ANMELDENChapter 4I showered in water that was too cold and still finished with my forehead against the tile, hand working fast and angry, coming with a bitten-off sound while I pictured his thigh between mine and the exact weight of him pinning me to the gym wall. When I stepped out, the room was dimmer. Rafa had turned off the main light. Only the desk lamp was on. He was already in bed, back to the room, sheet pulled up to his waist.I dried off, pulled on clean shorts, and climbed into my own bed. The mattress was narrow. The gap between the two beds felt both too wide and not wide enough.Silence stretched.I could hear him breathing steadily. Like he wasn’t lying there as hard and fucked-up as I was.“You hit me late on purpose,” I said into the dark.His voice came back low. “You sold the contact.”“Bullshit. You wanted me on the ground.”He exhaled quietly. “Maybe I did.”The honesty of it landed like a hand around my throat. My cock twitched against my stomach.I turned onto my side,
Chapter 3The sun was already a bastard by the time we hit the pitch.I could feel it burning across the back of my neck as I jogged into position, the grass still damp under my boots from the early sprinklers. The rest of the squad was spread out, cones everywhere, coaches barking out instructions as usual. Normal national-team morning. Except every time I turned my head, Rafa was there.He lined up across from me for the first possession drill like he’d been waiting for it. Black training top already sticking to his chest. Shorts sitting low on his hips. That same calm, flat expression that made me want to put my fist through his teeth and then drop to my knees and beg for something more salivating.I hated how good he looked.I hated that I could still feel the exact shape of his cock from last night, thick and hard against my hip, the way he’d ground against me like he already owned the right to do it.“Pair up,” the coach yelled. “High press. No cheap fouls. I want intensity, no
Chapter 2 Rafa’s eyes dropped to my mouth. The hand on the wall flexed. For a long, stretched second I thought he was going to close the last inches and kiss me. The air between us felt charged enough to spark. My hands had curled into fists at my sides; I forced them open and let one rest against his hip, fingers spreading over the damp fabric of his shorts. Muscle jumped under my palm. I wanted to dig in harder. Wanted to drop to my knees right there and mouth at the outline of his cock until he cursed and shoved my head down.He exhaled hard through his nose. Then he moved. But he didn't kiss me. It was something rougher. He crowded me fully against the wall, thigh sliding between my legs, and the hard length of his cock pressed unmistakably against my hip. My breath left me in a punched-out sound. His free hand gripped the side of my neck, thumb under my jaw, tilting my head back just enough to expose my throat. Our mouths were a fraction apart. I could taste the mint on his brea
Chapter 1The bus doors hissed open and the heat slapped me right across the face.Late August air, thick and wet, rolled over the training complex smelling like cut grass, rubber, and river mud. I stepped down last, mh bag over one shoulder, sunglasses shoved up into my hair even though the sun was already dying. Cameras clicked somewhere past the fence. A couple of fans yelled my name. I lifted a hand without looking, the automatic smile already glued on my face.Inside the gates it was quieter. Perfect pitch. Glass buildings. Recovery pools. The long dorm block that was going to trap twenty-three of us together for two weeks and I already knew who was going to be my real problem.Rafael YetiI saw him the second I cleared the courtyard.He stood by the main building talking to one of the assistants, arms folded, looking like he was carved out of something harder than the rest of us. Black training shirt stretched across those stupidly wide shoulders. Dark hair cropped short. That p
Chapter 10My legs felt unsteady when I stood. I shoved myself back into my jeans with shaking hands, the denim scraping over sensitive skin, and followed him.He didn’t take me to the bathroom Marcus was using. He took me to the smaller one at the far end of the upstairs hallway, the one no one really used. The second the door closed behind us he locked it, turned, and had me backed against the sink before I could say a word.His mouth crashed into mine—hot, rough, nothing like the controlled man at the breakfast table. I made a broken sound against his lips. His hands were already shoving my jeans back down. My cock sprang free again, still hard, still wet from his earlier attention, and he wrapped his fist around it like he was reclaiming it.“You did so well,” he murmured against my mouth. “Sitting there with your cock in my hand while my son talked about pastries. Didn’t come, didn’t break, good boy.”The praise hit me harder than it should have. I whimpered. His other hand slid
Chapter 9Lannister’s hand never left me.Marcus had already gone back to scrolling, completely satisfied with the macarons story, and the second his eyes dropped to his phone Lannister’s fist started moving again. Slow. Deliberate. Like the interruption had only been a pause, like the near-disaster of my moan had never even happened. His grip was warm and sure, fingers slick with what I’d already leaked, and he stroked me from base to tip with the kind of patience that felt almost cruel.I stared at the flaky remains of pastry on my plate and tried to remember how to exist like a normal person. My cock was still out under the table, flushed and wet in his grip, and every stroke sent another pulse of heat straight up my spine. I could feel the precum smearing across his fingers, could feel the way the head of my cock dragged through the circle of his fist on every upstroke. I could feel Marcus’s knee less than two feet away from mine. The proximity made everything sharper. One wrong s
Logan’s hand remained frozen around Damon’s cock, the weight and burning heat of it searing into his palm like a brand. It was thicker than he expected, velvet-smooth skin stretched over rigid hardness, a vein pulsing faintly against his fingers. He gave one tentative, experimental stroke from base
Logan Wale slammed the door of his penthouse behind him, the sound echoing through the empty marble foyer. It was barely nine-thirty at night, but the day had been torture. Every time Damon had walked past his office, every lingering glance, every teasing smile had chipped away at his sanity. He re
The next morning, Logan arrived at the office before sunrise, determined to regain control. He’d barely slept, his mind replaying that shameful scene in his chair on loop. The way he’d come like a teenager just from imagining Damonn Vale’s mouth was Pathetic and weak. He would not let it happen aga
Logan Wale paced around his office like a Man on heat. He stopped at some point to stare through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glittering city below.He was pissed, and rightfully so. He'd single handedly built his company from the ground up and at thirty six, he'd been named one of the top C







