Page 383 of Faking the Goal

Kentaro does not give a single fuck.

If anything, the asshole kisses me harder.

I laugh against his mouth, my arms tightening around his neck. "Ken-chan," I mumble between kisses. "People are watching."

"Let them."

Another kiss.

"You have no idea—" he says, voice muffled against my lips, "—how impossible it is to play a whole fucking game with you watching me while wearing my jersey. My name on your back—" His tongue flicks against my teeth, and I whimper, actually whimper, as his fingers dig into my waist. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. Couldn't fucking stop—" Another kiss, this one slower but somehow even more intense. "The whole time, all I wanted was—" His forehead presses against mine, and when his eyes open again, his pupils have dilated until they nearly swallow the honey-brown in his irises. "—to bend you over the bench and make you scream my name so loud as I fuck you...hard."

My face combusts. I slap a hand over my mouth even as a high, panicked giggle escapes me. "Ken-chan! There are, like, people—" I don't even finish because his hands are already under my ass, lifting me half off the ground.

He flashes me a wicked grin. "I don't give a fuck," he murmurs before his mouth drops to my throat, nipping at the spot where my pulse is going absolutely berserk. "You screamed my name for three periods, Trouble. Might as well give them an encore."

I smack his shoulder, which accomplishes precisely nothing. "I'm going to die. I'm literally going to die."

He laughs, kisses my forehead, then my cheek, before finding my mouth again with a long, slow kiss that turns my knees into overcooked ramen. "You love it," he murmurs against my lips. "You're just as bad as me."

And it's true, I am.

Because underneath all the embarrassment, I'm secretly glowing like an idiot over how badly this man wants me. And considering the absolutely criminal thoughts I spent most of the championship having about him, I have exactly zero room to judge.

I tangle my hands in his hair and pull him down for another bruising kiss, and when he moans, my whole body shudders in delight. I'm so gone for him it's not even funny.

"Ugh. Jesus Christ."

We break apart to find Liam, Luke, and Cody walking past us wearing matching expressions of disgust that would be far more convincing if all three assholes weren't grinning.

Liam clutches his stomach dramatically. "I feel like we're intruding on something that requires a locked door and possibly a warning sign. Can you two stop salivating on each other for five fucking minutes? Some of us are trying to enjoy our championship without vomiting."

"Then stop watching," Kentaro says, his arm still firmly around my waist.

That only makes the three of them grin wider.

Luke points at him. "See? This. This is fucking weird."

Kentaro arches a brow. "What is?"

"You." Luke gestures at all of him. "Whatever the hell happened to you. I expected this shit from Zach. Elijah, absolutely. Those two were always doomed. But you?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Kentaro asks, chuckling.

Cody answers immediately.

"You're a simp."

The three of them lose it.

Kentaro just looks at them with the unimpressed expression of a man who has spent several years questioning why these people are his friends.

I, however, gasp dramatically. "Excuse you. He's my simp."

Kentaro looks down at me. "Don't encourage them."

"Too late."

Liam throws an arm around Luke's shoulders and releases the most tragic sigh I have ever heard from another human being. "And then there were three."