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Gray eyes. That’s all I saw. Gray eyes like a storm just before it breaks—and the way she looked at me under that mask... like she already owned my fucking soul.

She didn’t speak much. Just nodded. Bent. Opened her mouth like she was starving and I was the only thing that could satisfy her.

Sweat and breathless, filthy words whispered between strangers who pretended the night wasn’t going to ruin them.

God, she let me fuck her like a goddamn animal.

I spit in my palm and wrap my hand around my cock, tight and unforgiving. I picture her on her knees, mouth slick and stretched, that mask hiding everything except those eyes.

jerking harder now, precum slicking my palm. My head tips back, water pelting my neck as I let the filth take over. I want her on her knees, spit dripping from her lips, begging me to ruin her.

Her hair twisted in my hands, her smile soft like she thought I was something good. The thought alone wrecks me. Faster. My body jolts. A reminder of how good it felt pushes me over the edge and-

Flash.

Katarina’s face.

Not masked. Just there. That same mouth, just as swollen. Those eyes, stormy and pissed. Her voice in my head: “That all you got, pretty boy?”

No. No. I blink hard, push her out, bring the mask back. Lace. Big, delicious tits bouncing as I fuck her from behind, her ass red from where I spanked her for back-talking. But Katarina’s laugh cuts through the fantasy like a whip.

That bratty little smirk. That defiant tilt of her chin.

What the fuck?

I squeeze harder. Stroke deeper. Focus on the way the masked girl begged me to come inside her. No strings. No names. Just pure, raw need.

But the face flickers again—Katarina, lips parted, breathy, like she’s about to say my name.

Say it, I think. Say my name like you said it in the parking lot. All spit and fire.

Goddammit.

My orgasm hits like a sledgehammer, violent and unrelenting. I groan through clenched teeth, as my dick spurts cum on the shower wall with the image of Katarina Novak—burning behind my eyelids.

I sag forward, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my back. I open my eyes, watching my spend slide down before pushingmyself up. “Thank fuck for the removal shower head,” I mutter as I pull it off and spray down the wall before showering like normal.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why can’t I get her out of my fucking head?

Chapter nine

Katarina

Theysaynonewsis good news. Personally? No Liam, is better news.

Today’s actually been tolerable. Three players down. No one tried to call Red Bull a recovery strategy, or called intermittent fasting a “vibe.” Jake, our backup goalie, showed me his snack rotation spreadsheet this morning. I’m talking full color-coding, macro breakdowns, even timed alerts. Like he’s prepping to launch snacks into orbit. I mean, great for him—makes my job easier—but Jesus. I wasn’t ready for a PowerPoint presentation before coffee. Sean attempted a TED Talk on carbs—bless his heart—and Aiden just stared at his protein bar like it cheated on him.

Honestly, A+ effort. not a bad showing. I almost let myself feel hopeful.

And then I see his name on my clipboard, and all that goodwill dies in a ditch.

Liam Steele

AKA: Captain of the Parking Lot Meltdown. The six-foot-something storm cloud who accused me of insurance fraud because I didn’t telepathically see him reversing his over bloated sports car like he was auditioning for Fast & Furious,Dumbass Edition.

And now he’s on my schedule.