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most wouldn’t dream of following.
    But he wasn’t good-looking. His nose had been busted twice and probably would be again before long. He had scars aplenty and his left ear had to be syringed to remove the swelling on a regular basis or it began to resemble a cauliflower. He wasn’t good with the words like some of the guys, and he couldn’t sing. In fact, he sang like a duck with a cold, even making himself wince when he forgot and decided to belt out a tune in the shower.
    But rugby, that was something he could do. On the pitch just before a match, gum shield in hand and fingers taped together because he had a tendency to break them, he felt invincible. Like he could take on an army and win. He felt like a god, and he wanted her to see him that way.
    She shook her head and disappointment crashed through him. She hadn’t seen him in all his glory, doing what he loved.
    “What, never?” Disbelief colored his voice as the limo turned a corner. “You’re telling me that your brother is an international star and you’ve never seen him play?”
    Her cheeks were scarlet as she looked away. “I had other commitments that I couldn’t get out of.”
    He knew the reason. Her ex. The wanker who’d taken all the glory and got her fired. Self-centered bastard like that wouldn’t give a moment’s thought to someone else. Or their family.
    “Yeah, well. You should. He’s a damn good player, one of the best I’ve ever seen. Coach says he’ll go a long way if he can keep off the injury bench.”
    “You know Damon. Like a bull in a china shop most of the time,” she said, turning to look at him quizzically. “So the coach said that just Damon will go a long way. What about you? From what I hear you’re quite the rising star yourself.”
    Pleasure surged through him at her words, but he hid it under a nonchalant shrug. He was good, he knew that, but he didn’t like to be arrogant about it. There were way too many players totally up their own asses as it was. The game didn’t need another one.
    “If I play my cards right. Work hard. Nothing worth having comes easily.”
    “Typical Leighton. Always so serious. You know, I never thought you’d crack a smile as a kid. You need to cut loose sometimes, and have a little fun.” She reached out to wind a strand of his hair, loose since his conversation with Damon in the men’s toilets, around her finger. “I love your hair, always have.”
    “Is that right? You think I need to cut loose. Why, do you think I’m boring?” Within a heartbeat the mood in the taxi changed from light and teasing to dark and dangerous. The air was heavy, throbbing with awareness and sensual tension to the beat of the blood surging through the thick hard-on in his trousers. Temptation teased and taunted him until he couldn’t stand it. He was serious, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to have fun. Or want to have a little fun, of the horizontal kind, with her. “I’ll show you how boring I am.”
    Twisting, he pulled her half under him on the seat suddenly, her chestnut hair fanning out over the cream leather like a dark halo. She gasped, surprised by his sudden move, but then he was leaning over her, hand planted on the seat next to her head to brace himself as he fought for self-control. All he wanted to do was push her knee-length skirt up to her waist, tear off whatever scraps of fabric she’d chosen as lingerie, and bury himself balls deep inside her.
    The descent of his lips to hers was slow, his gaze on hers all the way as he let her see the heat and need warring for dominance inside him.
    This time when his lips claimed hers there was no gentle exploration; his desire for her was too great. Instead he took her lips with raw power and need; feral and sensual like an alpha male claiming his woman.
    She melted under him, her body pliant under his hands as he gave in and ran one up the slender length of her thigh. Pushing the skirt up, he lifted her leg, pulling it over his