He touches his face, tracing his scar while his jaw pops. I meant his superior attitude, not his face, but I see the moment when he freezes and takes it the wrong way. I don’t like ugly.” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
I know I'm just the scholarship girl at Camden, but why does he have to constantly remind me? “Don't worry about me touching anything. His underwear are white and tight, cupping his hard ass, the outline of his crotch- “Like what you see, charity case? You can look, but you can’t touch.” Anger soars, replacing my embarrassment. His legs are heavily muscled and taut, unlike the leaner build of Chance. Knox has unlaced his grass-stained pants and is shucking them off. Glancing up, I intend to ask him to tell Chance I came by to congratulate him on his two touchdowns, but my voice is frozen. I hear male laughter from one of the rooms that branch off from the locker room, maybe the showers, and I deflate, guessing that’s where Chance is. He isn’t brawny or beefy-looking like one might expect from a guy blessed with his athletic prowess, but sculpted and molded and- Dropping my gaze, I stare at the floor. He has a visible six-pack, and my gaze lingers briefly on a small tattoo on his hip, but I can’t tell what it is. His shoulders are broad and wide, his chest lightly dusted with sparse golden hair, tan from the sun, rippling with powerful muscles, leading down to a tapered and trim waist. Get out-before I scare you.” He’s scaring me already. “I don’t keep tabs on my best friend for you. “Where’s Chance?” He whips off his sweat-covered jersey along with the pads underneath. It’s not cool enough at night for our sweater uniform so tonight my top is the red and white V-cut vest with CP embroidered on my chest.
Cold eyes flick over my cheer skirt then move up and land on the hollow of my throat.
Excerpt “What do you want?” Knox says with as sneer as I ease in the football locker room.
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