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When I finally get my shirt over Elise’s head, she’s glaring at me with such fierceness, I can practically see her ice-blue eyes lit with flames behind them.

Her shrill voice is like an ice pick to my eardrums, but I don’t give a damn.

“What, Elise? Did you want to stand here with your tits out for everyone to see?” I bark out, my tone not any nicer than hers.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. “They’re just breasts, Rafael.”

She says that, and yet, her cheeks were flaming the moment those breasts were getting attention from everyone around us.

Though I don’t bother pointing that out.

Almost like I sure as hell won’t be pointing out the fact that they most certainly are not “just breasts.” Elise has an incredible rack, but as a grown-ass man who’s over a decade older than her, I have to continually remind myself that she’s also my coach’s daughter.

Fucking Christ. You’d think I’d have got that through my head by now, but I can’t seem to. Not when Elise is the most annoyingly stunning human I’ve ever met in my life.

Nakoa’s booming voice cuts through the chatter on the field. “Elise, what’re we playing?” he calls over to her, a small grin on his face.

“Football,” I answer at the same time as she answers, “Rugby.”

Her eyes cut to me, narrowing slightly. “He didn’t ask you, Coach. ” She uses that word like it’s a threat, and every time, it makes my dick jump to attention for her.

Again, my teammates manage to remind me how much more slowly men grow up compared to women when we’re surrounded by their whistled responses.

I roll my eyes. “You sure you want to do that, princess? Rugby’s a lot more physical than football,” I remind her.

She exhales sharply, her eyes narrowing slightly, but maintains the smug smirk she wears so often. “I’m sure, unless ”—her eyes flit to mine with mischief—“you’re afraid of losing to a bunch of women?”

Thankfully, her voice isn’t loud enough for anyone besides me to hear because if it were, I’d be fearing for my life right now. Truthfully, these women scare me.

“You know what? Rugby sounds great. ” The thought of playing football again makes me nauseous, so despite her intentions, this is to my benefit. My eyes coast over the players on the field, and with a clap of my hands, I announce the last part of the day. “We’re playing rugby.”

An eerie chill falls over the group as moods shift.

The usually cocky, sometimes tone-deaf men are standing with their mouths ajar.

Meanwhile, the women are grinning, their eyes darting to one another as if coming up with a hidden plan with not a single word spoken. Like I said, the women are terrifying.

I shake my head. “Absolutely not. I’ve been your coach for long enough to know you’re formulating some plan that’s bound to get me in trouble.

This is not men against women. Split up with equal numbers of footballers and ruggers on each team,” I announce, and much to my disappointment, the women don’t deflate.

They still look just as lethal as they had moments before.

This is about to be brutal.

Wordlessly, the women divide up equally, and it doesn’t escape me that the less experienced players, the ones who’ve recently sustained injuries, and those who generally don’t play as well for one reason or another all end up on one team.

Elise motions for Nakoa, Jelani, and several of our other strongest players to join her team.

Her eyes meet mine, and she winks before choosing Elijah, our newest rookie player.

I can’t help but chuckle. She’s strategic, and begrudgingly, I find it impossibly sexy.

No, you don’t, you bastard.

I shake out the thought, running over to the side of the field with the players I’m now partnered with, and we get right to it.

“I knew something was up when these women got ‘the look’ in their eyes,” Trey says, making air quotes. He sighs, whining as we slug down water, desperately trying to recover from the back-to-back losses we’ve been suffering ever since this game started.

The dark clouds overhead are growing nearer, and it feels like an omen.

“Our team is good,” I tell him but add, “they just happen to be better. They chose the most seasoned players. It was good strategy.”

Trey chuckles beside me. “Yeah, most seasoned, except for Elijah. Anything not to have you, Cap,” he says, still laughing as he jogs back into his position on the pitch.

It’s more than clear based on how these women are leading the game that not only are they all very aware of how to play, but Elise has likely used rugby as a way to further hone their defensive tactics for use in football as well.

I’ll live a lot longer if I learn not to underestimate that woman.

The end of their season can’t come soon enough.

We all get into position on the halfway line, each team's forwards binding together. Our scrum half throws the ball into the middle of the tunnel, and we’re off. Our hookers use their feet to manoeuvre the ball, each team fighting for dominance while simultaneously pushing the other team backward.

As much as my team tries, we fail, to absolutely no one’s surprise.

Jelani takes possession of the ball on their end, and we split off across the field.

My feet carry me as quickly as they can down the pitch, but I’m not fast enough.

Jelani tears by me, passing to Letty, who’s basically the GI Jane of women.

My teammates track her down, encroaching on her as she nears the goal line, but she swivels, throwing the ball to Elise, who jumps up high, gaining even more vertical height thanks to Nakoa, whose hands are digging into her hips as he hoists her in the air.

A primal need to shout at him not to touch her slams into me, but I reel it back in.

She’s not mine to get jealous over. Her arms wrap around the ball, and the moment her feet hit the ground, she’s off, tearing down the field at a breakneck speed.

She’s so fast I practically miss her until she’s past the goal-line, skidding across the turf, pressing the ball into the ground, and securing her team the win.

Her team mauls her, piling on top of her, screaming their heads off, and the fluttering feeling in my gut has absolutely no business being there.

And it’s certainly not from the bright smile she’s wearing that lights up the whole damn pitch through the grey English sky.

Shit, this woman is my personal nightmare.