Page 76 of Sticks and Stones (Shadow Valley U)

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The girls—Wrenand her new waitress friend—wait for us in the atrium outside the locker room with some others.

Our team pulled off the win, six to three. I’ve been bestowed with a gold Burger King crown, courtesy of the guys for my hat trick. Evan scored one, and I have no idea who scored the other two.

A win is a win. Another saying my old coach had. No matter if it’s by one or by five, you stay fucking humble.

So when the congratulations pour in from the fans, aka college girls wanting to get in our pants, I shrug it off.

I’ve only got eyes for Wren and the blasted jersey she’s wearing anyway.

When I finally get up next to her, she barely looks at me.

Game on.

I run my knuckles up her arm, across her shoulder and under her hair. She shivers when I grip the back of her neck lightly.

“Excuse us,” I interrupt Abby. Ally. Whatever her name is.

She frowns at me. Wren does, too. But I ignore both and use the pressure on Wren’s neck to steer her away from the crowd.

“Stone—”

“Don’t talk.”

We round the corner, and I yank open the first door I see. Storage closet.

Whatever.

I push Wren in ahead of me and close us in, flipping the lock with my free hand. She clicks the light on, a single bulb over our heads. It buzzes a little, angry with disuse.

“Listen…” She sounds nervous. There’s a flutter in her voice that wasn’t there before. That’s not usually there. She licks her lips. “You seem mad.”

“That was your intention, wasn’t it?”

I’m glad I ditched the cup in my pants as soon as I got back to the locker room. My hair is damp, but I’m clean. I changed into a t-shirt, sweatshirt, and jeans. And now, my cock is stiffening in my pants before we’ve even done anything.

Pure anticipation.

Because I thought about how I might like to make Wren Davis pay me back, and there’s only one acceptable answer.

I step forward, and she goes backward. A game of cat and mouse in a tight cage. It doesn’t take long to trap her against the back wall, kicking aside a mop bucket and cleaning supplies.

“Wasn’t it, baby?”

She swallows…then nods.

I grasp her hips. She makes a noise in the back of her throat, but she doesn’t stop me from running my fingers up under the hem of Archer’s jersey. I push it up, up, up. Exposing her pale stomach and the cropped tank she put on under it. Over her breasts, barely concealed by the thin top and her lacy bra, until I get it over her head. I throw it toward the mop bucket, smirking at the splash of it hitting dirty water.

“No girl of mine is going to wear another guy’s jersey,” I say quietly. I run my finger across her collarbone.

“Well, the good news is—I’m not your girl.”

I stop.

She stares at me with wide eyes. I’m casting her in shadow like this, blocking out the pretty green and brown of her eyes.

“You’re mine, Wren Davis. What more do I need to do to prove it? Fuck you in front of Evan? Get my name tattooed on your skin?” I cup her jaw, forcing her head up. “Or your name on me? Now that sounds tempting…”