“Take that fucking jersey off now,” he tells me. “Come take it off.” “I’m going to kill Beckford,” he says as he takes a few big strides toward me. He’s rough as he grabs it by the collar and brings his mouth to mine. His kiss is all consuming, and I’m nearly breathless as he heaves the jersey over my head. His irritation is even worse when he sees the shirt underneath is Mikael’s number.
