Page 92 of Shots & Echoes

But she didn’t.

She just stood there, frozen.

Waiting.

Wanting.

The air between us felt electric, charged with everything we refused to say. It was dangerous—undeniable. The weight of it pressed down on my chest, heavy and consuming. My heart pounded, fists clenched at my sides as I fought the urge to reach for her again.

Because Iknew.

I’d fucking won.

Even if it destroyed both of us.

Her breath hitched, her lips parting like she wanted to speak, but nothing came. I could see the war waging behind those blue eyes, the part of her that wanted to deny this fighting against the part of her that had already surrendered.

I didn’t touch her again—I didn’t have to. She already felt me everywhere.

Then, as if snapping herself out of whatever had gripped her, she took a step back.

The spell shattered.

I watched her, pulse hammering, as she turned and walked out without looking back.

I should’ve stopped her. Should’ve grabbed her wrist andmadeher stay. But instead, I let her go, watching as she disappeared through the door, carrying every ounce of this moment with her like a brand against her skin.

And as silence crashed back down around me, something dark curled in my chest.

I’d pushed her away.

But not far enough.

Because no matter how much distance she tried to put between us, we both knew?—

She wasn’t running from me.

She was runningtowardwhat we already were.

I stared at the door, jaw tight, pulse hammering. My hands curled into fists at my sides, knuckles white as I fought against the urge to chase after her. Every muscle in my body screamed with the leftover adrenaline from practice, fromher.

I had touched her—barely—but it wasn’t enough.Fuck, it wasn’t even close. The heat of her skin still burned against my fingertips, a ghost of something I hadn’t claimed yet.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face.

That moment—seconds stretched into eternity—had changed everything. The tension that had simmered for weeks had finally cracked open, raw and electric. It wasn’t just hunger anymore; it wasneed, a sharp, aching thing sinking its teeth into my ribs and refusing to let go.

And now? I was done pretending.

I turned from the door and paced the office like a caged animal, each step echoing off the walls. The taste of restraintsat bitter on my tongue. I could still see the way her breath had hitched, the way she had looked up at me—unsure, wanting, fighting it even as she melted into my grip.

There was no jersey, no fucking game worth this kind of madness. The line had blurred beyond recognition, and I wasn’t sure Iwantedto find it again.

I ran a hand through my hair, gripping at the strands like that might somehow pull me out of this spiral.

But it was pointless.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her—pressed against the boards, her pulse hammering against my palm, the fire in her eyes daring me to push her further.

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