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“Besides,” I gave him a cheeky grin when he glanced over at me, “I like staring at your ass while you grill.”

His shoulders went rigid. If I hadn’t spent the last ten months learning every tiny shift in his body, I probably would’ve missed it. That was the fun part. Rhodes could pretend I wasn’t getting to him all he wanted, but his body proved he was a terrible liar.

“Careful, Theo,” Rhodes warned under his breath. “You’re playing with fire.”

The low edge in his voice sent heat straight through me. I pushed away from the little brick wall and wandered closer, pretending my sudden interest had something to do with the burgers. Rhodes tracked me from the corner of his eye as I stopped beside him, close enough that reaching for a plate gave me an excuse to lean into his space—close enough to be dangerous, but not close enough for anyone across the yard to think twice.

“Oh, Coach,” I whispered and leaned in close as I passed, tempting the attention of others. “I thought we established that I like the pain.”

His hand tightened around the spatula.

“God damn it, Theo,” he muttered.

I kept walking without another word. Yeah, totally worth it.

I wandered away as the excitement of the party wore off. That wasn’t unusual for me. I liked parties with my friends, and I liked being right in the middle of the stupidity when everyone was laughing and talking over each other. But eventually, the noise always became too much, and my social battery died.

Under normal circumstances, I would’ve found an empty porch or disappeared back to my room alone. This time, however, I found myself meandering through Rhodes’ room. I kept the light off, leaving the room illuminated only by the glow filtering through the windows from the backyard lighting. With half the team downstairs, getting caught snooping around our coach’s bedroom probably wasn’t something I wanted to explain.

Was it really snooping if I’d been in here more times than I could count?

He'd gotten rid of almost all the ridiculous safari shit the owners had left behind. The dresser that had once been covered in useless decorations now held the few things he’d brought with him from Florida. Among them was a tiny brass rocket figurine. I picked it up carefully. I’d always liked that thing. Rhodes had once mentioned that it was lucky and that he took it with him whenever he traveled, which immediately created a handful of questions he’d refused to answer.

Rhodes was good at that. He’d hand me one small piece of himself and then slam the door before I could learn more. Sometimes he’d tell me a story and stop right before the part that explained why it mattered.

Maybe that was all our relationship had ever allowed. Hookups didn’t come with stories and depth. Whatever undefined thing we’d spent the last ten months doing probably didn’t earn me access to the pieces of Rhodes he guarded carefully.

Still, I wished it did.

“What are you doing in here?” Rhodes’ voice cut through the quiet. I startled and turned to find him standing in the doorway. I set the rocket down and plastered on the easiest smile I could manage. Play the game. Win him back. That was still the goal.

“Oh, you know.” I shrugged like being alone in his bedroom was completely normal. Or a big deal that I could count no less than five places in the room he’d fucked me.

Rhodes didn’t smile.

“You don’t belong in here,” he told me as he stepped further into the room. “It’s private.”

The word private stung more than it should have, but I covered the reaction before he could see it. At least I hoped I did.

“Oh, come on, Coach,” I teased, starting past him. I walked closer than necessary and grinned wider as I did. “It’s not like we both don’t remember what you did to me in this room.”

That did it.

His hand shot out and grabbed me by the neck. My breath hitched as every playful thought in my head disappeared at once. I instantly gave in as he pushed me until my back was against the wall. His palm rested against my throat, and my pulse beat wildly beneath it while he stepped into my space. One hand remained against me while the other braced against the wall beside my head, boxing me in without actually trapping me.

He didn’t need to. We both knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

Rhodes’ hand around my throat would forever be my favorite thing. He didn’t have to be rough for it to do something wicked to me. His possessive hold made my dick hard every time. I craved it—needed it more than the breath he threatened to cut off.

His eyes searched mine, dark and frustrated. Underneath that, however, was a hunger that immediately betrayed every conversation we’d had about being finished.

“Theo,” he warned with that edge in his voice that I enjoyed far too much. The warning should’ve worked, but it sent heat curling low through me. He had to know by now the effect his warnings had on me.

“Rhodes,” I rasped around his hand.

He took his time answering, and I clocked how his jaw ticked as I tempted his restraint.

“You have to stop.”