The Striker (Gods of the Game, #1)

by Ana Huang

“What are your plans for the day?” I asked, taking what I hoped was a casual sip of tea. “Hanging out with you,” Asher said easily. “If you want me to, of course.” Oh, he was good. Not only that, he was genuine, which made it that much worse for my poor heart.

I want to hold my grandbabies before I die. Does he listen? No.” She clucked her tongue. “So you can imagine how delighted I am that you’re here. Tell me, how did you meet Asher? Do you have a boyfriend? Are you interested in children anytime soon?”

LMAO

If my mother hadn’t been picturing her as her future daughter-in-law before, she sure was now. I could practically see stars pop up in her eyes as she envisioned what her future grandbabies would look like.

So tell me, Dad. At the end of the day, if you had to choose, who will it be? Your team or your son?” I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t lose my temper. But my words reverberated through the air with an intensity that caused my father’s face to flush. Crimson washed over his skin like blood seeping into snow. The heart monitor’s beeps increased in frequency until they blended into a stream of noise instead of disparate sounds. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. We both knew what his answer was.

“She’s probably imagining little Lamarr clones running around her back garden right now.” I huffed out a laugh even as my heart tripped at the thought of having babies with him. It was way too early to think about that considering we hadn’t even clarified our relationship status yet, but for the briefest of moments, I allowed myself to indulge in the fantasy. The prospect of marriage and children with Asher wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be, which was worrisome in and of itself. We’d had sex once. I was not going to be the person who started planning her wedding in a state of orgasm-fueled delusion, so I shoved the image of little green-eyed babies to the back of my mind as he showed me the house.

“The whole country, maybe even the whole world, has certain expectations of Asher Donovan—how I should play, who I should date, where I should fucking holiday. I can deal with that. It’s what I signed up for. But I’d like a place, just one, where I don’t have to be on guard. I thought family would be that place. But it isn’t.”

“If it makes you feel better,” I said. “I prefer Asher to Asher Donovan.” The former was a person; the latter was a brand. I was indifferent about the brand, but I liked the person. A lot. More than I should.

That morning, he said he liked seeing the unguarded version of me. The reverse was also true. This was the Asher the world didn’t get to see. The raw, vulnerable one who hurt and felt like everyone else.

The last time we shared a bed, we’d had sex, but this was a different type of intimacy. Gentler, less tangible but no less important, and rooted in fragile, blossoming trust. Asher tore his eyes away from mine and faced forward again. But when our hands grazed on the bed, I didn’t pull away, and when I curled my pinky around his, he squeezed mine in return. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Sometimes, actions were enough.

Most people don’t expect to run into anyone famous on the street, so if you’re low-key enough, you can slip right by.” “I hate to tell you this, but have you looked in a mirror?” I asked archly. “Your face is not slipping by anyone.” Even if he weren’t famous, Asher was gorgeous enough to turn heads everywhere he went.

if I hadn’t been with you on Saturday, who would you have told about your father’s heart attack?” He stared at me. The seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness until he averted his gaze. “I don’t know,” he said. “No one, I guess.” An iron fist squeezed my heart. His old team hated him, his new team was wary of him, and everyone else probably either sucked up to him or wanted to use him. I couldn’t imagine how lonely that must feel. Asher was surrounded by fans and hangers-on every day, but sometimes, people felt the loneliest in a crowd.

I didn’t want a one-night stand, but an official relationship sounded so, well, official. I liked Asher more than I’d ever liked anyone, but my last relationship had ended in disaster, and I wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. He wasn’t my ex. But I couldn’t discount the little voice telling me that, no matter how well things were going in the present, they could always go wrong in the future.

So it’ll be an exclusive nonrelationship with dates. And sex. And many shared memes.” A soft puff of laughter escaped my lips. “Yes.” It was basically a real relationship in everything but name, but that was enough for now. I’d never dated someone with Asher’s public profile before. I needed to know what I was getting myself into before I inadvertently got burned again. However, I was glad it was exclusive. The thought of Asher with someone else made me squirm with jealousy.

