Page 24 of Red Zone (PCU Storm #2)

CARTER

T he second I’m out of that damn conference room, I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll to her name.

She sat there the whole meeting, cool and polished, rattling off my numbers like I was nothing more than a stat sheet she couldn’t care less about. Like she wasn’t in my bed three nights just last week, wearing my shirt and looking at me like I was breaking through her walls one chip at a time.

It irritated the fuck out of me.

But…I was also slightly impressed.

Because she’s so good at it. At being composed, seemingly untouchable. And it makes me want to kiss the shit out of her.

I don’t even bother overthinking it.

Meet me outside the weight room in 10

Don’t make me come find you

Her reply comes quickly.

Princess: Busy. later.

I smirk.

nah. now.

just a minute of your time. promise.

No response.

But ten minutes later, the air shifts around me as she rounds the corner—like it always does.

Her hair’s piled on top of her head, a few dark strands slipping loose to frame her face, and she’s clutching her laptop like a shield.

That purple PCU hoodie she’s wearing fits her too perfectly, hugging her curves in a way that makes my mouth dry.

Pair it with those leggings, and yeah—good thing I wore compression shorts this morning.

She glances up and spots me leaning against the wall.

A faint pink blooms across her cheeks, and my chest does this stupid little thing.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re quite needy?” she says lightly, stopping just close enough for me to catch the faint scent of her shampoo.

“You came,” I shoot back, my voice low.

“You’re lucky I’ve decided to bless you with my time.”

“Always am,” I say, grabbing the edge of her sleeve and tugging her toward the maintenance closet by the weight room door.

She stiffens just enough for me to notice.

“Carter—”

“Relax,” I murmur, already opening the door. “Just need a minute.”

The closet is dark and narrow, warm from the weight room air. The faint smell of disinfectant and rubber mats fills my lungs as I close the door behind us.

Perfect.

I rest one hand against the wall above her head, stepping just close enough to feel the tension roll off her shoulders. Her eyes glint in the dim light, and I swear I catch the way her breath hitches even though she tries to hide it.

“This really couldn’t wait?” she murmurs.

I shake my head, leaning in just a little. “Nope.”

“What do we need to be in a dark closet for?” she asks, her voice softer now.

I grin slowly, letting my gaze drag down to her lips.

“This.”

Then I kiss her.

She freezes at first, hands caught awkwardly between us still clutching her laptop, but then she melts.

Her fingers twist into my hoodie, yanking me closer, and that soft little noise she lets out when I press her back against the wall? I feel it everywhere.

My hand finds her jaw, angling her head as I deepen the kiss. My other slides to her hip, thumb brushing the waistband of her leggings. The warmth of her body against mine is maddening, and she tastes faintly like the coffee she drinks too much of, bitter and sweet at the same time.

When I finally break away to breathe, my forehead stays pressed to hers. My pulse is still hammering in my ears.

“Been thinking about you all damn day,” I murmur, my thumb tracing along her cheekbone.

She glares half-heartedly, breathless. “You dragged me in here just to kiss me?”

I grin wider. “Yeah. Got a problem with it?”

Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile.

This time she kisses me, and fuck, that does things to me I can’t even name.

We’re both so caught up that neither of us notices her phone buzzing until it goes off a third time.

She groans into my mouth before finally pulling back, fumbling it out of her pocket.

“Don’t,” I mutter, already chasing her lips again.

But she holds up a finger, scrolling through her notifications. “Work,” she sighs. “I have a meeting in five.”

I drag my hands down her hips, giving her a look that says everything I’m thinking.

She rolls her eyes like she can read my mind anyway.

“You know,” I murmur, leaning in just close enough to brush my mouth over her ear. “It’s kinda sexy. Sneaking around like this.”

That earns me a sharp, incredulous look.

I smirk. “We should do it more often.”

Her laugh is quiet, low in her throat, and she shakes her head. “You really are trouble, with a capital T.”

“Guilty as charged.”

But she’s already adjusting her laptop under her arm, reaching for the door.

She stops just before stepping out and glances back over her shoulder. That dangerous little grin she gives me before leaning in to kiss me one last time?

It leaves me wrecked.

“Stay put for a few minutes,” she murmurs against my mouth. “Last thing we need is anyone seeing us leave at the same time.”

I nod, watching her slip out.

When the door shuts behind her, I lean back against the wall and run a hand through my hair. My lips are still tingling. My chest feels too tight.

I’m grinning like an idiot.

Which probably means I’ve officially taken one too many hits to the head.

I stay in the closet a few more minutes, trying to calm myself and my friend in my pants down, trying to stop thinking about how good she smelled, like a fresh summer breeze mixed with vanilla. I don’t know exactly what it is, but the thought of it alone could easily make me hard again.

Finally, I ease the door open and step out into the hallway, my hands shoved in my pockets like nothing happened.

The corridor is empty—at least at first, until a voice behind me cuts through the quiet.

“Yo, Hayes.”

I turn to see Jaxon coming down the hall, towel slung around his neck from the obvious workout he just put in.

“Hey,” I say casually, forcing myself to straighten up and fall into step with him.

He eyes me for a second, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “You look a little…flushed.”

“Weight room,” I lie smoothly.

He chuckles low in his throat, clearly unconvinced, but he doesn’t push.

We walk out into the cool evening air, and Jaxon starts talking about tomorrow’s film review, but I’m only half-listening.

Because my mind’s already back on my coach’s daughter.

On her lips. Her breath against my neck.

Trouble with a capital T?

Yeah, but I think she’s the trouble I’m getting into.

And I’m already in too deep to care.