I could still smell Shea. Where he leaned into my side, where his cologne hung in the air in the shape of him. I could smell him, and I was dizzy with his scent. I had a moment’s daydream, a flash of imagining so vivid and scorching it burned me. Shea with his head thrown back, throat arched, gasping my name. His hands tangled in my sheets, thighs quaking— Focus. Game. Team. The guys are going to need you, especially today. So not that. Not him. Not ever.
