Page 18 of The Break Down

Just standing there, all bronzed skin and tattoos, sweat glistening like someone spritzed him with a hydration bottle for dramatic effect.

His shorts ride low on his hips, revealing just enough of that V to make me forget how words work.

Honestly, if someone were casting a brooding antihero in a sports romance movie, Koa Jackson would be the poster boy.

My brain says run.

My body?

Yeah, she’s already planning an ill-advised detour.

Because despite the growls and the glares and his habit of acting like I’m the human equivalent of static cling, it doesn’t matter.

He still makes my knees weak.

And unfortunately for me?

He knows it.

My mouth goes dry.

“Jesus. Give a girl a warning next time, would you?” I try for sass, but it comes out breathy. “I thought I was about to get got.”

He grins slowly, like a lion watching something very edible.

“You’re not that lucky, Red.”

I fold my arms, mostly to hide the fact that my nipples just did a little high-five beneath my tank top.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I shoot back.

He pushes off the beam, stepping closer.

The air between us tightens like a rubber band.

I swear I feel it in my nipples.

I know, I know.

It sounds crass, but really.

They’re so hard they could cut glass.

And he knows it too. In fact, that molten gaze of his flicks to my breasts, to where my sensitive pebbles are pressed tight against the thin cotton of my tank top.

Koa growls a deep rolling sound just before he lifts that laser stare to my face.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says quietly.

I raise a brow. “You’ve been glaring at me since I got off the damn plane.”

“Yeah.” He steps even closer. “But that’s the thing, Red. I don’t think I can do that anymore.”

My stomach flips.

“Look, I’m not some super fan here to collect sweaty jerseys, Koa,” I say, chin lifted. “I’m not gonna fall over because you’ve got abs and a bad attitude.”

He laughs.

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