Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(5)

She has the most f*cking beautiful eyes I have ever seen.

A cheer goes up in the bar, as if we won a real victory today. The sound washes over me as the princess stares back, and I can barely hear it over the rushing of blood in my ears. I don't know why, but it's like I've never seen her before. Hell, this feels like I've never seen a woman before. Every fiber of my body wants her. I take a step toward her without thinking.

Dee scowls at me, but she takes Anastasia by the hand and pulls her out onto the floor as some jackass puts "We Are the Champions" on the jukebox.

I glance at Akele. He grins.



Ana



"They're here."

A cheer goes up as the players walk in. They no longer wear their uniforms, but they're easy enough to pick out. Even the smallest is one of the largest men in the room.

I recognize Jason as he walks in at the back of the procession, flanked by the two biggest men I have ever seen. Jason is well overs six feet, but they tower over even him and are both twice as wide as he is, so much so they go through the door in single file.

My eyes lock on him and I stare dumbly at him. I have never seen a man so handsome in my life. I can just imagine those full lips on mine, touching his massively muscled chest with my hands. His own look big enough to circle around my waist with ease. A flutter of desire in my chest sends a shiver through my body, and I remember the electric tug I felt toward him on the football field.

"Go talk to him," Dee urges.

"Who, me?"

My answer is cut off by more cheering. There is a music machine in the corner, brightly covered in neon lighting. Someone slaps it and it starts playing a song.

"What is that?" I shout at Dee.

"'We Are the Champions.' Queen. If that thing starts playing Loretta Lynne, run."

"Who?"

"Write it down and look it up later," Dee says, sighing.

I'm about to do just that when she grasps my beer and forces me to tip it back until I've chugged it.

My head swims a little, but I am no stranger to drink. Mother started cutting wine into my water at table when I was thirteen. There is always drinking at state dinners, and I have to be able to keep a clear head.

Nevertheless, I stumble a little bit as she pulls me out onto the floor, at the same time shoving another beer into my hand.

"What are we doing?"

"Dancing," she yells.

Dancing seems to consist of grinding up against other people, who have also been drinking this so-called beer. I gulp some down to wet my dry throat and do my best to start dancing.

I have no idea what I'm doing, but no one seems to care.

By the third beer I have begun to enjoy myself. Sweat prickles on my forehead, so I throw my hood back. Dee gives me a sharp look.

My two-foot-long rope of a braid falls down my back. I turn and suddenly find a pair of arms looping around me.

Jason Powell pulls me against him, my chest pressed to his.

"Hello, Princess."

I flinch. Did anyone else hear him?

My eyes travel from his chest up to his face and meet gaze as he looks down on me. The naked lust in his eyes makes my heart pound, but there is something more. Almost a reverence in the way he looks at me, touches me. He pulls me closer still, and the heat of his body soaks into mine. I can feel the ridged muscles of his belly pressed against my stomach, and my hands rest on his sides and start moving on their own, caressing him.

"Did you really think I wouldn't recognize you? Your eyes are incredible. Let me have a look at them."

He reaches for my cheap sunglasses, and I smack his hand away.

"You presume too much," I snap.

"Well excuse me, Princess," he grins, resting his arms on my shoulders.

I sway, caught up in the music. He pulls me closer and looks down at me. I am tall for a woman, but he's taller, towering over me by close to a foot.

"What did you think of the game?"

I swallow, hard. I need another beer. Where's Dee?

"You played well."

"Liar," he says. "We got our asses kicked."

"You won."

"It's not about winning."

"No, it ain't," a big voice booms. "It's about a beautiful death."

I flinch at his words. The giant, one of the two that followed Jason into the bar, looms over us both, hefting in one hand an enormous beer mug so large it must hold a liter or more. He drains half of it in one long pull.

"Don't let him scare you," Jason chides me. "I'll protect you. Besides, Akele here is a cuddlebug. He just likes that woo-woo bullshit."

"Woo-woo?"

"He means philosophy," the giant named Akele thunders. "Jason does not understand the ways of the warrior poet."

"Whatever," Jason says.

I start tugging at my hood. The swimming confusion of the alcohol fades and it dawns on me. He knows who I am.

Jason pushes the hood back down as I fumble to pull it up, but my braid dragging it back down.

"Hey, it's okay. We're all friends here."

The other giant strides up and nods his agreement.

I feel a little surrounded.

"Easy," Jason says, letting his arms fall away from me. "Why don't you come over and sit down with us. Akele, grab Dee, will you?"