Page 177 of Waiting Game

I quickly draw back so I get to see her ass jiggle, but mostly so she won’t expire from the run.

“You’re a pervert,” she calls out as if she read my mind.

“Who’s the pervert? The one who puts the ass in front of an innocent bystander or the one who merely looks at a beautiful sight in front of his very eyes?”

Her head whips to the side so I can see her grin.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of that. Especially when I helped bring it to life.

Mia, by nature, is quiet and solemn.

Apart from when I’m around.

“You know, you never did give me the full scoop about your pregame routine.”

The change of subject almost has me decelerating.

“Cheater.”

Tilting her face toward the low morning sun, she smirks. “I’m interested. I know about the bananas, lacing your skates, MiaP.O.R.N, and Taylor Swift. What else? Lemme guess… there has to be some smut involved.”

I sniff.

“And oranges.”

“How did you know that?”

She slows down to match my pace. A pace I only set so that I can watch her fine ass in yoga pants. “Whenever you’re at my apartment,you always ask me to peel an orange for you.”

“Sherlock Holmes, that’s your real name, huh?” I tease, but I snag her hand to kiss her knuckles.

“You got that right. So?” she demands, entirely aware of my nefarious intent.

She’s as bad—I’ve seen her drooling over my pecs when we shower together after our runs. I’ve never been self-conscious about the scars on my abdomen, but if I were, her appreciative eyes would have cured me of it.

“I read the last twenty-five pages of a book I love. But that’s after. Not pre. In the whirlpool.”

“And the oranges?”

“Two before I have a banana.”

“Boring.”

“Lewis eats dry pasta with ranch.”

“Ew. Yours is relatively normal, then.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“You do everything with flare,” she jokes. “I thought your pregame ritual would be appropriately dramatic too.”

I chuckle because she’s not wrong. “What about you? You must have had your own rituals?”

“Twenty minutes of yoga to calm my breathing, a shot of espresso that I had to sneak past my coach and a vitamin B tablet.”

My brows lift. “Why vitamin B?”

“I had a cold once and my mom force-fed it to me. I felt like I was dying but I won?—”

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