Page 65 of Cross the Line
“Texting our girl.”
JJ
At the bar. Come join?
His pursed grin says he likes my reply more than he wants to let on.
The win did him good. It eased more of the heaviness from the last twenty-four hours. Playing Florida forces our heads out of our asses. They’re so damn physical that all our energy is required to push back.
“For the man of the match,” Matheo announces, placing a large drink in front of Eli. “Club soda, ice, and lime. I got it right…?”
Eli nods. “Thanks.”
I don’t know what’s up between them, but Matheo has been so mild around Eli since this morning that it’s starting to get awkward.
Erik and Ansel join us with a couple of stools scrounged from nearby tables and another tray of drinks.
“All righty,” Erik announces, “we got lights all round.”
“Except you,” Ansel says, placing a tall glass of soda in front of me.
“Figured you wouldn’t want anything else tonight,” Matheo tells me when I glance at him.
He’s right. After last night and what Eli told me this morning, I’m not sure I can stomach liquor. The smell from the beers turns my stomach when Eli adjusts beside me, pressing his thigh to mine.
It doesn’t matter that I already know he’s there—that the heat of his body is burrowed into my bones. The contact, the feel of him seeking me out, is everything I need to ground me.
Then our girl walks in, and my world steadies.Finally.
Christina clings to her arm as they amble through the dim-lit space to the bar, where they perch on stools with their backs to us. I’ve got the best fucking view in the place—Fin’s tight, round ass in skin-tight leggings that emphasize her svelte waist.
Holy fuck. My hands tighten around my drink when she shakes out her hair and leans to read the menu the bartender places between her and Christina.
Then she glances over her shoulder with a bright-eyed, teasing smile, and I’m done watching.
I shift to go to her when Eli’s hand grips my thigh beneath the table.
“Stay,” he says, squeezing harder as I freeze mid-rise. “Sit.” I glance at him, and his gaze narrows on mine as he instructs, “Watch.”
Watch?
That kind of torture is his thing. I’m not a watcher. I don’t have that kind of control.
Fuck.
My ass collapses back onto the green leather under the gravity of his command.
What in the fuck is happening to me? A thrill shoots through me at the approving caress of his hand on my thigh. A wordless ‘good boy’ that somersaults in my stomach.
Nobody has ever praised me so silently, and yet, my entire being recognizes it. I’m buzzing from head to toe.
“Relax, JJ,” he murmurs beneath the burst of laughter from the guys, leaning a smidge closer to add, “Our girl likes it when we watch her... give her what she wants.”
He grins when I glance at him. Fucking beams at me with a teasing expression that sets my pulse blazing. Galloping hard and fast so that it’s all I hear when our girl adjusts her cropped sweater and the sleeve slips off her shoulder.
Goddamn.
A green cartoon T. rex adorns her skin.
