34

Kassie

Mission Accomplished

One of our campus security officers escorted me down to the field. A field overrun with football officials, happy teammates, and a swamp of folks wearing blue jerseys. I was corralled back and forth, embarrassed to even be out there.

What the hell am I going to do?

How was I supposed to compete with a gaggle of topless bleacher bunnies?

"Hey?" I got the officer's attention. "If you just won a football game, what would you want your girlfriend to do?"

He chortled. "I can't say it out loud."

I rolled my eyes. "I mean in public."

"Sure. That works too."

No fucking help .

Ducking around three referees discussing together, I almost bumped into Coach Lawson, and the ten or twenty people that always trailed after him. His eyes lit up when he saw me.

"Ms. Ragar," he boomed. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you too, sir," I replied, barely able to get my voice heard above the noise. "Everybody did so great. That was something, for sure—"

" We did great," he corrected me, patting my shoulder as he passed. "Welcome to the Romans, Ms. Ragar."

Doesn't he know about the fake relationship?

I glanced after him, confused, but the crowd broke beyond him and I could finally see exactly who I was searching for.

Ryan.

Number four stood in front of a dozen cameras and reporters with microphones. He towered above all of them. Without his helmet on, his curls were damp with sweat and my eyes trailed down his body, down his broad shoulders, his muscles, his ass in those pants —

Oh my god. Get it together.

Reluctantly, I trailed after the security officer who pushed through the rest of the crowd and stood about two feet behind Ryan. This was his big moment. And I had to ruin it. I gazed up at him, mind spinning with what I needed to do.

"Kassandra!" one of the reporters shouted and Ryan shifted back, glancing behind him.

For a moment, I could see the Ryan that he put together for the cameras. The set jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, a complete look of concentration while he carefully selected what to say in front of an audience. Once he saw me though, his face cleared.

"Kassie?"

I swallowed. "Hi—hey…baby."

Oh god.

"What are you doing down here?"

I crept up behind him, not comfortable with anything about this. Cleo had put me through media training but the consultants had gotten more than they bargained for with me. It was an entire workout not to tell reporters to back the hell up. They were too close.

"You were…" I struggled with my words, keeping as quiet as possible. "You were amazing. You had seconds counting down, and I sure as shit thought—" Stop cursing . "Sorry, I thought we were going into overtime but you were so fast. "

Half of a smile lifted on his lips. "You were watching."

"Of course, I was watching." I gazed up into those dark honey eyes, like I didn't need to concentrate. "You were incredible, baby."

It was easier to say the second time around. Ryan's half of a smile crossed to a full one, more approachable, more presentable, more human for the cameras, but I could practically hear Cleo buzzing in my ear. Me telling Ryan that he could play football wasn't going to outshine Adam and a bunch of titties.

I reached out for Ryan's arm and tugged him down. The football player was too tall. I couldn't whisper in his ear unless I brought him to my level.

"Cleo wants us to do something."

The pleased smile disappeared off of Ryan's voice. "Oh. I understand."

"No, wait." I didn't want Ryan to think that Cleo had told me to compliment him. Not that it was beneath this arrangement, but I meant all of it. "You were incredible. I'm being serious, Ryan."

"Kassandra!" one of the reporters called out. "What do you think sealed the deal with the game today?"

Christ, I'm not talking to you .

When I glanced up at Ryan again, he hadn't looked away from me at all. Sometimes, it was easy to forget how intense he could be. Which wasn't what the world wanted from him. They wanted him squeezed down to something they could understand. Someone not Ryan.

Without a second thought, I pulled him down by his shirt collar. No hesitation. I didn't have the time for it. Quickly, I kissed his cheek.

It wasn't smooth or well-planned. I let go of his collar just as quickly and stumbled back. I could taste the salt on my lips from his sweat. My heart thrummed in my chest and there was something new on Ryan's face too, something the cameras couldn't get enough of, flashing at us.

Mission accomplished.

I tried to bury down the scummy feeling I got every time I paraded him around like a poodle, whistling to make him jump for the cameras. We were both getting something out of this. I couldn't forget that. He would be heading to the draft, he'd look nice and pretty for the articles, and I'd get the money I needed to move to Florida.

Flushed with embarrassment, I started walking back to the security officer.

Until something grabbed my jersey.

I glanced down to see Ryan's fingers locked on the fabric.

My eyes flickered to his, his molten honey that left my spine-tingling. His fingers flexed over the jersey and he tugged me back to him. My heart raced in my chest. Blood pounded in my ears. We were so much closer, I had to tilt my head to look up at him. Only a few inches separated us.

"That's not good enough, art girl," he told me, his voice low.

Ryan dipped down and pressed his lips against mine.

Holy. Fuck.

My whole body curved towards him, impossible to move any other way with Ryan capturing my lips. His fingers went to my hair, tilting me to the side. Oh, oh, oh . He deepened the kiss, dropping his hand to the back of my neck, and goosebumps jumped to my skin. The shock alone made my blood pound. With no thoughts in my head, I grabbed at his jersey, pulling him to me.

The second I did, the soft kisses were gone. He kissed me insistently, demanding them, pulling me tighter to his body. God, I was lost in those kisses.

The reporters laughing was the only thing that broke me out of the trance.

I pushed at his chest, panting, trying to get back some of the air and sense that I lost the moment Ryan's lips touched mine. But he wasn't panting at all. He gazed down, watching me with new lines on his face. A torn look.

A human look.

"Good job," I gasped and stumbled away from him, off to the grass. Because Ryan had interviews to do. Ryan had a whole checklist of things to do that didn't involve me today and tomorrow.

And if I'm around him any longer, I might wrap my legs around him.