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“What?” I say. “She’ll flip out if she finds out about you.”

His teeth run over that piercing in his lip and he says, “You think I pity you?”

I blink and push off the door. “I know you do.” Why wouldn’t he? “Look, I don’t blame you for what happened last night. You’re right. We both consented. But I have to stop hooking up with guys–athletes–because it’s easy and makes me feel good for a few minutes.”

His eyebrow lifts. “So you admit it was good.”

Better than good. I’m not used to the men I’m with making me feel like that.

“I admit it was a mistake. One I’d like to forget and one we never, ever, tell anyone, especially Twyler and Reese, that it happened.”

His jaw sets and there’s a dark flicker in those green eyes. He walks over to me and the room suddenly feels too tight–too small. My body reacts instantly to his proximity, because he’s right, even if I won’t admit it to him, the sex was fantastic. His mouth and hands, and fuck, his cock, were all way better than any of my other hook-ups lately. He was confident and respectful and made sure I came before him.

Both times.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Again. That shit that went down with Reynolds and McMichael? That’s reflective of them. Not you.” The muscle in the back of his jaw tics. “When I look at you, it’s sure as fuck not with pity. All I see is a ballsy, sexy, kickass woman, who’s fun to hang out with and also makes my dick hard. You’re Twyler’s best friend and she’s datingmybest friend, which means you’ve got to be pretty fucking awesome.” He eyes me carefully. “But if you want to forget this, we can forget it.”

“I want to forget it.”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Done.”

“Thank you.”

He starts toward the door. “Axel,” I grab him by the arm, “wait.”

He looks at me, eyebrow raised and I swear I see a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“You can’t go out there. If Twyler or Reese see you…”

“Oh.”

I turn and lean over the pink chair, flipping the latch on the bedroom window. “It’s a short drop.”

He laughs, but crosses the room, leaning down into the open space. “I haven’t had to sneak out of a girl’s room in a long time, T.”

“Tell me something,” I say, once he’s worked his body through the opening and he’s standing on the other side. He leans back in, his shoulders nearly as wide as the frame. “What’s the ‘T’ for?”

“It stands for what I think of every time you walk in the room.”

“What’s that?”

He smiles, that one that I know he uses to get what he wants and winks. “Trouble.”

6

Axel

I can’t forget it.

Despite every effort. Every cold shower. Every other girl that I smile and wink at around campus, I can’t get Nadia Beckwith out of my head.

Even now, three days later, I’m standing in the net, taking warm-up shots before the game, and all I’m thinking of is Trouble.

Nadia Beckwith.

That night had started out innocently enough. Hanging out at the Badger Den, drinking water, and feeling the weight of my probation. We’d commiserated over stupid decisions. Taking a shot of water in solidarity. Later, I offered to walk her home. There were no intentions. I just needed to get out of the bar where my teammates were drinking and having a good time, and she wanted to go home.

It was on my way.