her, Faith was overcome with the realization of just how big he was. He wasn’t normal big—he was larger
than any regular person she’d seen in her life.
He must have been six foot five, but he
didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Everything was proportionate to his height, but incredibly muscular,
built like a racehorse. Chase
Winters was clearly built for speed, power, and maximum explosiveness.
The other striking thing about him, were
his tattoos. In all of the posters
and pictures and commercials featuring him—none of them showed the
tattoos that were displayed on his biceps and chest.
The tattoos were intricate, dark, and
forbidding, even though she had difficulty making out exactly what they even
were. There was a skull with
letters over the top of it on his right pectoral, and then a clock face with no
hands, only numbers, over his left pectoral. Around those major tattoos were lots of
smaller, finely detailed drawings and letters and numbers that she couldn’t
make sense of.
“Like what you see?” Chase asked,
smirking as he broke her out of her awe-inspired gawking.
“I—I—I’m just…uh…I’m not sure
what’s going on right now.” Faith
looked around the room. “Isn’t
anyone else coming to the Meet and Greet?”
Chase looked around too, as if he fully
expected a parade to come marching through the room at any moment. Then he shrugged. “Guess not,” he said, and took a sip
from the water bottle, which looked teeny tiny in his hand.
“Oh,” Faith said, her lips feeling numb,
her heart racing. She felt like she
might actually faint, the way those women used to do in old black and white
movies. Only Chase probably
wouldn’t catch her the way the movie stars always did—she figured he’d
let her drop on her head without batting an eyelash.
“You a big football fan?” he asked,
stretching his arms up and then leaning back against the counter, his small
towel riding up his enormous thighs as he watched her.
“Not really.” She tried to smile but couldn’t tell if
it worked.
“No?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. His face was expressive…but his eyes,
Faith decided, were very cold. He
had extremely dark, short hair, long sideburns, and a cleanly shaven, smooth
face. His cheekbones were strong
and angular, and his chin came almost to a point. “You should give the sport a chance,”
Chase said, the smirk still present on his face.
Chase was handsome, gorgeous even. But somehow, standing near him, what she
found herself feeling most was a distinctly unpleasant physical attraction to
his body. It was unpleasant because
it felt dangerous—the way someone might be attracted to skydiving or
mountain climbing or even hard drugs.
Faith had always steered clear of those
kinds of things. She’d never wanted
to play with fire…not until now, anyway.
Everything about him was powerful and
forceful, like standing too close to a hot open flame.
And Faith was truly scared of him.
You’re
scared of everything ,
she reminded herself.
That might have been true, but this time
she could sense that she had good reason to be afraid.
Not just afraid of him as a person—but
afraid of her own immediate attraction to him.
“I’m looking forward to the game today,”
she announced, clearing her throat and looking away from his nearly naked body,
walking closer to the exit and picking up an ornate New England Nationals
figurine that was sitting on a table nearby.
“Me too,” Chase said, his voice following
her, as were his eyes. She could
feel his gaze on her, heavy and solid, like an actual pressure on her body.
She was all too aware of the skirt she’d
worn today, which, given the chilly weather, she’d almost decided against. Now she wished she’d listened to her
instincts and put on jeans or sweats or anything else. And her sweater showed way too much
cleavage.
She’d dressed up nicely because of the
than any regular person she’d seen in her life.
He must have been six foot five, but he
didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Everything was proportionate to his height, but incredibly muscular,
built like a racehorse. Chase
Winters was clearly built for speed, power, and maximum explosiveness.
The other striking thing about him, were
his tattoos. In all of the posters
and pictures and commercials featuring him—none of them showed the
tattoos that were displayed on his biceps and chest.
The tattoos were intricate, dark, and
forbidding, even though she had difficulty making out exactly what they even
were. There was a skull with
letters over the top of it on his right pectoral, and then a clock face with no
hands, only numbers, over his left pectoral. Around those major tattoos were lots of
smaller, finely detailed drawings and letters and numbers that she couldn’t
make sense of.
“Like what you see?” Chase asked,
smirking as he broke her out of her awe-inspired gawking.
“I—I—I’m just…uh…I’m not sure
what’s going on right now.” Faith
looked around the room. “Isn’t
anyone else coming to the Meet and Greet?”
Chase looked around too, as if he fully
expected a parade to come marching through the room at any moment. Then he shrugged. “Guess not,” he said, and took a sip
from the water bottle, which looked teeny tiny in his hand.
“Oh,” Faith said, her lips feeling numb,
her heart racing. She felt like she
might actually faint, the way those women used to do in old black and white
movies. Only Chase probably
wouldn’t catch her the way the movie stars always did—she figured he’d
let her drop on her head without batting an eyelash.
“You a big football fan?” he asked,
stretching his arms up and then leaning back against the counter, his small
towel riding up his enormous thighs as he watched her.
“Not really.” She tried to smile but couldn’t tell if
it worked.
“No?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. His face was expressive…but his eyes,
Faith decided, were very cold. He
had extremely dark, short hair, long sideburns, and a cleanly shaven, smooth
face. His cheekbones were strong
and angular, and his chin came almost to a point. “You should give the sport a chance,”
Chase said, the smirk still present on his face.
Chase was handsome, gorgeous even. But somehow, standing near him, what she
found herself feeling most was a distinctly unpleasant physical attraction to
his body. It was unpleasant because
it felt dangerous—the way someone might be attracted to skydiving or
mountain climbing or even hard drugs.
Faith had always steered clear of those
kinds of things. She’d never wanted
to play with fire…not until now, anyway.
Everything about him was powerful and
forceful, like standing too close to a hot open flame.
And Faith was truly scared of him.
You’re
scared of everything ,
she reminded herself.
That might have been true, but this time
she could sense that she had good reason to be afraid.
Not just afraid of him as a person—but
afraid of her own immediate attraction to him.
“I’m looking forward to the game today,”
she announced, clearing her throat and looking away from his nearly naked body,
walking closer to the exit and picking up an ornate New England Nationals
figurine that was sitting on a table nearby.
“Me too,” Chase said, his voice following
her, as were his eyes. She could
feel his gaze on her, heavy and solid, like an actual pressure on her body.
She was all too aware of the skirt she’d
worn today, which, given the chilly weather, she’d almost decided against. Now she wished she’d listened to her
instincts and put on jeans or sweats or anything else. And her sweater showed way too much
cleavage.
She’d dressed up nicely because of the
Similar Books
