Page 35 of The Run Option

“Thank you,” she whispers and starts to pull away, but I stop her.

“Everyone is watching, and it would probably be weird if I didn’t kiss my fiancée.” She stiffens. “May I kiss you on the cheek?”

“Oh,” she breathes out. “Yes, that’s fine.”

I pull back and meet her eyes. Their soft gray color reminds me of fog rolling over my pasture first thing in the morning. I brush a strand of hair away from her cheekbone, then press a soft kiss there. Her skin is warm and smooth. The thought of trailing kisses from that spot down to her mouth, then to her neck, has my blood heating. I clench my jaw and take a step back.

Willow stares up at me, looking–if I’m not mistaken–a little dazed. A smile pulls at my lips.

“Sit with me on the bus?” I ask in a low tone.

She nods, then whispers, “Okay.”

The uncertainty I felt earlier begins to melt away. The moment we just shared was easy, natural. Maybe buried beneath all her logical reasons for marrying me, there’s a little seed of attraction there, just needing some nurturing to make it grow. My smile widens. I can do that. I’ll water that tiny seed with affection and kindness until it grows into something more. What that will look like, I don’t know. It feels too ambitious to say love, but hey, a guy can hope.

Chapter sixteen

Willow Delmont

Jason smells good. Like really,reallygood. He’s alsosowarm. Maybe all that muscle makes him a human heater. His thigh is pressed against mine, and it feels like I’m pressed against a radiator. A firm, toned radiator. I should have come up with an excuse for sitting somewhere else on the bus, but it’s very difficult to do that when he’s my fiancé and I’m supposed to want to be all over him.

After he kissed me earlier, I wanted to run away. Maybe dunk my head in one of the steel tubs we use for ice baths. Instead, I’m forced to sit next to him in a too-small seat, with all six feet and eight inches of him crammed against the window. I might as well be in his lap with how close we are. We don’t even have to fake anything. The seats do all the work. Most of the guys have their own row, but engaged couples wouldn’t sit separately, so here we are sandwiched together.

“Are you sure you don’t want the aisle seat?” I murmur, hoping to not be heard in the quiet bus. Most of the guys are relaxing right now. Usually the bus ride starts off quiet, then escalatesto a roar about mid-way through, only to calm back down as all the guys start to get in ‘the zone.’ Even though we go to the hotel before heading to the stadium, they treat entering enemy territory seriously.

“Are you being nice to me right now? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this engagement has gone to your head,” Jason teases.

I roll my eyes, but feel my face getting warm. He’s not as far off as I wish he’d be. I still think he’s obnoxious and over-the-top, but he’s also stepped up over the past few days. Also, it’s hard to be angry at a man who’s paying for my grandmother’s medical bills and helping me stay in the country. I can hold a grudge, but I’m notthatstrong.

“This is why I’m not nice to you, because it goes toyourhead,” I shoot back and he smirks down at me.

“I’m fine where I am, but thank you for asking,” he says, answering my earlier question. “If you need to get up to film any content, I don’t want you to have to climb over me.” He pauses, a wolfish grin stretching his lips. “On second thought–”

I hit his arm to cut him off. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls and unbidden heat curls deep in my abdomen at the words. Why does he have to sound like a rakish cowboy? It’s annoying(ly hot).

“What am I going to do with you?” I mumble under my breath, then immediately regret it when I see the mischievous sparkle in his green eyes.

“I can think of a few things.” Can a person die from blushing too much? If so, I’m flirting with death here.Not death, just Jason Kingsley.Though they feel like one and the same.

I shake my head, trying my hardest to look annoyed. “If only I could switch seats right now.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and tugs me closer to him. “But you can’t. You’re stuck with me, Mrs. Kingsley. For better or worse.”

My stomach swoops at the use of my future last name. I’d given thought to not changing it, but it wouldn’t look good if I didn’t.Willow Jane Kingsley…it doesn’t sound bad. It’s the kind of name a girl would write in swirling cursive while staring at the dreamy quarterback in English class.

I pinch his side. He jolts a little. “Emphasis on theworse.”

“There’s my fiancée. I was worried for a second you’d lost your edge.”

I go to pinch him again, but he catches my hand with the one that isn’t around me. I’m wrapped up in him. Much too close for comfort, and just close enough for desire to heat my blood. His large hand wraps around my wrist while his other arm holds me against his side. Can he feel my pulse hammering?

Our eyes lock and I’ve forgotten the mechanics of breathing. Suddenly the simple act ofinandoutis written in a foreign language. I’m lost in his gaze, wandering through their green depths like I’m on a trail through a lush forest.

“What are you going to do now, Lo?” he asks in a low, gravelly tone.

I swallow, my mouth dry. “Lo?” I whisper.

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