After the initial spike, interest will wane, especially if we don’t give them anything to write about.” We. That one word alleviated my worries more than anything else he could’ve said. We meant we were in this together. I wasn’t alone. Warmth rushed to fill one of the tiny, fear-hollowed crevices in my chest.

“So now that we’ve cleared the air…” I gestured around us. “Is this our first official date as an exclusive noncouple couple?” “This is a pre-date.” Asher’s darkly amused stare crept under my skin, flustering me. “When I take you on our first date, you’ll know.” Something hot and languid spread through my veins. For the first time since we sat down, I wished we were eating at home instead of in a restaurant.

ADIL Does she model on the side? NOAH You’re an idiot NOAH I never should’ve unblocked you ADIL Your life would be so boring without me and you know it

Apparently dinosaur erotica is a thing NOAH … ADIL … ADIL What the hell have you been doing in London? ADIL Also, do you think triceratops fuck with their horns? Noah Wilson left the conversation.

I was so wrapped up in my mortification, I forgot about the person who’d entered mid-rehearsal until I heard his voice. “Scarlett.” My feet stilled. One blink peeled the shadows away from the seats and carpet, revealing a familiar muscled frame and sculpted cheekbones. A pleat of concern creased his brow, but his eyes were soft when they landed on me. Asher. The auditorium had emptied out, so it was just the two of us, and the echo of my name lingered. Scarlett.

The tears climbed up my throat and tore loose with a small sob. Once the first broke free, the rest followed, filling the cavernous space with the humiliating sound of my failure. I hated crying in public, but my threads of control had frayed with each minute of rehearsal. I’d reached the end of my restraint, and all it took was finding one safe shelter before I broke down. Asher was by my side in an instant, his arms encircling me as I pressed my tear-dampened face into his chest. He didn’t say a word. He just held me, his embrace so strong and steady, I was sure it could withstand even the most devastating of storms.

I’d believed anyone could do anything if they tried hard enough, but I was tired of having to try so hard. Some days, it was a struggle just to get out of bed. I was constantly at war with my body, my emotions, and everything that should’ve been on my side but wasn’t. I was exhausted. All I wanted was to stay here forever, surrounded by Asher’s warmth and the reassuring beats of his heart. Here, I didn’t have to try. I could just…be.

Shame stole through me at my earlier weakness. If Asher hadn’t been here, I might’ve admitted defeat after one bad rehearsal. Was that the type of person I’d become? Had I grown so soft that I couldn’t handle a bad day, or was I so hard on myself that I thought a bad day was the end of the world? I didn’t like either possibility.

Asher’s smile was as slow and languid as the warmth seeping under my skin. “That’s my girl.” That’s my girl. Three words shouldn’t have the power to undo me, but they did.

Physical attraction and romantic feelings aside, I just liked hanging out with him. Some people drained my energy if I was around them too long, but he lit me up.

even though we weren’t an official couple, I felt more comfortable talking to Asher than anyone else I’d dated.

Before we were forced to spend time together in training, I’d already formed an opinion about who he was based on what Vincent told me, what I read in the press, and the mere fact that he was Asher fucking Donovan. How could someone so famous and good-looking not be an arrogant playboy? But over the past few months, I’d discovered that he was so much more than the words other people used to pigeonhole him. It wasn’t about what he did so much as how he made me feel—like I was safe, worthy, and cherished. Like I could share my deepest secrets and ugliest thoughts without diminishing myself in his eyes.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Scarlett said, trailing her fingers up and down my thigh. “What are you thinking about?” “You.” I wrapped my arms around her from behind and rested my chin on her shoulder. We were lazing in her bathtub, the lavender-scented bubbles barely covering her curves as we luxuriated in the quiet evening. It was Thursday so we didn’t have training, but I didn’t need that as an excuse to see her anymore.

I’d pay any amount of money to take away her pain—not just her physical ones, but the mental and emotional ones too.

I’d never bathed anyone before, but the intimacy of it destroyed me more than sex. To have Scarlett trust me enough to take care of her when she was at her most naked and vulnerable…it was a gut punch in the best way possible.

Vincent was here, standing less than twenty feet away and separated from us by only two flimsy sets of doors while I was naked in his sister’s bathtub. Oh, fuck.

