Page 39 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

He cuts me off. “Say you wouldn’t let me kiss you right now. No cameras. Just us.”

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.

He tips my chin up. “That’s what I thought.”

Ryan’s hand finds my waist, cupping it and guiding my body. I lift my face. His mouth brushes mine. A whisper of heat. I shiver as he chuckles and then kisses me for real—his lipspressing against mine, his mouth opening, tongue seeking my own. I gasp. He catches the sound with his kiss. In that moment, everything else vanishes. His hands explore me, pulling me close, his body heat soaking through my skirt, his mouth devouring me like a starving beast.

I melt. Instantly. All my protests simply vanish.

I kiss him back like I’ve never kissed anyone before. In truth, I’ve never experienced a kiss like this. None of those clumsy, fumbling kisses exist anymore. He leans in further, pressing a knee between my legs. I can feel his arousal through his pants. His hand leaves the wall to brush my thigh as he continues exploring my mouth.

His tongue strokes mine tenderly, while his hand sneaks up my short skirt until his fingers are teasing the outside of my underwear. I’m already wet for him. He growls into my mouth, “You sweet little thing, always pretending to hate me.”

His teeth graze my lower lip and I gasp, as if trying to trap him in my lungs.

“You don’t hate me, though, do you?” he murmurs.

“That’s not true,” I whisper back against his lips. “I do hate you.”

He laughs. “Then why are you so wet for me?”

My hands bury themselves in his shirt. I know I should stop, that I should push him away, but instead, I yank him closer.

“You think I’m the only one who enjoys this?” I murmur as my hand slips between our bodies and finds the erection hidden under his pants.

He’s hard, big and long and thick. Just like I remember him. Fuck, I’m horny.

“Oh honey, I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a long time now,” he murmurs. His mouth finds mine again, this time deeper and hungrier. I want it. I want him to devour me.

A scuffling noise breaks through the haze of lust.

Then a voice cuts through, sharp and furious.

“What the hell?”

Rich. Ryan’s coach.

We spring apart like guilty teenagers caught making out under the bleachers. My heart drops into my stomach. Ryan’s chest is still rising and falling hard. My lipstick is probably smeared halfway across my face. His clothes are rumpled. Mine too.

“Save it for the damn cameras,” Rich barks. “Jesus, you think we’re paying you to sneak off and hook up like horny high schoolers?”

My face burns. “We weren’t… this wasn’t… nothing happened. Rich, I swear.”

Ryan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, looking equal parts dazed and pissed.

“It was just a conversation,” he says finally, voice rough.

Rich glares at both of us like he wants to murder us and then salt the earth.

“You walked far enough away that your mic packs went out of range. There’s no usable audio. You just wasted a gold moment.”

My mouth opens, but I’ve got nothing. No defense. No way to spin this. I mumble, “I’m sorry.”

Rich yanks the back door open and holds it like he’s daring us not to walk through it.

Ryan glances at me, then licks his teeth and nods toward the door. His breath is still uneven, his hands clenched at his sides.

We don’t say another word.