My heart was still pounding from the roar of the stadium crowd when we finally stumbled through the apartment door that night. Jax’s rugby team had absolutely demolished their rivals in the championship final, and the victory seemed to vibrate off him like electricity. He was sweaty, buzzing with adrenaline, his broad shoulders straining against his damp team jersey. His hand rested heavy and possessive on the small of my back, fingers digging in just enough to send little sparks up my spine. I loved this version of him—raw, triumphant, almost feral. It made my stomach flutter in that familiar, needy way.Marcus and Rico, two of his biggest and most intimidating teammates, followed us inside like it was the most natural thing in the world. Marcus was a mountain of a man, dark-skinned, muscular, with a deep voice that always seemed to rumble from his chest. Rico had that sharp, tattooed edge, lean but powerful, with a hungry smirk that never quite reached his eyes. Kyle, Jax’s stepbr
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