Page 102 of The Wingman

But he’s so hot. He’s the popular jock who could have anyone. I’m the weird girl who likes math, who got fired, and who was never quite right for my ex. I blink, scrambling for a way to explain this without sounding pathetic. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?”

“I’m not your type. You’re so—” I shake myself, thoughts cluttered and murky.

“I’m so what?”

My heart gallops, thundering in my ears. “You can have anyone.”

“I hate hearing you say that,” he says quietly. “You know why I dated women who look nothing like you?”

Speechless, I shake my head.

“Because I didn’t want to be reminded of you. Because I was trying to convince myself I didn’t have feelings for you.” His Adam’s apple slides up and down as he swallows, pupils blown wide. “It never worked, though. My thoughts always wander back to you.”

My mind reels; I’m light-headed, dizzy, my thoughts racing and pinwheeling, grasping for purchase. This makes no sense. This is a hallucination. I slipped and hit my head outside the restaurant, and at any second, I’ll open my eyes to Hayden,Alexei, Georgia, and the paramedics bent over me as I lie on the sidewalk.

“You’re my type,” Hayden says like it hurts him. “More than anyone.” His head drops to my shoulder, and he takes a deep inhale, his fist coming to the wall beside my head on his shaky exhale. “I want you, Darcy,” he murmurs against my neck, and I shiver. “I want you so bad I can’t stay away. If you want things to stay the way they are, you need to leave my bedroom right now.”

I don’t care that we’re best friends. I don’t care that this is going to massively complicate everything. I just need him to touch me, right now, do something with this intense pressure he’s created between my legs.

I need to see what it would be like with us. Just once.

I flatten a hand on Hayden’s chest, feeling the gallop of his heartbeat. His eyes burn me, helpless but dark with lust.

“I don’t want things to stay the way they are,” I whisper, and his mouth crashes to mine.

CHAPTER 48

DARCY

Hayden claimsmy mouth with an urgency that scrambles all my thoughts.

“No more double dates,” he says against my lips, and I nod.

His fingers sink into my hair, and mine into his. All the frustration radiating off him is refocused into something sharper and hotter as he coaxes my lips open and strokes inside, exploring and tasting.

He presses me against the wall. I think I moan. If this is a mistake, it’s the best one I ever made.

“God, yes,” he groans when he gently sucks on the tip of my tongue. “No more dates at all. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

We’re not making out for practice or to send a message to some actor I’m not interested in. He’s not showing me the ropes anymore or testing to see if I’m a good enough kisser.

We’re doing this because we want to. Because we can’t stand it anymore. Because we need to see what happens next. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I’m a willing participant, allowing Hayden to take what he wants.

Which is me, from the way his thick erection presses intomy stomach. The realization thrills me and a shiver runs down my back.

“Cold?” he murmurs between kisses.

I shake my head, and he catches my bottom lip between his teeth. “Good.”

This kiss is different from the first time, like a switch has flipped inside Hayden. He’s lit up, focused, driven—it’s the samesomething differentthat’s been simmering under the surface for weeks now, lifting its head during games when he scores goals.

With a hand at the hem of my top, he drags a fingertip over the sliver of bare skin between it and my jeans, and my entire focus narrows to where he touches me.

“Take this off.”

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