Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Bea awoke from a dream where Zane had been licking ice cream off her naked body, slowly warming her goose bump–covered flesh. Ironically, she had woken up drenched in sweat.
She needed to clear her head of him in a bad way. Exercise all of the lust out of her body…before she did something desperate and stupid.
It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning as she started running along her normal path through the city. She pushed herself hard, working up a pretty good sweat within the first half mile. But no matter how fast she went or how heavily she breathed, only one face appeared in front of her. Only one voice reverberated in her ears.
Only one night played over and over in her mind, so potent it felt as though it had happened just yesterday.
But no man was allowed to take up residence in her head for that long.
She had to evict him…and fast.
Hoping it would distract her, she decided to change up her route a little. She headed toward the park two blocks away instead of running through the National Mall. There was a track at the park, so she could run a few laps around it before continuing along her normal route.
The first thing she saw when she entered the park was a group of guys playing soccer in the big grassy area the track circled. Her interest was piqued, especially when she noticed they were divided up between shirts and skins.
Bingo.
That was exactly the distraction she needed. Eye candy. Some other gorgeous man to drool over. Someone who wasn’t Zane Price. Damn him. He was ruining her life.
She started running along the track, approaching the group of guys.
Then her whole world stopped.
Because she recognized one particular stubbled face among the panting, sweating, bevy of men.
Zane.
And great Abraham Lincoln, he was on the skins team.
Thank you, Jesus.
She stared at Zane’s bare chest, hardly believing what she was seeing. She hadn’t seen his body since they had sex, and even then she hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the dark.
But this was daylight, and his tanned skin glistened under the sun’s rays, allowing her to better appreciate his bulging muscles that were flexing and tightening with exertion. Now, she could memorize every detail.
She’d always had a weakness for athletes.
And this one might be the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
She slowly became aware of how stalkerish she looked, having stopped in the middle of the track to ogle the man. But before she could start running again, dragging her dignity along behind her, Zane’s head swung around in her direction.
His eyes immediately connected with hers. He squinted for a second before realizing it was her, and that sexy smile she was falling in love with took over his face.
That smile was going to be the death of her.
He yelled, “Time out,” at the rest of the guys, and ran over to where she stood with her limbs immobile.
Her pulse spiked with every long stride he took.
“Bea, hey.” God, why did he have to sound so happy to see her? Running away was so much harder when he sounded like that. “What are you doing here?”
Eye contact, Bea. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look—
She looked down.
And, oh, darlin’. Her British crumpet was built.
Not that she didn’t already know that, but she had never seen him like this before, all sweaty and—
Wait. He wasn’t her anything.
Snap the hell out of it, girl.
“Um. Just out for a run,” she said to his abs. Like, yeah, she was actually having a conversation with his six-pack—her eyes hadn’t met his for that whole sentence.
She had never before used the word lickable to describe any part of a man. But mother of all things holy, Zane’s abs were so very lickable.
He cleared his throat. “See anything you like?”
She finally snapped out of it. He looked amused, as if trying not to laugh. But those blue eyes of his were soft as he waited for her response, tender even.
She flushed and looked away, wondering how much more embarrassment she could handle. She never could keep her balance around him.
“Sorry,” she blurted out. “I’ll let you get back to your game.” She was a nanosecond away from bolting before she could humiliate herself further.
“Would you care to join us?”
That crisp accent was caressing her from head to toe. She was loathe to turn down an opportunity for a game of anything, especially if she was playing with him. But she wasn’t sure it was such a great idea.
“It’s not rugby, after all,” he added, those eyes sparkling.
She bit her bottom lip, sifting through her options. “Well, I—”
“Unless, of course, you’re too intimidated to play with a bunch of big, brawny men… A little thing like you probably couldn’t keep up, anyway.”
Oh, he knew just how to play her, how to hook her. The look on his face was both knowing and devious. Jerk.
She still took the bait.
“Puh-lease. You soccer players are the biggest wimps of all.” She started walking toward the group of guys without waiting on Zane.
He caught up and walked beside her, looking down with a challenging smirk. “Maybe your Yank football players are. But we Brits are real men,” he said, dramatically puffing out his chest and flexing his biceps.
She was pretty sure he wasn’t trying to impress her with that display, but nevertheless…mission accomplished.
“We’ll see about that,” she muttered.
His smile just got bigger. “Brilliant. You can be skins.”