His mouth twisted into a grimace. “At least you’re not sleeping with him. I’m sorry, Lettie. I know it’s your love life, but if he was the one in your bathroom right now, I’d smash his face into the wall.”

If you only knew🤣

“I want to help, but most of the players I know aren’t in…” I trailed off. There was one defender who was in town and uninjured—one very good defender who made Simon look like an amateur (no offense to Simon). No. My pride quashed the seed of possibility before it fully blossomed. There was no fucking way I’d ask him for help. I’d rather chop off my leg and serve it to him on a silver platter.

Asher and Vincent both sported red kits, and the crowd’s excitement reached an audible crescendo when people noticed who was on the pitch. They studiously pretended the other didn’t exist, but at least they weren’t actively picking arguments with each other. I tamped down a laugh when I noticed how they performed the exact same stretches at the exact time in the exact same manner. Like I said, they were more alike than they cared to admit.

I caught Asher’s eye when he scanned the crowd, his gaze skimming over the different sections until it found me. A thousand fluttering wings filled my chest. “He’s different.” My friends let out good-natured groans, but I didn’t care. The world narrowed to pools of intense green and the heat of Asher’s stare. Electricity buzzed to life between us, slipping beneath my skin and setting every nerve ending on fire.

right before the teams finished their warm-ups, Asher grinned and winked. It happened so fast I would’ve missed it had I not already been looking at him, but it was enough. The thousand wings multiplied into a million, and I couldn’t keep an answering grin off my face as the players took their places for kickoff.

Of all the people who could’ve subbed in for the injured Green player, it had to be him. Rafael Pessoa. My ex-boyfriend. Asher and Vincent’s heads snapped toward him like lions sensing prey. Their bodies went rigid, and identical shadows darkened their faces. Oh, no. Oh nononono. “This is not good,” Carina said. “This is not good at all.” Brooklyn’s brow puckered. She didn’t know about Rafael, so she had no clue why we were freaking out. “Why? What’s wrong?” “Well.” My mouth tasted like pennies. “I think you’re going to get that fight you were hoping for.”

I’d played in front of royalty, celebrities, and heads of state, but hearing Scarlett cheer for me beat every other match a thousandfold. It wasn’t even close. She waved, her face glowing.

I found Scarlett in the crowd again. She smiled at me, her face soft with pride and something else that made my pulse race. Vincent was too busy signing autographs to notice, so I let myself smile back. The noise around us dulled into an indistinguishable roar. No matter where we were or how many people surrounded us, she commanded my attention like a lighthouse in a storm. Bright. Beautiful. Unwavering.

I’d waited years to give Rafael a piece of my mind. Now that I had, I was ready to put him in my past once and for all. Unfortunately, he was either too arrogant or too stupid to realize I wasn’t joking. He grabbed my arm when I attempted to brush past him. A sour feeling spread through my chest. “Scarlett, I was just⁠—” “Don’t touch her.” My gaze flew to the right just in time to see Asher blaze a path toward us with Vincent hot on his heels. Oh, fuck. Rafael dropped my arm. Asher punched him. And everything went to hell—again.

I remained silent. I didn’t want to say what I was really thinking with Vincent there, so the words crowded in my throat, straining against the leash I’d snapped around them. I’ll always have your back. Always. No matter what happens, there’s nothing in this world that I won’t do for you. Scarlett’s gaze brushed mine. She stilled for a fraction of a second, her lips parting like she’d heard my silent promise loud and clear.

“The first cab’s here,” Brooklyn said, checking her phone as a black car rolled up beside us. “We’re celebrating at the Angry Boar.” “Great.” Vincent flashed her a smile. “We can ride together. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Scarlett’s brother, Vincent.” “I know who you are.” She didn’t look up from her screen. “We’re not riding together. You’re riding with Asher.” Our smiles vanished in unison.

“It’s about time,” Brooklyn said as we took our seats on either side of the circular booth—me next to Scarlett, Vincent next to Brooklyn. Carina sat smack dab in the middle, her eyes glued to something on her phone. “Did you two enjoy your ride so much you extended it?” “Don’t push it, Blondie,” Vincent said. “You’re cute, but not that cute.” She smirked. “Was that why you wanted to ride with me earlier?” “No, that was because I was already in a charitable mood and wanted to extend my generosity to you.”

