Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“Bloody right.”
Jack picks me up and lifts me over the wall to set me on the grass. There’s a ball sitting beside the player bench.
Grinning, he picks it up and tosses it at me. “How ’bout we have a go?”
“Trust me. You don’t want any of this.” I juggle the ball, goading him with my eyes.
He stalks me toward the field. “Oh, you think you’re dangerous?”
“Bet your ass.”
“Shall I teach the rules before you go pro?”
“What’s so complicated about hitting people and running with the ball?”
He cocks his head at me, stopping at the edge of the field. “What’s this line called?”
“The sideline.”
“The touchline. And when you put the ball down in that box down there?” he says, referring to the space drawn like a football end zone.
“A touchdown?”
“A try.”
“Score or score not,” I correct, tossing the ball to him. “There is no try.”
“Here.” He walks me to a hash mark on the field and hands me the ball back. “Give it a go.”
“Go at what?”
Jack nods at the uprights. “Go on. Have a penalty kick.”
I snort. “Easy.”
Of course, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I line up my shot the way I watched the guys do in the game. I hold the ball out and take my best swing at it. I barely graze the thing, and Jack has to catch me from falling on my ass.
He busts out laughing. “Your form could use some work.”
Despite my first attempt, he takes the time to teach me about the rules and terminology as we toss the ball around. He’d make a good coach actually, with his patience to explain things in terms I understand. And he’s a good sport while he takes my occasional ribbing.
“All right, let’s have it.” He puts the ball on the ground between us. “All you’ve got to do is grab it before I do.”
“And then what?”
“If you manage to be quicker than me?” A devilish smirk meets my question, and he gets in a sort of football stance over the ball. “Well, you could try kicking it through the goalposts again. Though I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Watch it, Jackie boy.”
“You can run it, or you can kick it into touch, as long as it hits the ground at least once first.”
I crouch over the ball to mimic his stance. “Get ready to eat my dust.”
“I’m not going to go easy on you,” he warns. “Hope you can get grass stains out of that jacket.”
We square up. I let Jack count us down. Then when he opens his mouth to say, “One,” I snatch the ball first and dart past him before he realizes what’s happened.
His hands make a glancing swipe at my coattails, but I’m already gone, sprinting as fast as my feet will carry me. The distance to the try line is much farther away than it looked a moment ago. My lungs are burning in the frigid air as I chance a look over my shoulder— just as Jack wraps a muscular arm around my waist and tackles me to the ground.
I land with a thud, and the ball pops out of my hands.
“You lousy cheat,” he growls, marveling at me.
“If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying,” I cough out.
“I can’t believe it. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“I’m not the real Abbey.” I prop myself up on my elbows to catch my breath. “I’m her evil twin. I stuffed her in a suitcase and shoved her in the back of the closet.”
“Actually, that’d explain a lot.”
I shove at his shoulder, but he pins me back to the ground and leans in, pressing his lips to mine. His tongue pushes past the seams of my lips, and the next thing I know, he’s kissing me senseless. I forget myself and tangle my hands in his hair, wrapping my legs around him.
“I really like this Jack,” I say between hungry kisses. “You know, the one who wants me so bad he devours me on the rugby pitch.”
“Already told you—I’ve wanted to devour you from day one.” Jack’s face hovers over mine. He chuckles. “I thought it was obvious how much I fancied you.”
“Honestly, no. I mean, sure, you kissed me twice, but you also ran away screaming both times.”
“I did not scream.”
“Still ran, though.”
“But I came to my senses, didn’t I? And I did fancy you.” His lips caress mine before he lifts his head, offering a sheepish smile. “You said you didn’t like it when I was acting overprotective, but being protective is a sign I care. Like when my mate was pawing you at the party and I broke it up?”
“Ha! I knew you interrupted us out of jealousy.”
“Wasn’t only jealousy. Sam’s got a rep for rooting and running.”
“Rooting?”
“Fucking,” he clarifies.
“Oh my God. Stop being so Australian and speak English!” I grin up at him. “Okay. So you were protecting me from Sam. And Nate, apparently. Isn’t that right, Mr. If you’re going to be out all day, call your flatmates? Then there was Ben Tulley… Am I missing anyone?”