Playing with the Prop: (Rugby erotic romance)(Strathstow Sharks) by Mina Carter Page B
Authors: Mina Carter
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would have knocked a lesser man out. Her chest tightened, easing slightly when he sat up.
He didn’t get to his feet though, instead he dropped to the ground, lifting his leg and grabbing his foot.
Cramp .
Before she could think, Ashley had her bag in hand and ran across the pitch, weaving between the running players. When she’d first started working with the team, running out in the middle of play had freaked her out. The guys, even the smaller ones, were huge and fast as all hell. But she’d learned to read the pitch, and these days it was second nature to avoid getting squashed.
She made it to his side in record time. Her knees hit the grass, her kit at her side, and she fit her shoulder under his raised ankle. Hands replacing his on his foot, she stretched his calf out.
“Hey, James.” She smiled at him. “The usual, handsome?”
The relief that flittered over his face when he saw her fed her ego. She’d struggled to get accepted by the players at first. They’d seen her gender first and her abilities second, and she usually had to play the same game with new players until they realised she was damn good at her job. But not Harry James. He’d taken one look at her and nodded, the same little smile on his face that curved his lips now.
“Hey, sweet stuff. Yeah, bastard thing locked up right in the middle of the ruck. About brained a Saint with my boot flailing about like a muppet.”
She nodded and leaned into him, using her weight to stretch the leg out more. A big guy, he often had trouble with his calves, more so than any of the other players. It felt like she always had her hands on his legs. Not that she was complaining. He had great legs. Just a pity she couldn’t get her hands on the rest of him.
Not letting a hint of her inappropriate thoughts show on her face, she massaged the back of his leg. Shit, his calves were solid.
“Hard as granite here.” A frown creased her brow, and she flicked a glance over the rest of him. His shirt was already mud-stained, and the side of his head was blue where he’d rolled over the advertising painted on the turf mid-field, but apart from a darkening bruise over one cheek, she couldn’t see any other damage.
“Not all that’s hard, sexy.”
“I’m sorry?” She blinked, unsure she’d heard what she thought she had.
His voice was deep and low, and the roar of the crowd as a try was scored the other end of the pitch almost drowned it out. She looked up and caught his gaze. The normal amusement lurked in his hazel eyes, but interest hid behind it. Butterflies hit her stomach at light speed, a frantic, delicious fluttering that woke everything feminine inside her. Crap, did he… Was he?
“Never be sorry, not with me.”
Pulling his leg free from her grasp, he dropped it to the ground, big boot hitting the turf next to her feet. He sat up, thighs either side of hers, and she realised she’d been caught. The smile slipped from his face, so close to hers, as he gazed deep into her eyes. Up this close, he was almost overwhelming, but not in a threatening way. Instead, even as muddy and wet as he was, she had the urge to get closer, to wrap herself around all those hard muscles.
“Just a try behind now.” Lifting a hand, he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “If we win, do I get a kiss?”
Her heart stuttered, both at the gentle touch and the words. The butterflies burst into overdrive, alternating between doing a wall of death around her stomach and sending shivers over her skin.
“Think about it, eh?” He smiled, rolled away, and bound to his feet, then held a hand out to help her up. “We’ll be out tonight... Symphonies in town. Come and find us. Find me? It’s my birthday as well, you can help me celebrate. Perhaps see you there?”
With that, he winked and ran off to re-join play, leaving her wondering what the hell had just happened.
***
“ Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear
He didn’t get to his feet though, instead he dropped to the ground, lifting his leg and grabbing his foot.
Cramp .
Before she could think, Ashley had her bag in hand and ran across the pitch, weaving between the running players. When she’d first started working with the team, running out in the middle of play had freaked her out. The guys, even the smaller ones, were huge and fast as all hell. But she’d learned to read the pitch, and these days it was second nature to avoid getting squashed.
She made it to his side in record time. Her knees hit the grass, her kit at her side, and she fit her shoulder under his raised ankle. Hands replacing his on his foot, she stretched his calf out.
“Hey, James.” She smiled at him. “The usual, handsome?”
The relief that flittered over his face when he saw her fed her ego. She’d struggled to get accepted by the players at first. They’d seen her gender first and her abilities second, and she usually had to play the same game with new players until they realised she was damn good at her job. But not Harry James. He’d taken one look at her and nodded, the same little smile on his face that curved his lips now.
“Hey, sweet stuff. Yeah, bastard thing locked up right in the middle of the ruck. About brained a Saint with my boot flailing about like a muppet.”
She nodded and leaned into him, using her weight to stretch the leg out more. A big guy, he often had trouble with his calves, more so than any of the other players. It felt like she always had her hands on his legs. Not that she was complaining. He had great legs. Just a pity she couldn’t get her hands on the rest of him.
Not letting a hint of her inappropriate thoughts show on her face, she massaged the back of his leg. Shit, his calves were solid.
“Hard as granite here.” A frown creased her brow, and she flicked a glance over the rest of him. His shirt was already mud-stained, and the side of his head was blue where he’d rolled over the advertising painted on the turf mid-field, but apart from a darkening bruise over one cheek, she couldn’t see any other damage.
“Not all that’s hard, sexy.”
“I’m sorry?” She blinked, unsure she’d heard what she thought she had.
His voice was deep and low, and the roar of the crowd as a try was scored the other end of the pitch almost drowned it out. She looked up and caught his gaze. The normal amusement lurked in his hazel eyes, but interest hid behind it. Butterflies hit her stomach at light speed, a frantic, delicious fluttering that woke everything feminine inside her. Crap, did he… Was he?
“Never be sorry, not with me.”
Pulling his leg free from her grasp, he dropped it to the ground, big boot hitting the turf next to her feet. He sat up, thighs either side of hers, and she realised she’d been caught. The smile slipped from his face, so close to hers, as he gazed deep into her eyes. Up this close, he was almost overwhelming, but not in a threatening way. Instead, even as muddy and wet as he was, she had the urge to get closer, to wrap herself around all those hard muscles.
“Just a try behind now.” Lifting a hand, he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “If we win, do I get a kiss?”
Her heart stuttered, both at the gentle touch and the words. The butterflies burst into overdrive, alternating between doing a wall of death around her stomach and sending shivers over her skin.
“Think about it, eh?” He smiled, rolled away, and bound to his feet, then held a hand out to help her up. “We’ll be out tonight... Symphonies in town. Come and find us. Find me? It’s my birthday as well, you can help me celebrate. Perhaps see you there?”
With that, he winked and ran off to re-join play, leaving her wondering what the hell had just happened.
***
“ Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear
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