Page 8 of Second Position (Astor Hill #2)

“That is interesting considering people say the same to me,” I tell her, my head dipped just enough for her to hear me as she peruses the cabinet in front of us.

“Are you challenging me?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she looks back at me, unfazed by our proximity and I take note of how easy it’s been to be around her.

“That depends. Does the winner get a prize?” I can’t help the huskiness that comes into my voice, because let’s face it—I’m turned on.

I clear my throat, knowing I should be trying to get Gen to slow down, not egging her on.

Still, there’s a hint of her blush from earlier creeping back up her neck.

Just seeing her so flushed and nervous does something to me.

I push the thought away because I’m not sleeping with her.

Even if my body is pulsing with want, even if the devil on my shoulder is tapping me, reminding me that entering that stupid bet could be make or break for not just me, but the rest of the team.

“Bragging rights,” I say, backing away from her to grab two plates and knives for the peanut butter and jelly.

When I bring them over to her and the ingredients, I know she’s picked up on the distance. She won’t look at me, so I place a plate in front of her and grab the loaf of bread. Before I can even give her two slices, she snaps her head up at me, her eyes narrowed.

“What are we doing here, Grant?” Arms crossed, her chest rises and falls and her impatience is palpable. “You’re stalling, except I could’ve sworn you were checking out my ass when we walked into the kitchen.”

I hate that she knows that, that my attraction to her is as obvious as someone like Scott’s is, that she felt me look at her like that. And then I hate that I even hate that. Fuck .

I have to glance away, get a second of relief from the hot sear of her attention. I release a breath before looking back at her.

“Have you really even thought this through?” I almost plead, cringing at my tackless persuasion. “What I mean is, you shouldn’t—” Her brow ticks up with annoyance and I pivot, again. “Sleeping with me on a whim because you’re mad at someone?—”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” She looks found out, and neither of us says a thing.

“Look, I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

“But it was a good idea a few days ago?”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Oh,” she says, jutting her bottom lip out as she exaggerates the tilt of her head. “Did your captain scare you off?”

I almost laugh at the notion that Will could ever scare me.

“Thought this wasn’t about him?”

Anger pitches in her gaze and I want to walk this conversation back just to see it dissipate.

“It’s not,” she bites out, and the way she’s so blind to the toxicity in their dynamic almost has me telling her about the bet.

She deserves to know how little he thinks of her, and yet, the idea of devastating her like that has dread flashing across my chest. She can’t see this clearly, and the last thing I should be doing is making it murkier—either by sleeping with her or revealing just how horrible Will is.

“I shouldn’t have agreed.” The words push against every ounce of want inside of me, but I can’t let this happen.

We can’t just let our basest wants dictate our actions; I can’t just take advantage of her for my own personal gain.

I’m better than that. “Download an app, go on a date, get to know someone first,” I add, acutely aware of the double standard I’m playing into.

“Oh my god,” she says, her anger morphing into sheer amusement. “So take me for pizza if it makes you feel better!”

I stand there, once again stunned by the words coming from her mouth. All I can think about is that damn bet.

“Either admit you find me repulsive and the grossest thing you’ve ever laid eyes on or take me on a stupid date so you can sleep at night.

” The cross of her arms noticeably pushes her chest up, highlighting the subtle swell of her breasts, and I can’t stop my gaze from lingering a second too long.

The gleam in her eyes tells me she knows I’d be lying, but I also don’t want to lie to her.

I want to tell her she’s too beautiful to be making a list of men she could sleep with, that she’s too smart to be thinking up ways to make Will jealous.

Because deep down, I know that’s what this is.

It comes to me, all of sudden—the way out of this.

“Okay,” I tell her, an eerie calm settling over me, and I can’t tell if it’s because this is the perfect idea or the worst. “You go on a date with me, and I’ll sleep with you.”

Victory shines brightly in her gaze as she takes me in, her smile turning timid as she looks up at me.

“It’s a deal, Grant Fielder. Let’s actually shake this time.”

I clasp her hand in mine, noting how soft it is, how small it feels, how dainty she is in my hold, but when she clasps mine back, I immediately know she’s stronger than she lets on.

And I don’t let go after we shake, just let the warmth of her hand seep into mine as I trace the slope of her nose up to her eyes.

It’s easy for me to get lost in them; I’m rarely close enough to notice .

“Stop looking at me like that,” she cuts into my trance, those eyes pinched with discomfort.

“Can’t help it. Not with those eyes,” I counter, feeling the need to share at least one of my thoughts. She flushes before rolling her head away, her eyes with it, and pursing her lips.

“Save it for the bedroom.” She releases my hand, a quietly confident smile on her face, and grabs her bag off the table. “So when’s this date?”

She says “date” like it’s poisonous.

“To be decided.” She starts to argue, but I cut her off. “Pretty sure you need something from me . My terms. Or no deal.”

Her throat bobs as she looks up at me and she bites that lip again before standing up a little taller, like she’s regaining her composure. “Fine,” is all she says, and I’m shocked she didn’t fight me on it.

I open the door for her, waiting in the doorway to make sure she makes it to her car. The length of her ponytail swishes dramatically as she quickly turns back to me.

“I’m assuming you’ll text me ?” she says with an air of annoyance that doesn’t feel entirely genuine and my brows furrow in confusion.

“You do?” I smirk, pleased she thinks about me enough to make assumptions at all.

“You like to be in control. Clearly.” Again, that feigned sense of irritation, like she’s not really bothered by it at all. It gets my blood running hot all over again.

“Goodnight, Gen,” I tell her, really needing her to walk away before her eye is drawn to my groin.

She doesn’t look, but there’s laughter in her eyes before she turns toward the stairs and leaves. I pull in as much air as my lungs can handle and hold it there, just until the light headedness begins, and release it, craving that second of clarity.

I can’t tell if this was the right thing to do, but I do think it was the best given the circumstances. Could I live with myself if she tried this shit with someone like Scott, who is involved with that bet? No. I know I couldn’t.

So I’ll promise her a date that’ll never happen.

It’ll buy us time, buy her time to realize she doesn’t need to do this.

It keeps her safe from being manipulated by the terms of Will’s bet.

And at the end of the season… I don’t know.

Maybe by then she’s moved on from our deal, forgotten about it, actually moved on from Will and is dating someone.

And I fucking hate that , if the hard set of my jaw is any indication.

I push the thought into the recesses of my mind, go back inside, finish making that damn sandwich, and pull up my game tape.