His Best Nightmare

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I stood silently in the back of the room as Kal and Justin continued to answer some of the reporters questions about the upcoming game.

The championship was in three days.

We had landed in Madrid two days ago, and we'd all been hitting the ground running.

I was constantly responding back to social media and e-mails, and calls, pushing the great press on Kal and how he was about to lead his team to victory.

It'd been non-stop, interview after interview, straight to practices, then to even more conditioning in a gym, before we would silently make our way to our separate rooms without a word to each other.

I tried to ignore the sounds of him opening his door a few hours later, and Lily's soft voice welcoming him.

We hadn't had a real conversation since that morning in my hotel room.

After we'd landed in London, I had left him to find an uber to take me to a hotel, Dorthy delivered my left over luggage from his house a few hours later.

I hadn't even looked at him as I had boarded the plane here to Madrid, hadn't wanted to, knowing that Lily was already seated comfortably at his side.

It was like a block of ice had been pushed between us, and neither one of us was willing to make the first move.

I nodded as Justin looked over at me, putting up my hand to show him they only had five more minutes and then I'd call the interview.

I leaded into the wall behind me, watching as reporters continued to pound Kal and Justin with more and more questions.

"I hate these things too" a deep voice whispered from beside me, jolting me back to awareness.

I blinked as I turned to look at the giant of a man who stood beside me, his body leaned against the wall as he face me, nearly swallowing all sight of me, he was so large.

He had muscle packed on, much thicker than Justin, and he was nearly as tall as Kal.

Tattoos of flames licked up his neck, to meet a rugged beard. His lips cracked into a self amused smirk, his dark green eyes popping against the warm honey tone of his skin. His hair was brown at the roots, but he had the tips dyed a platinum blond that was spiked to the side.

He looked like a complete bad boy, dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket.

His voice had been thickly coated in a Spanish accent, which only increased the attractiveness of this guy.

I blinked again, trying to desperately figure out how he'd gotten so close and I hadn't noticed, the heat of his body was warming my own.

His eyes slid down the length of the dark brown dress I had on, it clung to my body and was sleeveless, matched with a pair of nude heels.

I'd left my blazer, which I felt was a mistake from the way his eyes lingered on my chest.

"What?" I mumbled, watching as his eyes took their time to reach my own.

His smirk grew, "I hate these things too" he nodded towards the crowd of reporters, as he chuckled, "you look like you're dying of boredom" he added.

I choked out a small laugh, "not a huge sports fan" I shrug, "so none of this is really keeping my interest" I laugh lightly.

He was hideously attractive, a bad boy vibe down to his toes, but the way he was looking at me made me feel like prey and he was the predator.

Like he knew something I didn't, which made me stand up straighter.