Page 39 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
“Aww, that’s sweet. My romantic heart loves that,” I say.
He shoots me the swooniest smile, one that suggests he’s a romantic too. “I’m happy for him. I know Grant is too.”
“And speaking of Grant, I hope you don’t mind that I said something to him. I swear I only told him good things. Because there are only good things to say.”
He groans. “You’re making this hard. So damn hard. I want to take you home, and kiss you all night, and take you out. Over and over.” With a deep sigh, he seems to reroute his thoughts. “And of course I don’t mind that you told Grant. He’s a good one, from the little I know. And if you trust him, I do too.”
I nudge his elbow as we shuffle toward the lobby, taking our time. “So you’re consorting with the enemy. Hanging out with all the Cougars. Your bitter rivals.”
He puts his finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone I’m the Dragon who hangs out with the Cougars. The golden team of the city, when we’re sworn enemies on the field.”
“Funny that the expansion team has become the favorite child,” I say, but it’s not entirely a surprise—the Cougars won the World Series last year.
“Meanwhile, we’re more tarnished than an old set of candlesticks. We’re not anything but reviled. But I hope that changes with the new personnel, all-new players, new coaching staff. Spring training was good, and the guys on the team seem cool,” he says as he grabs his phone from his pocket. “I should check and see if Crosby is still around, since he drove.”
After he slides his phone open, he stops in his tracks, laughing at the message. “No surprise. They took off already. They say I can find my own damn ride home,” he says.
“They are ruthless.”
“It’s a guy thing.”
I laugh. “Yeah. I kind of know how guys are.”
He freezes, his eyes popping to planet size. “Oh. What do you mean? You know how guys are what?” he asks, stumbling over every syllable.
“Not like that,” I lower my voice to reassure him before we reach the lobby and the crowds. It’s still just us, so I say, “In fact, I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
The look in his eyes is pure joy, chased by heat. He blows out a long stream of air, then another. “Reese Fallon, what am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing,” I say softly. “Unfortunately.”
“I know.” He steps closer, glances around to make sure no one can see us, then wraps a hand around my arm. “I haven’t been with anyone either.”
I tremble, a full-body shudder traveling through me. “Not at all?”
He shakes his head. “No one, Reese.”
My head spins. I don’t know what to make of that—two years. “Was there a reason for that?”
With those green eyes pinning me, the man simply shrugs. “I don’t do hookups. And I didn’t meet anyone who made me sit up and take notice. You know me—I prefer connection,” he says, a refrain of the words he said the night we met.
Words that make my bones hum, my blood sear.
“Everything’s sexier that way. Better that way,” I say softly, repeating his words back to him.
“More real. Like this,” he says, and the warmth, the heat, the absolute fire between us crackles.
Electricity sparks like a power grid lit up after an outage, charging the whole city.
We stay like that, staring, gazing, like we’re about to crash into each other and combust. The two of us are a chemical reaction. We were before; we’re more so now.
The way his eyes travel up and down my body, the way his glittering irises linger on my lips turn me liquid.
I want him even more than I did the first time around.
But I can’t have him.
Thanks, Dad.
You suck.
I tear myself away though. Otherwise, I’ll climb him like a tree. “We should go.”
“Yes, we should,” he seconds, and a sadness clobbers my chest. This will probably be our last time doing anything.
“You’re my what-if guy,” I say.
“You were always my what-if woman, Reese. I even told Crosby that earlier this year.”
“You told him about me?” I ask, a smile tipping my lips, because I love that.
“Nothing private. Nothing personal. Just that there was this woman I couldn’t get out of my mind.”
My skin warms, and my heart flip-flops. This man makes me swoon over and over. “We really better go now, or we’ll both do something we regret.”
“I wouldn’t bet on me regretting it,” he says.
I arch a brow. “Are you sure there? I think you would.”
Dragging a hand through his hair, he sighs. “Stop knowing me so well already.”
I give him a soft, resigned smile.
“But for the record, I would not regret being with you. I’d regret crossing a line I shouldn’t.”
They’re pretty much one and the same, but I don’t point that out.
