“You’re a bastard, Danny Jones. A cold, unfeeling bastard!” The words were spat out of the new defender’s mouth like venom, but the poison didn’t penetrate my skin.

I sneered at him, “Well, if that means I can actually play this sport, I don’t care.” I moved in, so my face was right in his, “Who’s captain, Poynter? Who scored the winning goal today? And who had to get sent off after he got tackled once…?”

Dougie Poynter bristled, “He took a chuck out of my ankle, Jones. The fact that he was awarded a red card shows that he made an illegal move. Somehow, I don’t even see you staying on the pitch with that- your choice or otherwise.”

I looked down, noted the neat bandage on his ankle, which he was wisely holding out of the shower spray. “I wouldn’t have lost flesh in the first place. You don’t belong here, Poynter. When are you going to realise that?”

“If I didn’t belong here, your damn team wouldn’t have signed me,” he hissed, before storming out of the showers, limping slightly on his injured foot. I shook my head in pity, before sticking it under the spray.

Poynter wasn’t in the changing room when I emerged. He always ran off as quickly as he could. Then again, I was known for taking ages in the shower. “Nice goal, Jones,” Danny Hall commented on his way out.

“Cheers.” I grinned at Chris Leonard, who was fixing his hair with a look of pure concentration in the mirror on the wall, as I pulled on my boxers, “Hot date?”

“Of sorts,” he said with a proud smile. “Second anniversary. I’m taking the wife out to this fancy restaurant that she’s been eying for a while.”

“Have fun,” I said tauntingly as he stuffed the last of his kit into his bag.

“I intend to,” he told me with a wink. As I laughed, he smiled at me, before leaving. In all honesty, I envied what Chris had. It was so comfortable, and sweet. I could never have that.

I glanced up as the door opened; saw a man I didn’t recognise in the doorway. “Whoever you’re looking for, he’s not here,” I told him as I did up my jeans.

“Danny Jones?” he asked coldly, and had me freezing as I reached for my top. I swivelled to face him.

“Who’s asking?”

He snapped the look on the door secure and advanced, his cerulean gaze flat and unreadable. “You’ve been hassling my boyfriend.”

I crossed my arms across my chest, “And who would that be?”

“Dougie Poynter.”

I gave a snort of disbelief, “You’re Poynter’s boyfriend? Man… That loser has better pulling power than I thought.” I ran my gaze over the man. He was attractive- to be sure. About my age, with a medium build, muscled arms, and a chiselled bone structure. His eyes were clear in colour, and one eyebrow had a silver bar winking in the dingy light. His hair was light brown, and gelled into a loose Mohican which complimented his face.

That face darkened with fury, “He is not a loser. And he does not need self-obsessed jerks like you telling him otherwise.”

“The fact that he sent his boyfriend in to say that for him says otherwise.” I turned away, “Now, if you’ve said your piece, you can go back to your pathetic boyfriend and smooth his ruffled feathers.”

I made to move off, but in a matter of seconds he had me up against the wall in a firm grip. “You’ve hated him from the get-go!” he snapped, leaning right into my face. “What was it about him? Did he remind you of someone? Someone who rejected you?”

I matched the fury in his eyes with my own. How dare he take that route?! He had no right! “I dislike your boyfriend, because he does not fit in with the rest of the team,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Cooperation is necessary. And, as captain, I have to enforce that. If feelings get hurt, so be it.”

“You don’t care, do you? You don’t give a damn who you crush… DO YOU?!” he shouted.

“I care. I care about the team. It’s the only thing worth caring for.”

The smirk that came onto his lips made me feel sick, “Do you really expect me to believe that you can’t get a partner? That you wouldn’t go for a quick lay?”

“I don’t want a quick lay,” I muttered, shoving him off me.

“Then what do you want?” he asked softly.

I spun back round, and glared at him with such rage that he took a step back. “I want my fiancé back. I want to wake up every morning and find him next to me. I don’t want to visit his grave every week and feel regret, because he didn’t tell me about the cancer until it was too late.”

“Oh, God. I-!”

I knew I should stop, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Now I’d started everything had to come pouring out. “I don’t want to have nightmares of the moment where he squeezed my hand one last time on that hospital bed, before dying in front of me. I want Tom back!” I screamed the last part, almost hysterically. “That’s all I want. And that’s exactly what I can’t have.”

