Page 18 of Ready to Snap
“You, Will Darling, are full of surprises. That’s really sweet.” The compliment slips from me a little too easily, but I don’t take it back.
He reaches over and squeezes my thigh once, then returns his hand to the wheel. Part of me wishes he’d kept it there and disappointment swirls in my gut. To distract myself, I click on the delivery app and preoccupy myself with ordering dinner. Once the order confirmation pops up on the screen, I glance up; we’re stuck in traffic in Tribeca.
“Almost there,” he notes. “Did you get it all ordered?”
“Yeah. It says fifty minutes.”
A small smirk briefly tilts his lips. “Our pizza may beat us if we don’t move soon.”
Thankfully, after twenty minutes, we make it to his apartment building. He swipes his card and pulls into the underground garage, which is filled with cars worth more than double my annual salary. A few of the players live here, but I’ve never seen more than the outside of the building. With how posh this place is, there’s no way in hell I could ever invite him to mine.
I reach for the door handle, but Will stops me, his face now mere inches from mine. “What do you think you’re doing, gorgeous?” He doesn’t move away, his hungry brown eyes falling to my lips.
Fuck it.
I can’t help wanting to know what his mouth tastes like. Itisn't as if I can blame the drinks—I’m practically sober after the long drive.
A soft moan escapes me the moment our lips touch. Sweet caramel and vanilla from the bourbon. Will Darling tastes like a fucking dessert. I’m so fucking screwed. How the hell am I supposed to see him later this week, knowing how soft his lips are or how delicious he tastes?
I quickly pull back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
He gently grips my throat and brings my mouth back to his. It’s rough, full of fire, and demanding, no different than past few years of him fighting me. It’s as if all of the pent-up frustration—all the prodding between us—led to this one moment. Unlike our usual give-and-take banter, I give, and let him take whatever he wants from me.
“Stay put,” Will mutters against my lips, then breaks what is easily one of the best kisses of my life. Without another word, he hops out of the truck and rounds it to open my door. As he offers his hand, I freeze. “When I said to stay put, I didn’t mean forever.”
“You kissed me.”
“You kissed me first,” he chuckles.
“I… I did. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
As he takes a step closer, his hand still poised expectantly, I bite my lip. “You’re right. I’m not.” I slide my hand into his and step out of the truck. He leads us inside, fingers interlaced, not letting go. “What if someone sees?”
“They won’t believe I was able to score a woman like you. They’ll assume you’re holding my hand out of pity, and assume I had a death in the family.”
“They will not.” I playfully smack his shoulder with my free hand, and he winces. I suck in a breath. “Fuck! I’m so sorry! I forgot that’s where you got hit today.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“I promise.” He winks, and I both love and hate that it makes my stomach woosh every time.
“Okay, but I’m serious. What if someone catches us?”
“First thing tomorrow morning, I’m scheduling an appointment with HR. I won’t tell them about everything that happened tonight, but…”
I stop us in our tracks a few feet from the elevator. “But what?”
“For years I’ve wanted a shot with you.” He tucks a couple of rogue tendrils behind my ear, making my heart stop. “Even if you’re not sure about this going anywhere, I am. They have a right to know what my intentions are, and I want to protect your job.”
“And what exactly are your intentions?”
His sweet smile reaches his eyes. “To be yours.”
In all of the books Nora and I have read, it doesn’t matter if it’s the broody billionaire or the cinnamon roll boy next door, they all have one thing in common: the guyalwaysgets the girl. Will is no different—a man who always gets what he wants. It’s part of what makes him such a great athlete. But this? He’s not asking me to be his. He wants to be…mine?
