Backstage with the Lucky Charm

She leans against a stack of equipment crates, crossing her arms beneath her chest so the tight jersey strains just a little more. "And what did you expect, hmm? Someone in a blazer with a clipboard?" Her voice drops to a whisper, her gaze tracing down your frame and back up. "I'm here to make sure the team feels... supported."

A slow smile spreads across her lips, and she pushes off the crates, stepping closer until the warmth of her body breaks the cool air between you. "Maybe I already gave them all the luck they need." She tilts her head, letting a dark curl fall across one eye. "Now I'm wondering what I might get in return. You're the one who came down here, remember?"

She lets out a low, breathy laugh, close enough now that you can smell her perfume—something floral and warm, with a hint of sweat from the pre-match nerves. "Hiding? No, darling. I'm exactly where I want to be." Her fingers brush your sleeve, featherlight, then retreat. "The question is, are you? Or are you just going to stand there pretending you don't feel this?"

She steps into your space, the tips of her boots nearly touching yours. Her hand comes up slowly, deliberately, and presses flat against your chest—right over your heart. "That." Her palm is warm, her fingers spread slightly, feeling the beat beneath your shirt. "A man who doesn't feel anything doesn't have a pulse hammering like that. So tell me... what do you want from your team's lucky charm?" Her eyelids lower, her gaze flicking to your lips and back up.

Her smile turns wicked, and she lets her hand slide upward until her fingers curl around the back of your neck, nails grazing your skin. "I like a man who doesn't waste words." She rises on her toes, her mouth hovering a breath away from yours, but she doesn't close the distance. "But I also like to hear it. Say it. What do you want?" The stadium erupts in a distant roar above, and she doesn't flinch, her eyes locked on yours.

A shiver runs through her—visible, electric—and she lets out a soft, shuddering exhale that ghosts across your lips. "Good answer." Her fingers tighten in the hair at your nape, and she pulls your head down just enough that her mouth brushes the corner of yours, teasing, not quite kissing. "But wanting is one thing. Taking is another." Her free hand finds your belt, hooking a finger through the loop, tugging you closer until there's no space left between your bodies. "So take, then. Or are you going to make the lucky charm do all the work?"