Page 35 of Full Tilt
A hot prickle climbs the back of my neck. I shift slightly, trying to adjust without drawing attention to the very real, very inconvenient situation in my jeans.
Camden leans in slightly, glancing at me, brow furrowed. “You all right?” His voice is lower now, quieter than before, just for me. His thigh presses more firmly against mine as he turns.
I practically squeak my “Yeah.”
He raises a brow, unimpressed. “You sure?”
I take a long pull from my beer and avoid direct eye contact like a guilty schoolboy. “Just hot. It’s warm in here.”
A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Could’ve sworn you were cold earlier.”
“I run complicated,” I mutter into my bottle.
He chuckles—chuckles—and I’m dead. That sound is going to live in my head for days. I glance sideways and catch him watching me with something that might be amusement… or something else entirely.
But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lets the moment sit there, heavy with things neither of us are quite saying. And even though I’m burning up and biting the inside of my cheek to stay focused on anything other than the feel of his thigh against mine, the low sound of his voice, or the fact that he still hasn’t moved away…
I think I might be the happiest, horniest, most tortured man in Devon right now.
Time slips by without me noticing. Somewhere between half-hearted jokes and another round of drinks, the energy in the room softens. The match buzz fades to a low hum. The food’s been picked over, plates messy with bones and fries, bottles and empty pint glasses lined up in chaotic clusters across the table that has eight of us squeezed around it. It’s getting late now—maybe edging towards ten, maybe later—but no one’s in a rush to leave.
The noise is softer too. Less roar, more rumble. That post-match glow still clings to everything, but in that slowed, satisfied way that comes after winning something hard-fought. There’s laughter, shoulders pressed together, heads tipped back. Rugby guys, proud and bruised and loud.
Camden’s still next to me, his thigh still pressed against mine. He hasn’t moved away. Not once.
Lachie, with a cut on his brow and a twinkle in his eye that says he lives to cause problems, leans over with a mock-stern look. “Still here, Crawford? Thought you only stayedfor an hour before doing your brooding-wolf-slips-off-into-the-shadows thing.”
Camden makes a low noise, clearly unimpressed. “Piss off.”
Another guy—lean and tattooed, clearly a winger by the looks of him—grins around his bottle. “Seriously, though. He’s stayed all night. Write it down.”
Lachie eyes me like I’m part of some cosmic puzzle. “You’ve got a hell of a pull, mate. Usually takes a full five pints and an emergency team strategy session to keep him this long.”
“Maybe I’m just charming,” I offer.
Lachie smirks. “I like this one.” Then he glances back at Camden and, without missing a beat, says, “You should definitely come to the next match.”
Camden tenses beside me. Just slightly. But instead of arguing or deflecting like I expect him to, he says nothing. He simply takes another sip of his beer, eyes flicking anywhere but mine.
I look at him, trying to read what that silence means. Does he want me there? Or is this just one of those “it’s easier not to explain” things? Still, I did enjoy the game, and the buzz, and even the weird, live-wire thrill of watching him work like that.
So I grin. “Sure. I’m up for it.”
Camden doesn’t respond immediately, but I catch the corner of his mouth twitch, like he’s not entirely mad about it.
Then his phone buzzes again.
And again.
And again.
He pulls it out with a huff. “Sorry. It’s blowing up tonight.”
Lachie leans over with zero shame. “It’s his jerk-off group. They’re probably swapping nudes.”
I splutter mid-sip and cough-laugh so hard, I nearly snort beer out my nose. “Jesus.”
Camden glares at him. “Piss. Off.” But he’s not angry. Not really. More like exasperated. The kind of reaction that only comes from years of enduring the same brand of chaos. He looks at me and waves his phone slightly. “It’s not a jerk-off group.”
