The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 118: Chapter 118 - Let’s Make Us Official

Then she yanked him down by the jersey and kissed him.

Zac went stiff.

For half a second, his mouth stayed still under hers, and Roxie felt the mistake hit her body before her brain could name it.

Then he kissed her back.

Hard.

His hand came up to her waist, and the force of his mouth made her wake up all at once. Heat shot through her chest. Her fingers tightened in his jersey before she remembered she was the one who had pulled him down.

What was she even doing?

She let go of his jersey and pulled back.

She needed to get away.

Zac’s hand caught her waist before she made it far.

His grip was firm through her cheer jacket, holding her close. His mouth stayed near hers. His breathing hit her lips, rough and uneven.

Roxie’s chest rose hard against his.

”Let go,” she said.

Zac’s jaw tightened.

He let her go.

The space opened between them, cold and immediate, and Roxie hated that he listened. She hated that he stopped. She hated that careful still felt like leaving even when she was the one who asked for it.

Zac looked at her with his scratched cheek, red mouth, and wrinkled jersey.

”You came to me,” he said.

”God. I’m sorry for kissing you. Don’t fucking worry. That’s the last time.”

His jaw tightened.

”Really?” His voice was low. ”You really think we can stay away from each other?”

Roxie laughed, sharp and breathless. ”You think you’re a god or something? Your ego is so big Atlas couldn’t even lift it.”

Zac laughed once, like he couldn’t believe her.

Roxie shoved his chest. ”What?”

He didn’t answer.

That made her shove him again.

”What?” she snapped.

His smile faded, but his eyes stayed on her mouth.

Roxie saw it.

Her pulse jumped. ”You look at me like that, then act like I’m crazy for reacting. Make up your mind, Prescott.”

His jaw flexed. ”I never said I didn’t want you.”

”You are a coward.” She grabbed his jersey again and pulled him in before she could think.

This time Zac kissed her back like the last piece of restraint in him snapped.

His mouth hit hers hard, and he pushed her back until her shoulders struck the tree. Roxie gasped into his mouth. Zac caught the sound with another kiss, rougher, deeper, his hand locking around her waist.

Her fingers twisted in his jersey.

He was warm. Solid. Angry.

Too close.

Still, she pulled him closer.

Zac felt it. His grip tightened, and he pressed his body fully against hers. Roxie froze for half a second when she felt how badly he wanted her through his pants.

The shock went straight through her.

Zac’s breathing turned rough against her mouth.

”You feel that?” he said, voice low. ”That’s what happens when you pull me in, then act like I’m the only one losing it.”

Her face burned.

”I hate you.”

”Say it again.”

”I hate you.”

Zac kissed her before the last word was fully out.

Roxie’s hands slipped under his jersey this time. Skin. Heat. Hard muscle under her palms. Her nails dragged across his sides, and Zac groaned into her mouth, deep enough that her knees almost gave.

His hand slid under the edge of her cheer jacket and found her bare waist.

Roxie jerked at the contact.

Zac stopped moving for one sharp second.

His forehead pressed close to hers. His mouth was still wet from hers. His fingers stayed on her skin, firm, waiting.

”Tell me to stop,” he said.

Roxie stared at him, breathing hard.

She should have said it.

She should have shoved him away.

Instead, her fingers dug into his back, and she pulled him down again.

Zac’s control broke.

He kissed her harder, pinning her against the tree with his body. His hand stayed under her jacket, hot against her waist, while his other hand caught her wrist and pressed it beside her head. Roxie should have hated it. She did hate it.

She also arched into him when his hips pressed once against hers.

The small sound that came out of her made Zac curse under his breath.

For a few seconds, there were no words. Just his mouth, her hands under his jersey, his body hard against hers, and the angry way they kept dragging each other closer like stopping first meant losing.

The gym was still loud around them.

A whistle blew somewhere near the court.

Roxie froze.

Zac felt it and pulled back first.

His forehead hovered close to hers. His breathing was rough. The scratch on his cheek looked redder now.

”We can’t do this here,” he said.

Roxie’s mouth burned.

Her fingers were still twisted in his jersey.

”Then leave.”

His eyes stayed on hers. ”With you?”

The question hit her so hard she forgot how to breathe.

With you?

Zac’s voice had a tremor in it. Low. Rough. Almost hidden under his breathing. But Roxie heard it.

It sounded like a promise.

Her fingers were still curled in his jersey. Her mouth burned from his. Her cheeks felt too hot, and the heat kept spreading down her neck, under her jacket, across every place his hands had touched. Her body still felt pressed against the tree even though he had already stepped back. Like his weight had left a mark.

She hated it.

She hated the way her chest kept rising too fast. She hated the shaky feeling in her knees.

Her stomach pulled tight.

She looked at his mouth.

Huge mistake.

Zac saw it.

His eyes darkened, and his hand flexed at his side like he was fighting the urge to reach for her again.

”Roxie,” he said.

Her name came out rough enough to make her skin prickle.

That pissed her off.

She wanted him to grab her again.

She wanted him to stop asking.

She wanted him to decide so she could hate him for deciding.

Roxie shoved him hard in the chest.

Zac moved back one step.

”No,” she snapped.

His jaw tightened. ”No?”

”Shove your cookies.”

The words came out rough and breathless, which made her angrier.

Zac looked down at the cracked container near their shoes, then back at her.

”Roxie—”

”Go away.”

His face closed a little.

She needed that. She needed him cold. She needed him angry. She needed anything except the way his voice had shaken when he asked if she would leave with him.

”Leave me alone,” she said.

Zac stared at her.

For one second, she thought he would come closer anyway. Her body braced for it, stupid and traitorous, pulse jumping like it was waiting for his hands.

He didn’t.

He bent down, picked up the cookie container, and held it against his side.

The broken pieces shifted inside.

”Fine,” he said. That one word cut straight through the heat still sitting under her skin.

Roxie’s throat tightened.

But he didn’t move.

”Fine,” she repeated. ”Fine what? When people say that, they walk away, Zac. They don’t stand there like—”

”Come home with me for Thanksgiving.”

Roxie stopped.

Her mouth stayed open, but nothing came out.

What?

What the hell was he saying?

Zac looked at her with his scratched cheek, red mouth, and wrinkled jersey.

”Let’s make us official.”