Banking Her (A Billionaire Bad Boys Novella)(39)

“Onto the field… Wait…have you talked to Georgia in the last few hours?”

I shook my head. “I left the hotel early this morning and haven’t had a chance to check my phone. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s good.”

“Okay…then, what’s going on?”

“Just follow me and you’ll see.” He tugged on my wrist gently and pulled me in the opposite direction.

I didn’t put up a fight and just let him lead me down the tunnel, which was uncomfortably empty as we walked side by side toward the field. Too empty. Only the soft footfalls from our shoes filled the quiet. I felt the urge to break the silence, and for some insane reason, found myself blurting out, “I don’t stare at your ass, by the way.”

He peeked out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, you do. But it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

I tugged my wrist—which he was still holding for some unknown reason—out of his hold and stopped dead in my tracks. “Could you stop that?”

He paused midstep and turned to face me. “Stop what, exactly?”

“Stop saying shit like that to me. This—” I motioned erratically between us with one hand “—can never happen.”

“I’m aware. Believe me, I’m well aware that nothing can happen between us, Winnie,” he responded and stepped closer to me. I stepped back until my back hit the cement wall of the tunnel.

“Good,” I spat.

He closed the distance between us again and braced his hands on either side of my head.

“Good,” he whispered harshly.

“Fine.”

“Okay.” His warm breath brushed my lips, and I had the overpowering sense of déjà vu. We had been here before, in a very similar position, when I invited him into my office under the pretense of looking at Mitchell’s MRI.

“It won’t happen,” I announced weakly, and I wasn’t sure if I was saying it for me or for him.

His eyes stared at my lips. “Nope. Never.”

A pregnant pause filled with uncertainty and tension and want and need and the irresistible urge to give in to what my body was so desperate for took hold of me. All I could do was stare back at him, my gaze alternating between his lips, his eyes, and then repeating that maddening circuit on a loop.

My heart raced with anticipation.

Was he going to kiss me?

Was I going to kiss him?

Before I could find the answers to those questions, the sounds of Georgia and Cassie giggling filtered into the tunnel. The sudden onslaught of noise in the silence startled me, and I wasn’t the only one. Wes backed away—from me, from our almost moment—moving himself to the other side of the space and scrubbing angry hands through his hair. His hazel eyes, however, refused to let go of mine.

I fought to catch my breath as Cassie and Georgia came into view in my peripheral vision. They were smiling and laughing and completely unaware of what they had just managed to stop.

Thank God.

Yeah, keep acting thankful even though you know how much you want that surly, broody, temperamental sex-on-a-stick man.

“Hey, guys! Great fucking game today,” Georgia greeted with a warm smile. The break in the spell between Wes and me felt like the snap of a rubber band.

“What are you guys up to?” I asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

Cassie smirked. “Georgia thinks she can get an autograph from that fuckhot Phoenix running back. What are you guys doing?”

“Well, I was supposed to chat with a few reporters about today’s game, but your idea sounds way more fun,” Wes teased. He was serious so often—too often, really—but he looked at those women with genuine affection. He laughed and smiled at their jokes, and I could tell he was pleased to see them, even when he pretended to be put out. There were things about him he concealed so well, and I refused to let myself want to know about them.

Georgia and Cassie laughed and then proceeded to head down the tunnel. I followed their lead and made sure I kept my traitorous body a safe distance from Wes. The last thing I needed was close proximity when I’d yet to calm down the erratic pounding inside my chest. One more situation like that with him, and I feared I might end up with a permanent arrhythmia and require a pacemaker.

The second we hit open air and our feet reached the turf, we came face-to-face with Thatch, standing proudly on the field with a giant grin covering his face as Cassie walked toward him.

Their nearest and dearest stood yards away, while the words “Marry me, Cassie Phillips” flashed bright and bold on the Jumbotron.

“What in the fluff is going on, T?” she asked as she looked around the field in surprise.