Realising tears were now pouring down my cheeks as a result of that outburst, I ran for the bathroom. “I’m sorry.” His voice hit my ears as I washed my face in the sink.

“Yeah. Well, so am I. Doesn’t bring him back.”

He cut me off as I made to head for my clothes. “It also doesn’t give you any reason to rag on Dougie.”

“My family disowned me. This club is the only thing I have left that matters to me. I’m not watching him take it to the ground ‘cause he can’t work in a team. He shapes up, I’ll lay off. Simple as.” I stepped past him, and finished dressing. “Pass on the message, will you?” I shoved my towel into my bag, and headed for the door.

“I can’t accept that,” he said, grabbing my arm.

“Well, I’m sorry.” My upper lip curled in distaste as I looked at him, “I’ve wasted too much time here already.”

His grip on my arm tightened, “Dougie doesn’t deserve this.”

“As his boyfriend, I’m assuming you’ll have seen him play regularly, right? Moral support?” I kept my voice low and soft. He nodded. “Now, tell me this, honestly: Was he playing to his true potential out there?”

“He was doing his best!”

I slammed him into the wall, satisfied when he winced from the impact. “That didn’t answer my question! Was he playing to his full potential?!

“He was just-”

“THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!!” I shouted. “Can’t you see that? He’s not on this team to look good. He’s on this team to play as one of us. He’s yet to do that. When we played his old team last season, he was playing to his full potential. I want to see that here.” I released my hold on him, stepping back from the wall. He lunged at me.

Our lips collided in a messy, passionate kiss. All anger I had previously felt towards him evaporated into pure sexual energy as he ground into me, enticing moans out my lips. His tongue caressed mine. “You’re not giving him a chance,” he insisted, pulling off my top.

“He’s had plenty of chances,” I disagreed, fumbling with his belt buckle urgently. “He’s yet to exceed.”

He bit into the flesh of my shoulder, “He will.” He kicked off his jeans, driving me backwards until my back connected with the cool tiles of the changing room wall. “Believe me, he will.”

My fingers worked the buttons on his shirt, while he simultaneously launched an assault on my neck and undid my trousers, where I was already straining against the fabric. “He better. Or we paid too much. We don’t have time for non-committers. There’s a piece of pillow talk for you.” I tugged his shirt down off his shoulders, needing to feel skin under my fingers. I skimmed my hand up the curve of his back sensuously.

“You have my word it’ll be in use tonight,” he murmured against my neck, his warm breath tickling. He spun me round so I was facing the wall. “He still isn’t back on form after he broke his leg at the end of last season, y’know.”

“We’re taking that into account, but he’s had long enough.” I moaned as he inserted a finger into me. Damn. It had been a long time since anyone had ever done this to me. “He needs to put more pressure on himself. This is serious.”

“Uh-huh.” I felt him scissoring his fingers inside me. “He knows that. And he’s trying. He really is. It doesn’t help how you’re treating him.”

“This isn’t.” I broke off, gasped as I felt him edge into me. “This isn’t high school football anymore. He gets no special treatment.” I moaned loudly as he began to thrust into me, what little pain I had tried to distract myself from in the beginning was now overwhelmed by a feeling of utmost pleasure.

He slammed into me over and over, his hands gripping my hips firmly. Even he was finding it hard to maintain the argument right now. He reached round slowly and seized hold of my throbbing dick, starting to pump it rhythmically. That sent me over the edge. “I’m gonna- Oh, God,” he panted in my ear, apparently at the same point of desperation. “I’m gonna-” We came within seconds of each other.

“See that he recovers himself,” I commanded briskly, moving away and starting to dress once more.

“Don’t worry. I’ll relay this whole conversation to him.”

I shot him a glance over my shoulder as I picked up my bag. “It wouldn’t be smart to include actions.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “And besides, he wouldn’t believe me. Sweet, loyal, caring Harry Judd would never cheat on him.”

I nodded. “I’ve heard of you. You’re famous. Best WAG award by Heat last year, weren’t you?”

“Oh, yes.” He shot me a wicked grin, then moved over to me as I set my hand on the door handle. He pulled me into a hot, steamy kiss, “Are you going to cut him some slack?”

I smiled, and took great pride in brushing my lips over his one last time before opening the door. “No.”