Once Upon a Player (British Bad Boys) by Christina Phillips

Author:Christina Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Entangled, NA, NA Romance, new adult, british, bad boy, rugby, sports romance, romance, friends to lover, player reformed, rom com, romantic comedy
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Embrace)
Published: 2018-06-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Lucas

Whoa. Violet stands in the doorway, wearing my T-shirt, her damp hair framing her face. Something weird and hot twists deep inside my chest. She looks innocent and sweet, and so fucking sexy it takes all my willpower to keep my feet planted on the floor and not stride over and sweep her into my arms.

She’s not the first girl I’ve loaned a shirt to, but she’s the first who’s managed to scramble my brain in the process.

“Nice top,” she says, and strokes her hand over her breast. My dick stands to attention, and I make a primitive grunting sound because what? “Love the dragon.”

The dragon. Right. I suck in oxygen to restart my brain. Wanker. “Thought you’d like it. Do you want pancakes?”

Jesus, I’m usually better at changing the subject than that.

“You’re making pancakes?” She sounds amazed that I know my way around a kitchen. “Do you want some help?”

“Sure.” She strolls toward me, and I watch her as though she might vanish if I take my eyes off her for a second. Get your fucking shit together, Carter. I force my legs to move, and I place the eggs and milk on the worktop. “What topping do you like? I’ve chocolate and fruits.” I’ve also a goddamn hard-on.

“I’m strictly a lemon and sugar girl when it comes to pancakes.”

“Works for me.” I sift the flour into a large glass bowl, and Violet watches me as though it’s the most fascinating thing ever.

“You’re doing it by hand?”

“It’s the only way to do it.”

“I’m impressed. I use an electric whisk.”

“Slacker.”

She gives a little hum of laughter which is crazily arousing. I focus on cracking eggs like it’s a penalty shoot-out.

“What do you want me to do, then?”

Babe, the things I want you to do…

I swallow, refocus, and forget her damn question. “What?”

“Since you don’t need my help with the whole pancake thing. Shall I make coffee?”

“Yep. Great. Everything’s over there.” I give a vague wave with my fork, and she gives me the sweetest smile before sorting out the coffee machine.

“Are we eating here, or at the table?”

“How about on the balcony?”

“That sounds good.”

She finds a tray and then hunts down cutlery and cups before slicing a couple of lemons. I toss a pancake and then shoot her a sideways glance. It’s fun and also kind of surreal having Violet in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, while I cook us breakfast.

“Ready?” I grin at her, because she’s so bloody hot, and place the warm plates stacked with pancakes onto the tray while she pours the coffee.

“Sure am.”

There’s a great view of Hampstead Heath from the balcony, and after we set everything down on the table, I can’t resist any longer and lean in close to kiss her.

“Mm.” She blushes and for some reason looks vaguely uncomfortable. “I forgot the milk. I won’t be a minute.”

She disappears back inside. She’s not running because I kissed her, is she? Fuck it, did seeing that prick last night rake up all her

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