Page 45 of The Girlfriend Zone

But she lets go of my collar, wraps her hands around my head, and jerks me closer to her chest.

Fuck yes.

I groan against her skin and kiss her more—the hollow of her throat, the dip of her collarbone, the side of her neck. Her jaw next, grazing my teeth along it, before I meet her lips again.

One more shot, I tell myself.

One for the road.

I raise my face and then drop my lips more gently onto hers. This is me hitting the brakes. I slow down as our mouths meet again and run my fingers along her arms, savoring one last kiss.

Then I let go.

We’re both panting.

Eyes are glazed.

Windows are fogged.

I’ve already gone further than I should.

I shoot her a rueful half-smile, then do what I should have earlier instead of giving in to this wild need that inhabits me when I’m near her. “We probably shouldn’t be alone together again.” I somehow manage to choke out the words, hating each one.

“No,” Leighton says. “We definitely shouldn’t.”

She sounds resolute. Thank god, because I’m sure as hell not.

“Yeah,” I say dryly. “I guess you’re more than a little irresistible.” I lift my thumb and forefinger to show a sliver of space.

The callback to earlier makes her chuckle. “You too.”

The words warm my chest. Leighton lifts a hand and slides a thumb along my jaw, brushing over my stubble before letting go and picking up my glasses. “Here you go.”

I slide them back on and blow out a breath. “Bye, Leighton,” I say, then shake my head, frustrated with myself. “And I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For breaking our…deal not to do this again.”

Her sigh is heavy and a little wistful. “I broke it too. Things happen.”

She’s letting me off easy, but I’ll take it. “I guess they do.”

“We’ll make a new promise,” she says.

“That we won’t be alone together.” I offer my hand to seal the agreement—and to test whether I can touch her without pulling her into my arms.

She shakes my hand, proving it’s possible. “Good night, Falcon.”

“Good night, Shutterbug.”

She collects her bags and climbs out of the car, heading to her building. At the door, she gives a brief wave goodbye before going inside.

I don’t leave right away. I sit behind the wheel. Drag a hand through my hair. Stare out the window while I replay the night.

Finally, I go too.

When I get home, I call my brother and refocus on my responsibilities—to the team, to my family, to myself. And…to the coach. I won’t let them down. It’s time to move forward. That’s the only way I know.

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