Page 43 of The Wrong Game

Then, a chant broke out in our section.

Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

Poor Ben looked at me with eyes as wide as saucers, sweat beading on his forehead. He licked his lips — not because he was turned on, but because he was nervous as hell. And I nodded, encouraging him that it was okay.

But before he could lean in to seal the deal, a hand wrapped around my waist from behind, yanking me in the opposite direction.

I didn’t have time to process it all — the hand sliding into my hair, the other arm pulling me flush against his body, the crowd going wild.

No, I didn’t realize any of it was happening — not until my hands were fisted in his jersey, my mouth opening more to let his tongue inside, a moan rumbling up my throat at the feel of such a passionate, possessive kiss.

But it wasn’t Ben’s lips on mine.

It was Zach’s.

The crowd cheered even louder when he pulled back, and my eyes fluttered open, hands still wrapped in his jersey as he held me.

Zach brushed my hair away from my face, knuckling my chin. “Yep,” he breathed, low enough that only I could hear. “Just as amazing as I remembered.”

My heart somersaulted, a flurry of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. I searched his dark eyes, body leaning in for more on its own account.

And then, I realized what I was doing.

With my hands still in his jersey, I tossed Zach back with a scoff. “Oh, my God, Zach!”

He just held his hands up, smile crooked up with that damn dimple showing.

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” I said hurriedly, turning back to him with my face red for a completely different reason.

Ben’s jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on Zach.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what was happening. The camera was on and everyone was cheering and—”

“Not cool, man,” Ben said to Zach, ignoring me.

“What?” Zach said, leaning back. He stretched his arm over the back of the chairs, leaving one of them around me. “You hesitated. I was just giving the crowd what they wanted.”

“Zach!” I whisper-yelled, thumping him across the chest.

“I’m going to get another beer,” Ben said, standing.

I stood, too. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” he said quickly, glancing at Zach again before his blue eyes fixed on mine. “You should stay.”

When he left, the rows around us broke out in a mixture ofooooh’sand laughs. Janet waved at me from her row, pointing at Zach and holding up two thumbs-up signs.

“I like him better,” she mouthed.

I groaned, plopping back down in my seat after I peeled Zach’s arm from the back of my chair. I kicked back, crossing my arms and watching the field.

“I would say I’m sorry, but…”

“Shut up,” I clipped, cutting Zach off.

The ball was snapped, and I watched from what felt like another universe as the Lions intercepted our pass, running it back the other way seventeen yards before they were taken down. I barely registered it, though. Instead, my fingertips floated over my lips — lips that Zach had just kissed like he owned, like they weren’t even mine to offer to anyone else.

I closed my eyes, forcing a breath that was meant to calm me but just made my heart beat faster.