looking entirely in his element. But then some random lacrosse bro—some guy named Tyler who had more money than sense and a desperate need for attention—slid up right behind him.

Tyler wrapped his arms around Jules’s waist, pulling his back flush against his chest, and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Jules didn’t push him away. He just threw his head back, laughed, and let Tyler’s hands slide a little lower on his hips.

Something inside me just snapped. It was a violent, primal crack in my chest, and suddenly, the noise of the party faded into a dull roar.

My vision tunneled, focusing entirely on Tyler’s hands on Jules’s waist. My jaw ticked so hard my teeth ached, and without even realizing what I was doing, my fingers crushed the plastic cup in my hand.

Sticky, warm beer spilled over my knuckles and dripped onto the floor, but I didn’t give a single fuck.

I crossed the living room in long, furious strides, and the crowd literally parted for me because I knew I looked like I was ready to commit murder.

I didn't say a word when I reached them; I just reached out, grabbed Jules by the wrist, and yanked him away from Tyler so hard he stumbled.

"Hey, what the hell, man?" Tyler slurred, stepping forward, but I just shot him a look so dark and murderous that he actually took a step back.

"Excuse us," I growled, not letting go of Jules’s wrist.

I dragged him through the kitchen, out the back door, and into the cool, dark night air. I didn't stop until we were in the narrow, dimly lit hallway between the garage and the wooden fence, away from the prying eyes of the party.

I shoved the heavy wooden door of the downstairs guest bathroom open, pulled Jules inside with me, and slammed the door shut, locking it behind us.

The music from the party was instantly muffled, leaving only the sound of our ragged breathing in the small, tiled space.

Jules rubbed his wrist, glaring up at me, but there was no fear in his eyes, just that same fiery defiance.

"What the fuck is your problem, Jaxson?" he demanded, stepping into my personal space instead of backing away. "You're hurting me, and you just embarrassed me in front of the whole team."

"You were letting him grind on you," I bit out, my voice rough, my chest heaving as I stared down at him. "You were letting him put his hands all over you."

Jules tilted his head, his lips curving into that same arrogant, teasing smile from the equipment room.

He took another half-step forward, until his chest was brushing against mine, looking up at me through his eyelashes. "He was just dancing, Captain," he whispered, his voice dripping with fake innocence. "Unless... are you actually jealous?"