Page 56 of Studs Up
When we got back to the hotel room, I could hold him and make sure he was okay. But that was hours away, and every minute that passed that I couldn’t check on him fueled my anger, and when the opportunity to clash with Ennis came during a corner, I exercised all of that fury. We didn’t battle for the ball but for field dominance.
He threw an elbow into my side. Pain shot through me. My ribs screamed, and my lungs wouldn’t let me suck in air. I’ve had a lot of injuries, but none to my ribs like this. His bone had to be made of steel. The pain was intense, and my vision hazed, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me. I bodied him off the ball until he was rolling on the ground like a fucking baby.
I had to stop for a minute to breathe. At minimum, there would be a bruise, probably a big one. The training staff waited on the touchline to be called onto the field to check on me. I waved them off and pretended nothing was wrong. If I had a broken rib, they would take me off. Charlemagne was a great defender, and Chase Dixon was a great backup, but neither of them would be able to handle Ennis, and neither of them would be as protective of Holden as I was. I was staying on the field.
“Stay away from my fucking players,” I hissed over him. I wanted to hit him. Make sure he never came for Holden again.
“Why the fuck do you care?” He grunted back. Because Holden was mine. I was selfish and possessive, and I wasn’t going to tolerate putting his career on the line because of a reckless piece of shit.
Ennis got on his feet and stormed me. I didn’t budge. He got right in my face with dark, furious eyes and tight tendons in his neck. He pushed me, but I refused to move despite the pain it caused.
“You’re gonna hurt someone, and it isn’t going to be one of mine,” I sneered.
“Awful rich coming from the beast,” he snorted.
“Get fucked, Ennis,” I shoved Ennis back. Charlemagne appeared and came between us again.
“Back it up.” He directed his body to Ennis, but he was talking to both of us.
When I turned around the ref was in my face holding up a yellow card.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I demanded. There was no way on this fucking planet or any other, that tackle was a yellow. Foul, yes, and I’d take that. Yellow, absolutely not.
“Keep talking, and I’ll make it a red,” he said cooly. Some of the egos on these guys.
I held my side with my arm and waved off the training staff again. I didn’t need attention. I needed the game to be over.
I caught Holden’s eye as I stalked off, and a flash of concern passed over him and then vanished. His well rehearsed protection fell back into place.
Two minutes later, Holden scored off of a free kick. A perfect header right into the net. He celebrated with the fans and the team, and when his eyes met mine, he turned the darkest shade of red.
“Let’s hope that’s the winner,” I said when I made my obligatory congratulations. He didn’t say anything. But I was pretty sure he didn’t want to risk anyone else getting a goal on either side because, before the final whistle, he scored again.
Again, he turned a deep crimson. I’d like to think that I was using my powers of seduction for good.
My ribs ached for the rest of the game, and it was hard to take full breaths, but I powered through. When the whistle came, I dropped to the ground and sat next to Morales.
“Dead?” He asked, catching his breath.
“Almost,” I said and winced, poking my wound.
The trainers chewed me out for not getting looked at on the field. When I glared at them they gave up and deemed I would survive my injury and released me for a cool down and a shower.
Holden gave a press conference. Better him than me. But it meant it took forever for the trainers to check him out and send him to cool down.
The longer it took, the more irritated I became. Even Marcel noticed and finally left me alone. All I wanted was Holden in bed, naked and writhing. I was probably going to suck him anyway but watching him play with that kind of motivation was one of the hottest things I had ever seen.
He was the last one to get on the bus, and everyone cheered. I couldn’t move. I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if I did.
I watched the city out the window and refused to even look Holden’s direction. He enjoyed the attention from the team around him. The season was shaping up to be his best yet. All the things I saw in him were being noticed and appreciated by the national team and his home team.
Without the distraction of the game, my sole focus was on him. My blood pounded, demanding I touch him.
Unloading at the hotel took forever. People milled around wanting to go out for a late dinner or a drink, all of them wanting to buy Holden a beer. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he went, he should celebrate, but I silently screamed at him to get his ass up to the room.
Instead of waiting around to find out if he was going to take them up on the offers, I rejected offers of my own and headed straight for the elevator. Just before the doors closed, I caught a glimpse of him. Smiling and laughing with Alex and Morales.
What does one do when waiting for their lover to show up? I didn’t need a shower, and I had too much energy to sit and wait. So I ended up standing in the middle of the room.
