Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Storm

I hit the ground with a thud. The smell of soil and grass, sweat and blood made my nostrils flare. Blood surged through my adrenaline stream. Pounded.

I shoved Jay off me and jumped back to my feet.

I stalked the couple of metres to snatch up the ball, tucked it back under my arm and turned to the scrum-half. “Gonna have to do better than that.”

His heart wasn't in the game. It hadn't been since he transferred from the Sydney Devils. Jayden Lang was a fucking good player. When he wanted to be.

The problem was, that wasn't often enough. The Smashers deserved a hundred percent, not a half-assed tackle delivered by an under twelve.

“Take a break,” Coach shouted.

“We just started,” I said under my breath, eyes still on Jay and his petulant disinterest.

He responded with a grunt and a glare before stomping off to snatch up his water bottle. He squirted water into his mouth and grimaced as though it tasted bad.

“Give him some time.” Daniel Frost gave me a slap on the shoulder before he too headed over to grab up his water bottle. The big prop made no attempt to keep his voice down. That earned him a glare from Jay. Lucky him.

“It's been three months,” I pointed out.

The first preseason game started on Friday night. The time for pussyfooting around was done. Correction, we'd had no time for that in the first place.

Not to mention, I was only interested in one kind of pussy, and that didn't involve feet.

Usually.

I swallowed down a mouthful of water and allowed my brain to go back to the other night. Panther. I'd bet everything my little kitten had claws. The expression on her face when she came was seared into my brain like it was branded there. The breathy little moans as she slid her fingers in and out of herself.

Thinking about her made me rock hard.

“Some take longer to acclimatise than others,” Frost pointed out.

“You're the weatherman now?” I teased gruffly. “You going to tell me how long it takes before he thaws?”

Him and fucking Atlas Underwood. They were both new to the team. Both former Sydney Devils. They'd finished the last season on the top of the table. Premiership wins under their belts. And now they were playing for the Dusk Bay Smashers. We weren't the bottom dwellers. We hadn't had a wooden spoon in a decade, but we weren't on top either. Both players seemed to take that as a personal insult. Why were they here? The Devils tapped out their salary cap on all the other players. The Smashers were the best deal they could get.

In my humble opinion, they were lucky to be here. If they didn't like it, they were welcome to fuck off. They were already absent mentally. Physically wouldn't make much difference right now.

Frost shrugged. “In his own time. What does it matter, as long as he's performing on the field.”

I cut him a look. That was the problem. If Jay performed on the paddock the way he was at training, we'd be fucked from the first whistle. We were better than that. He was better than that.

“Maybe you should mind your own fucking business, Stormy,” Atlas sneered. “Seems like you have some work to do on your own game, if you ask me.”

“No one asked you,” I told him. “I don't know what they taught you over there at the Devils, but when we play rugby, a knock on isn't allowed.”

I'd watched him since training started and he was sloppy with his ball placement. He could do better than he was. As a player, he was high-profile enough that if the club cancelled his contract, it would make headline news. That would be a last resort, and not a good one.

“Who died and made you a smug prick?” Atlas asked.

I grinned. “No one needed to die. I was born this awesome. Shame guys like you have to work so hard for mediocrity.” I ducked as he swung. His fist narrowly missed making contact with the side of my face.

I dropped my shoulder and rammed it right into his stomach.

He staggered several steps before falling back onto the grass. I fell with him, landing on his legs before rolling away.

He was right there with me, one arm over my chest, the other landing a punch to my jaw.

Pain blossomed on the side of my face, but I punched back with my left fist, connecting with his face, his neck, anywhere I could reach.

“Fuck, break it up!” Coach Max Stanley shouted.

In the next moment, hands grabbed Atlas and me, and pulling us apart.

I got to my feet and jerked myself out of Frost and Ferris Ramsey's grips, shaking off any further attempt to touch me.

I pulled up the front of my shirt to dab at the blood under my nose. Nothing I couldn't handle. I got worse during a game.

“Save it for the field,” Coach snapped. “You're supposed to smash the other guys, not each other. If you want to be a fucking team, this bullshit has to stop.” He glared at me, then at Atlas.

“Sorry, Coach,” I mumbled.

I wasn't sorry. Atlas took the first swing, and got what he deserved. I should have broken his nose. Or better yet, his jaw. With the right injury, he'd be out for the rest of the season.

On the other hand, the penalty for that— I'd be out too. Hell if I was going to give up my place for a dickhead like him. Whatever his problem was, I needed to stop making it mine.

Atlas muttered something and stomped away.

“That was interesting,” Frost remarked. “I know you were just about to hand him his ass.” He actually sounded disappointed the head coach had stepped in to stop the scuffle.

“On a silver platter,” I said with a nod.

