Page 72 of Fever Dream
Momentum is an incredible thing. It makes no sense from a purely scientific perspective because it’s produced entirely by intangibles—energy, adrenaline, confidence, belief.
The Fever catch the momentum and it’s like we can do no wrong. The whole team’s confidence lifts, focus sharpens and our risk-taking pays off. I can see it when the Dragons become hesitant in their moves, and their skills start to suffer.
When Langton takes an intercept mark in the defensive fifty, I break for a run down the wing. Nate Winters takes a handballfrom Langton and looks up and sees me. I’m in perfect position and Winter’s kick lands on my chest. I race for the forward line, taking three bounces, eyes on the forwards but none of them can break from their defenders. If I kick to them, it will be a fifty-fifty and we can’t risk that right now.
I eye the goals, making up my mind at the last second as I weave past one final defender and launch the ball from the fifty-metre arc. The kick is long and loopy, but it curves back right at the last moment and sails through the goal posts.
Goal!
We’re even with the Dragons and the crowd senses an upset. The stalemate doesn’t last long when Sonny wins the ball in the centre and punts it to Vadra in the forward line. Vadra shoots for goal from a tight angle. He misses the goals but the behind puts us up by one point and the Fever Pitch goes off like a rocket. I’ve never heard anything like the crowd at tonight’s game, like the Fever has finally made their mark on the big stage.
We stave off the Dragon’s desperate attempts to get the ball into their forward line and the score remains the same when the final siren finally blares.
The grudge match has been decided. Fever win.
***
I am chock full of adrenaline still an hour after the game. I’ve sat in the ice bath, completed my post-game treatment, showered and dressed, and am now sitting beside Coach at the team presser where nearly all the questions are directed at me.
Coach is radiating with pride for me, and I have to admit it feels kind of awesome. I answer the questions as patiently as I can because I am honestly still buzzing out of my head, and I am desperate to get out of here. Desperate to find Harrison and extract that promise from him to come home with me tonight.
Later.
The presser ends and I beeline for the treatment room where I last saw Harrison. Most of the guys have cleared out already, just a couple of stragglers and team administrators still hovering around. Harrison is exactly where I left him, restocking the medical supplies and looking like everything I want in my life right now.
He glances up as I step into the room. The energy that has buzzed close to the edge all night vibrates between us.
“Ready?” I say, ignoring the way my voice seems to have dipped an octave lower.
“Ready,” Harrison replies, eyes not leaving mine.
He steps to my side, and we waste no time heading for the player’s carpark. The team are out celebrating tonight. I know they’re expecting me to join them, but I think I might actually go insane if I don’t get my hands on Harrison soon.
He must feel the same because he doesn’t mention the club where the team have gone to celebrate even though I know he was invited. He’s quiet as he stretches his long legs out in my Range Rover and I remind myself to keep my eyes on the road instead of Harrison Thornfield’s distracting body.
I’m just so into him. I don’t know when or how or why it happened, which light was switched on in my brain to convertliketolust. And maybe something more. I like him in ways I’ve never liked anyone before but at the same time, nothing about that scares me. Because it’s Harrison. And he’s mine and always has been.
I park my Range Rover in the garage and walk swiftly to the side entrance. Harrison is a warm presence at my side, alive and tangible, like all the atoms in my body are reaching out for him. I open the door, and we step inside together. The door closes behind us with a soft snick.
It’s like a switch flicks on between us. Harrison is on me in an instant, my back hitting the wall as his mouth plants itself on mine and his tongue devours me. I want to be devoured by him. I want to devour him back.
We can’t get enough of each other, like we want to meld our bodies into one as he presses against me, his chest as solid against me as the wall at my back. His hands cup my face, nothing gentle about the way he angles my head so he can kiss me the way he wants. And my hands? Well, my hands get to tangle in those delicious curls that occupy far too much of my daydreams.
I can feel the hard outline of him pushing up against where I am just as hard and my brain goes right ahead and explodes. I have never wanted anything like I want Harrison tonight.
My hands drop down his back, clutching his ass as I pull him in tighter, his moans devouring mine as I push my hips out to meet his, desperate for friction.
“You’re driving me crazy, Casey,” Harrison moans, breaking the kiss to trace hard kisses along my jaw. I tip my head back, welcoming him when he finds that soft spot just beneath my ear, the one that makes me moan.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, sound muzzled by his kisses. “Tell me what you want.”
I don’t know if we’re on the same page about where tonight is heading. It’s not something we’ve spoken about before, about how far we’re prepared to take things between us. But I know what I want, and I squeeze my hand between our merged bodies, tightening my grip as I palm his hard cock, relishing the sounds of Harrison’s desperate moan.
“How about we go upstairs, and you stick this inside me,” I say.
Harrison stills for a moment before his head lifts to look down at me. His eyes are lust drunk, lips puffy and cheeksflushed, curls mussed from the work of my hands. I know there are questions on that pretty face but I silence his curiosity with a finger to his kiss-swollen lips.
“Yes, I have thought about this. Yes, I know what I’m asking. Yes, I really, really want this. I want you inside me, Harrison.”
