Chapter 4

I let Christian tug me away, obviously realizing that I can’t do it myself, throwing a casual wave and smile and acting as he owns me as Arrick watches me go. Throwing me one last look as our eyes connect, and for a mere second, I swear I catch a hint of raw unguarded regret and a subtle sigh. Arrick looks hurt, maybe. His eyes lose focus on me, his brows dip for a moment as he frowns and seems to lose that façade momentarily, a slight sag in his posture, but then it’s gone, and I’m being ushered out of the restaurant by Christian, and into the afternoon sun and fresh zingy air.

“He’s far sexier in person. Damn, I would tap that ass if he played for my field.” Christian cuts into my thoughts of imprinting Arrick’s voice and face to memory, whether I want to or not, placing a hand over his heart dramatically.

“You better cut that out if you’re still trying to convince him I’m your bitch, Chris. You’re looking decidedly camp right now.” I throw him an eyebrow lift, and he