I ran a lazy hand over her thigh beneath the table. Her skin heated beneath my touch, and a smile flickered over my mouth when her breath hitched. “I would’ve much rather been riding with you though.” “Mmhmm.” She shifted, her eyes flicking over to where Brooklyn and Vincent were still bantering/flirting/whatever they were doing while Carina remained engrossed in her phone. “You were supposed to use that time to bond.” My hand stopped an inch above her knee and squeezed. Scarlett swallowed, her breath shallowing. “He’s not the one I want to bond with, darling.” The soft, languid glide of my words landed with the feathery grace of a dancer. Heavy enough to impact the vibrations of the air around us, but so light it only reached the person closest to me.

There’s no reason to be jealous, darling. I was only talking to her because Vincent was getting suspicious. You’re the only one I want.” I touched her back again, her warmth searing through her shirt and into my skin. She was always so contained that a part of me relished in her jealousy. To know she cared and that she wanted me as much as I wanted her—it was intoxicating. “When we leave, I’ll show you exactly how much.”

my palm slid from the small of her back to the curve of her waist. We were packed too tightly for anyone to notice what we were doing, and everyone was too drunk to care anyway. “Will you flirt with me as much as you did with her?” “If you want.” I lowered my head, my voice dipping into a murmur. “But what I really plan to do is strip you naked, lay you down on your bed, and tongue fuck you until you forget your own name.” Scarlett’s breath stuttered to a brief halt. “And once I’ve made you come all over my face…” I tightened my grip around her waist. “I’m going to pound my cock into your sweet little pussy and make you scream in that pretty way I love so much.”

Scarlett and I exchanged glances. We had to tell Vincent about us soon, but I allowed myself to enjoy the night for what it was: a celebration with friends (and a new frenemy) after a hard-earned win. The day had been a mess almost from the start, but I couldn’t deny that this was one of the best nights I’d had in a while. It was normal, Scarlett was with me, and that was all I needed.

“Does it bother you?” Asher asked quietly. “Me racing.” “I…” I tried to wrestle my thoughts into some semblance of coherence before I answered. I knew he loved the thrill, and I didn’t want to take that away from him. But every time he got behind the wheel, he put his career and his life in danger. Could I really sit by and let him take that risk without pointing out the dangers? He’d been lucky so far, but all it took was one stroke of bad luck to end everything. I knew that better than anyone.

I couldn’t imagine a world where Asher didn’t exist—where I didn’t hear his voice teasing me or see his smile beckoning me from across the room, where his heartbeats didn’t sync with mine when we fell asleep and where I didn’t have a constant safe harbor in the storm. I couldn’t imagine a me without him, and that terrified me more than anything else. Tears stung the backs of my eyes.

I was ruining our first night overseas together, but I couldn’t stop. I’d spent years running from my fears, but the prospect of losing him was so overwhelming that I couldn’t outrun it. It swamped me, dragging me under waves of anxiety and horrible, bloody what-ifs.

I know you love racing. I do. I don’t want to discount that, and I don’t want to tell you how to live your life. But I can’t wake up every day wondering if that’s the day your luck runs out, and I’ll get a call saying you’re gone.” My words cracked. “I can’t lose you.” “You won’t.” His voice sounded thick, or maybe that was the weight in my chest talking. “You won’t because I won’t race anymore. I don’t need it, but I need you.”

When I was younger, my friends and I tried to guess what our future partners’ professions would be. I didn’t care much at the time, but I was adamant about not dating anyone in emergency services. No firefighters, no police, no one whose job involved them running headfirst into danger for a living. In theory, a footballer should be safe, but there was nothing safe about my feelings for Asher. Maybe I was selfish for asking him to give up something he loved. If that was the case, then so be it. I would rather be selfish with him alive and healthy than selfless with him buried beneath the ground. Asher tightened his hold on me. “I won’t race anymore,” he repeated. “I promise.”