Ramsey, the Smashers' hooker, gave me a long look, his blue eyes conveying his annoyance. Whether it was with me, or with Atlas, was anyone's guess. The stocky Englishman was hard to get a read on. If he spoke, it was usually only a word or two. Most of his thoughts, he managed to convey in looks and grunts.

“Ramsey approves, don't you, Ram?” Frost teased. “He'd like nothing better than to see you smash Atlas.”

Ramsey turned his disapproving look on Frost before turning and walking away.

“Atlas is right,” Jay said darkly. “You're a prick. You think you own the whole fucking team. He should have broken your face. You wouldn't be so fucking smug then.” He cut me a look of pure loathing.

I was only too happy to return the look. “I'd still be this smug,” I said. “No way he'd be able to break my face anyway. He punches like a wet noodle.”

I had two older sisters, I knew better than to claim he punched like a girl. Especially since they both played rugby and the older one, Rainy, was the first person who ever broke my nose. No one fucked with either of them and got away with it. Not even me.

Frost dropped his head back and laughed. “Wet noodle. That's hilarious.”

“You know what your problem is?” Jay directed the question to Frost. “You think everything's funny, especially your boyfriend here.” He gestured towards me.

That just made Frost laugh harder. “It's hysterical you think that's some kind of insult.”

“I think it's kind of sad,” I said. “It's obvious Jay is hiding some personal preferences, probably from himself.”

Even now, sexuality was something a lot of guys on the team struggled with. As far as I was concerned, love was love. Preferences shouldn't be used as a weapon against someone else. As for denial, that just made everyone miserable.

Jay glared at me. “You think everyone wants to fuck you. You're delusional.” Before I could respond, he turned and stalked away.

I shrugged. “I don't think everyone wants to fuck me, just the discerning ones.”

Which brought my mind back to Panther. What was her real name? Who was she when she wasn't taking her clothes off for strangers? She was absolutely fucking gorgeous, and I got the impression she was smart. The fact she wasn't lacking in confidence added to her appeal.

In my experience, the best strippers were ones who knew exactly what they had, and were happy to share it. That was her to a T. She wasn't doing it because she had no choice. She enjoyed what she did and she was paid well to do it.

In spite of throwing myself into training, she occupied a corner of my mind, a lingering fascination coupled with the memory of her incredible body.

“There's that look again,” Frost said. He snapped his fingers in front of my face. I swatted him away, but he just grinned.

“What look?” I dabbed at my face again. Atlas had opened a scab from a past training session and the blood was still trickling.

“That distracted look,” Frost said. “Did you meet someone? Does she have a sister? Or a best friend?”

He looked like he was going to add something else, but he didn't. I suspected he was going to ask if she had a brother, but Jay wasn't the only one struggling with his sexuality. If he needed my support, he only had to ask. He was one of the better guys on the team. More easy-going than the others, even if he was almost as inclined to take a swing at someone as Atlas.

“No idea,” I admitted. “I met her at Flirts the other night, right after you left.”

Frost frowned. “You met a girl at Flirts? Was it the chick that works behind the bar? The one with boobs for days?” He held out his hands in front of his chest, at least twice the size of the woman's actual breasts.

His eyes widened slightly and he groaned. “Wait. Was she a stripper? Did she put out? Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have left when I did. I might have gotten some action too.”

A flare of annoyance in my chest had to be pushed down before I could respond. The idea of him touching my Panther made me want to take a swing at him. I had to try even harder to ignore the way my dick twitched at the thought of him fucking her while I watched.

“You left at the right time.” My voice was tight. “I didn't fuck her, we just…talked.” That was all he needed to know.

“Keller,” Coach called out to me. “Go and have that seen to.” He waved toward my face. “Don't want you bleeding all over the paddock.” As if the grass hadn't soaked up its share of blood. It had certainly seen a good amount of mine, every drop given willingly to the game I loved.

Since doing what he asked would take me away from Frost and this conversation, I nodded and replied, “Yes, Coach.”

I made to step away, but stopped when he spoke again.

“I meant what I said. Keep the bullshit for the opposition. The last thing we need is to fight amongst ourselves.”

I cut him a look. “Agreed, Coach.” No doubt he'd tear strips off Atlas when they were alone together. Between him and Jay, they were an explosion waiting to happen. One I didn't want to be in the middle of when it went off. But I would be, because I usually was.

The Smashers were my team, my family. I wasn't going to let a couple of bad eggs ruin that for us or for our fans. They'd stuck with us through the years, while we battled to get ourselves closer to the top. For them, we would. They deserved nothing less.

I nodded to the coach and trotted across the field, the grass springing under my boots. I slipped into the locker room before heading for the infirmary.

“Coach said I needed to…”

I stopped in the doorway and stared.

What the absolute, ever loving fuck?