Page 46 of Our Secret Moments

“A jersey,” I say, smiling, knowing it’ll rile him up.

“Right. And whose number is on the back?”

“No ones,” I answer with a shrug. “But I wasconsideringgetting number eighty-two. That’s yours, right?”

His eyes darken and I take a step back, loving the way I’m messing with him. “That’s Sam’s and you know it is. Next time you’reconsideringwearing anyones jersey, you wear one with my number, okay?”

I nod in fake understanding. This man is already so possessive over me. I hate it nearly as much as I love it. “So, I have to come to you for massages and I have to wear your jersey.It seems to me like you’re trying to keep me already, Connie. I hate to break it to you, but I don’t come to these things for you.”

“Is that so?”

I swallow. “Yep. I’m here for the team, not you. You just happen to be a part of it.”

“Are you sure? Because from the way you were whiningmyname and sitting inmylap last week, tells me a very different story. It tells me that you want me, you wantthis,just as much as I do.”

The thickness in his voice causes a deep, heavy want in my lower stomach as he walks closer to me, pressing my back into the wall. My pulse grows erratic, my breathing becoming choppy.

Is he finally going to kiss me? I want him to, so badly. I want to feel the roughness of his mouth against mine, his weight pressing into me like it did last week. I tilt my mouth up to his as he brackets my jaw with his hand, the heat making me grow more desperate by the second.

He leans down.

Finally.

I’m going to quash this desire and get on with my day. Just a taste. Just the smallest amount I can get without going insane and I can continue to live my life just with the thought ofknowingwhat he tastes like. Just a little.

“Cat! Where are you? You need to get your little tush here immediately,” Nora’s loud voice booms. “We can’t do shots without you.”

I sigh, closing my eyes. “I’m going to…” I nod down the hallway where the rest of the guys are.

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs, our lips achingly close.

“But, Nora…. And, you know.” I trip over my words like an idiot and he just continues holding my jaw, smiling at me. That fucking smile. Those fuckinglips.

“Right.” He does nothing to put any space between us. “You don’t want her to think anything is going on, do you?”

“No,” I breathe. “Nothing is going on.”

“Then why aren’t you moving, Catherine?” His lips ghost over mine and I swear I hear myself whimper at the slight contact.

“I’m moving,” I whisper, closing my eyes for a second. I shake my head a little, causing Connor’s hand to fall from my face.

“Yeah,” he teases, “I can see that.”

My legs stay rooted in the spot and for whatever reason, all I can do is stare up at him.Why am I still here?My chest is heaving now, suddenly out of breath. When I still don’t move, Connor makes his decision for me and he presses a quick kiss to my forehead.

My fucking forehead.

And then he has the audacity to say, “I’ll see you, sweetheart,” before leaving me still plastered to the wall.

Fuck. My. Life.

After a few drinks and avoiding Connor like the plague, Elle and I are already tipsy, wandering around Oliver’s house. It’s like a maze in here – a beautifully crafted, privileged maze that I never want to escape from. Of course, we weren’t allowed to wander unattended because he’s a control freak and insisted on giving us a tour instead.

I pick up a large picture frame on a random coffee table in the middle of one of the hallways on the second floor. There’s nothing inside it, not even a stock photo. It’s just a pure gold frame with sparkles on diamonds edged into it. “What’s this?” I ask.

“Nothing. Put it back,” he demands. The tone in his voice makes me giggle. Oliver is one of the sweetest guys on the team – he’s usually quiet, a little reserved and has the most common sense out of all of them, next to Connor of course. “Eleanor! You can’t touch that.”

I turn to see Elle standing next to a teetering photo on the wall. It’s fucking massive – at least twice the size of us. It’s one of those weird oil paintings that you have to look atreallyhard to understand what it is. Elle has always had an eye for art and photography, so she’s clearly interested.

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