Page 158 of Wait For It

“Mr. Bailey, I do not accept your offer,” Georgia exclaimed in a performance worthy of an Oscar, before nudging Morgan forward. “But perhaps she will.”

The smirk on his face faded and his body went still. “Morgan?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, before lifting her eyes to meet his. “Hey, Conor.”

“Where in the hell have you been, girl?” He said gruffly, before lifting her up and over the barrier.

I cut my eyes over to Ari with a frown, trying to recall if I’d ever introduced Bailey to Morgan. I was almost positive I hadn’t, which left no reasonable explanation as to how the hell they knew each other. “Did I miss something?”

“I’ll explain it later.” She chuckled and pressed her lips to the corner of my mouth before lowering her voice. “How fast can you knock the rest of these interviews out?”

“Why?” I knew but wanted to hear her say it anyway.

“Because I have a surprise for you too.”

I lifted a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

Ari’s gaze heated, and she nodded. “Whatever you want, for as long as you want.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Killian

“I had only one superstition. I made sure to touch all the bases when I hit a home run.”

-Babe Ruth

“Remindme again why you’ve never worn a suit for me before,” Ari murmured in between kisses. One of her hands roamed my torso while the other held my tie in a firm grip.

“I was just wondering why I hadn’t seen you in one of my jerseys. Obviously, this is something you should start wearing every day.”

Pants optional.

“Oh, this old thing? I’ve had it for—”

I kicked the door shut behind me and cut her off with another kiss. My hands moved down to her hips, guiding her backward through the living room with only one destination in mind.

She grinned against my lips. “As I was saying, I got this when the Hurricanes made the playoffs. I needed something to wear to the games.”

My steps faltered, and I blinked, completely confused. “Wait—what?”

She exhaled a breathless laugh. “Well, I couldn’t go in just anything, could I?”

Most of the blood in my body was currently residing in my dick, so I was having a little trouble following. I’d assumed she’d flown in for tonight, but she’d clearly saidgames—as in, more than one—which was crazy. She would have had to have flown in days, maybe even weeks ago, to attend those.

“Hold on,” I said slowly. “When did you get into town?”

“Um, right after y’all made the playoffs?” Her voice was high-pitched, making her confession sound more like a question.

I scratched my beard while mentally calculating the dates. “But that was almost a month ago. Why am I just now seeing you?”

A flush crept up her throat. “You were doing so well, and frankly, I didn’t know how the press was going to react. I didn’t want anything to get into your head.”

I’d been wrong before.

Torture wasn’t being unable to hold Ari like I’d wanted or trying to give interviews with her hand squeezing my ass. It was discovering she’d been in the same damn city as me for weeks and knowing the only thing that had kept us apart was her reverence for the game.

A man could only take so much.

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