Page 50 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
He nods as if he digs this idea. “You’re right. They don’t get to have every part of me. But I also don’t have to lie.”
“Yes. Most people don’t deserve all parts of us. Most people only get a small part of you.”
“Woman, you’re brilliant.”
We spend the next hour reviewing questions and answers.
It’s all going so incredibly well that I think maybe we can do this.
Maybe we can be friends.
I love talking to Holden.
I love his honesty. I love his earnestness.
I don’t want him out of my life.
When the hour winds down and he glances at his watch, my heart lurches.
Disappointment washes over me that this slice of time has unspooled.
“Do you have to go?” I ask, pitch rising.
“No, I just wanted to check the time. In case you had to go.”
I dip my head, smiling. I press my lips together, then ask, “What are your plans? You’re the guy with the plans after all.”
“I didn’t make any for today.” It sounds a little like a confession, like he’s waiting for me to ask why.
I go for it. “Why did you leave your day unplanned?”
He scratches his jaw, his expression showing a hint of vulnerability that’s so appealing. “That whole thing you were just saying about speaking the truth? About giving people a part of yourself or more?”
I nod, my chest tightening with anticipation.
“Can I just speak the whole truth to you right now?”
“Of course.” My answer is all breathy, betraying my heart.
But I don’t care.
He reaches for my arm, squeezing it. “Talking to you is one of the easiest things I’ve ever done, Reese. It was easy the first time we met. It was easy the other day. Even though you’ve been out of my life for so long, it feels like whenever we talk, like the other night, like today, it’s so easy for us to fall into step, isn’t it?”
“Confession: I was thinking the same thing.”
His smile is electric. “Were you?”
“Don’t I look like I was?” I ask playfully.
He shoots me one of those deliciously cocky grins. “I don’t know. Sometimes you look at me like you’re thinking other things entirely. Things about…not discussing,” he says, moving a little closer, using our synonym, his voice going to that husky zone that tells me his mind is heading down another track.
A track I like.
A track I wanted to get on the other night, wanted to get on two years ago.
A track I still want to take.
“Sometimes I am thinking that.”
His eyes roam up and down me, making my skin sizzle. “You want to know what I’m thinking right now?”
So much. “I do.”
“I’m thinking this is a risk,” he says, pointing from him to me. “I’m thinking of all the things we talked about at the Legion of Honor. How this might be trouble. How this might be spun. But I’m also thinking right now I can’t find it in me to care. I want to be with you more than I can let myself care about any of those things.”
My heart flies on widespread wings, even though nothing has truly changed.
We can’t be together in the way we want. The score hasn’t switched. The stakes haven’t shifted.
But maybe the difference is that with more time together, we feel more desire. So the weight of the decision shifts to the now. To today. To wants and wishes and desires, rather than sense and wisdom and prudence.
“I’m thinking the same things,” I confess in a whisper.
“I’m thinking it’s a great plan,” he says, in a sexy, sensual offering.
“It is.”
Heat rises in me, licking my skin, leading me on. Pushing me past all the reasons to say no. We’re off-limits. We’re forbidden. Someday he could be a client.
And the big reason for him—I’m the coach’s daughter.
But he doesn’t make me feel that way.
I’ve only ever felt like the woman he desperately wants. I like being that woman. “So, you really don’t have any plans for the rest of the day, Holden?”
“Not till my game.” His answer is husky, suggesting he might not have plans, but he has lots of ideas.
I twirl a strand of my hair. “Is there a reason you didn’t make plans?”
“I’m looking at that reason.”
I light up, sparklers shining brightly.
I lift my chin, brazen, bold. “What do you want to do with me?”
“I want to take you back to my place, spread you out on my bed, kiss you all over, pick up where we left off.”
It’s a terrible idea, I know that. But it also sounds like the best idea ever.
A few minutes later, he’s ordered a Lyft, we’re sliding into the back seat, and he takes my hand, threads his fingers through mine, then runs his thumb over my wrist. His touch sends my pulse into overdrive, igniting every cell in my body.
Humans don’t always listen to their instincts. Sometimes that’s a good thing. Sometimes it’s not.
