Page 107 of The Wildest One

“Okay. Talk to me.”

I couldn’t imagine this type of tension lasting all season.

I either needed amnesia or Beck needed to be traded to Antarctica.

“Do you want to come to the back of the plane to sit … or …”

“Why don’t you join me right here?” He patted the empty seat beside him.

In order to get into the seat, I had to move past him in that tight, tiny walkway. With the way he was sitting, our knees would brush, and even the slightest movement of the plane would send me straight into his lap.

He had known exactly what he was doing when he asked me to sit.

Professionalism, my ass.

“I’ll help you.” He held out his hand.

I grabbed his fingers, an instant jolt of electricity going through me—to my chest, to my stomach, to that throbbing spot between my legs—and I hurried past him. I tried not to pay attention to the way it felt when the side of my leg grazed his or how his cologne was triggering memories of the way his skin had tasted when I licked it. But I was going so fast that I was moving awkwardly, and I flopped down in the seat, my landing anything but graceful.

“You all right?” He chuckled.

“Yeah … yeah.”

He crossed his legs. “What do you have for me?”

Me.

That was what I wanted to say anyway. Rather than admit the truth, knowing the heap of hell it would get me in, I gazed across the aisle, reminding myself that I was surrounded by ears.

“After we get back from this stint of away games, we’re going to pick a home game, and our half of the raffle earnings will be donated to breast cancer research. For that game, I’d like to have custom pink jerseys made that you guys will wear and sign at the end. Those will be auctioned, and the proceeds will be donated too.”

“And you’re telling me this because you want my approval?”

The way he looked in a suit should be illegal.

The crispness of the white shirt with the dark gray jacket. How the edges of both bordered his face and neck. The way each accentuated his eyes.

Dear God.

I cleared my throat. “It would be a change to your uniforms. So, yes, I was told to run it by you.”

“I would never say no to charity. I also think I look sexy as fuck in pink.”

I laughed.

“You don’t believe me? Just wait and see.” He smiled.

I wished he wouldn’t.

It was too beautiful.

He occupied the armrest between us and leaned in a little closer. “Who’s going to be collecting the jerseys after we wear them?”

“Probably me. Why?”

“I know how you feel about my sweat.”

He was unbelievable.