Page 95 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“First,”––he passes me the ball and steps closer––“you can’t back out if I win.”

“I would never––”

“Promise me.”

With less than a foot between us, I take in the little laugh lines framing his eyes and the way the outdoor lighting casts shadows on his face while highlighting his strong jaw and sexy smirk. I swear, the guy’s too attractive for his own good. Cocky. Confident. Playful. It’s like he’s baiting me. Like he’s already playing a game, though I haven’t quite figured out the rules yet. And damn him, he knows me too well. He knows I’m curious. He knows I’m never one to back down from a challenge. He knows he has me right where he wants me.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” I cross my arms, grateful for the basketball keeping Theo from coming too close. “What do you want if you win?”

“If I win, I get to kiss you.”

29

BLAKELY

I feel like my heart is about two seconds from pounding out of my ribcage it’s beating so hard. But after our conversation about relationships and hockey and hypothetical futures, it’s a lot. The idea of kissing Theo. Of letting him kiss me. Especially when it’s under the guise of a freaking bet.

Tugging the brim of his hat a little lower on my head while praying it’ll hide my blush, I say, “Friends don’t kiss friends.”

“I don’t want to be friends, Blake.”

My eyes widen in surprise, the memory of Missy’s lips against Theo’s cheek still fresh in my mind.

“Teddy,” I warn.

“Just calling it like it is, Blake.”

My breathing is shallow as I try to get a grip on what the hell is going on between us. The silence only heightens everything else. How close he’s standing. How sweet he’s been today, despite our run-in with one of his past conquests. How good he smells. What I bet he’d taste like if I rose onto my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. Like Orange Crush, probably.

His attention drops to my mouth, and I bite the inside of my cheek. “I––” The words catch in my throat. I don’t know what to say. Because this is dangerous. My feelings for Theo. His feelings for me. Especially when my internship’s on the line.

Shifting the ball from my stomach to my hip, I ask, “And if I win?”

He steps even closer. My chest brushes against his, causing my nipples to tighten as I peek up at him.

“What do you want?” he murmurs, his voice low and throaty while still managing to be playful and…

Is he baiting me again?

Oh, how weighted the question is.

I want a lot of things. I want to read Theo’s mind. I want to know if he’s seeing the real me or how many different ways this scenario could play out. I want to know if he’s really thought this through or if he’s being impulsive. I want to know if he’s delusional or if I’m delusional for even considering agreeing to kiss him.

Yeah. I want a lot of things.

“Blake?” he prods, his hand slipping around my waist, the same confident smirk teasing the corner of his lips.

“I don’t know what to say. We agreed––”

“I lied.”

“Theo––”

“I want more than friends.”

“But Colt––”

“I’ve already talked to him. He’s okay with it.”

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