Page 72 of The Wrong Game

“Thank you,” he said, tapping his glass to mine once I’d handed it to him.

We both took a drink with our eyes dancing over each other, smiles playing on our lips.

“I turned on the game,” he said, nodding to my TV. I hadn’t even noticed it was on.

“Perfect,” I said, but I didn’t even glance at the score. “Better than the music I put on last time.”

Zach laughed at that, shaking his head. “Hey, Marvin set the mood, didn’t he? You knew what you were doing.”

“I knewnothingabout what I was doing.”

Zach’s smile softened, his eyes watching mine. “I know. It was adorable.”

“As long as you think so.”

I let out a long, slow breath, crossing the room to where the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the south side of the city. The stadium was glowing in the distance, and I watched it as the crowd roared on my television. It was quiet, the volume low, but I felt that crowd deep in my chest like they were cheering for me.

Kiss him! Kiss him!

My stomach flipped, and I took a sip of my wine instead of turning around to face Zach again. I couldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t stop overanalyzing the fact that I didn’t have a plan now.

The ball was his. And my defense was weak.

I gripped my glass a little tighter, eyes widening.

Holy shit.

It was like all the adrenaline from the game, from Belle’s pep talk, from having Zach’s arms around me faded all at once in a dramaticwhoosh. Suddenly, the nervous energy shifted from excitement to panic.

I’m not in control.

I don’t have a plan.

He was in my condo, again, after I swore he never would be after that first night. I told him I liked him. I admitted I had feelings. I left the guy whowasin my plan at the game without even telling him I was leaving.

And now, we were back at my place.

And I had no idea what to do.

I took another sip of my wine, forcing a breath, but it got caught somewhere in my chest when a warm hand brushed my hip.

“It really is some view you have up here,” Zach said, sliding up behind me. One hand still held his wine, the other gently holding my hip as his eyes washed over the city lights.

“Still hard to believe this place is mine, sometimes,” I breathed, pulse ticking up a notch with him so close to me. His breath was warm on my neck, his hand firm as he held me, and where I was visibly shaking, he was serene and calm. Zach commanded my attention simply by standing there behind me, tall and confident, and it was then that I realized.

I’d given the control to him.

And somewhere, deep down beneath my anxiety and fear — I liked that.

Zach turned his gaze from the city to me, but I couldn’t look at him. I just stared out the window as he lowered his lips to my shoulder, eliciting a shiver as he kissed the tender skin there.

“You’re still nervous.”

“Even more than last time,” I blurted out on a breath.

Zach chuckled, his warmth leaving me long enough for him to abandon his still-full wine glass on the table next to my couch. He slid up behind me again, this time both hands wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against him as he breathed me in.

“Remember what I told you last time?” he asked, his breath husky and raw as his hands slipped under the fabric of my hoodie. His hands pressed flat against my stomach, lips brushing against the skin of my neck again.