Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (black books to read txt) 📗

His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No. I like you.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You do?”

He bends closer so that our faces are only an inch apart. “Yes.”

“Does Dev know?”

“That’s a pretty weird question to ask right now,” he smiles, “but to answer it, no. I haven’t told your brother yet, because I didn’t know whether I had a chance with you.” His face becomes serious, and he searches my gaze. “Do I?”

As strange as it is, given the years I spent wishing Wyatt would notice me, this question has never crossed my mind. Wyatt has been as unattainable as winning the lottery. I didn’t consider what would happen if he ever showed an interest in me because I believed it could never happen.

Wyatt strokes my hair gently while repeating, “Do I?”

I know Wyatt has already a mistress—the game.

Can I ever compete with that?

Wyatt studies my face with furrowed brows. “Ellie, if you’d rather forget that I said anything, then—”

“No!”

“No?” He smiles.

I shake my head, but my mind jumps back to my brother. What would he think if suddenly his best friend and his sister started dating?

“What are you worried about? Devon?”

How can Wyatt read my mind?

I nod.

“Do you think my buddy might not see me as a suitable guy for you?” he prompts.

“Perhaps. But mostly, I’m worried about pulling the rug from below his feet. Ever since that snake Morgan betrayed him, Dev hasn’t been the same. He’s overworked, tired, and he needs emotional stability with the people who are close to him.”

“Would you rather we don’t tell him about us?”

The way “us” melts on his tongue gives me the most delicious chills. “Yes, at least for now. Would you be okay with keeping this a secret?”

“Sure, whatever makes you feel good,” he answers. Then a cheeky glint creeps into his toffee-colored irises. “Even if there isn’t much to conceal yet. But we could remedy that quickly.”

His eyes dip to my mouth.

A shy smile spreads on my lips, and I nod.

He lifts his hands and cups my cheeks.

For a split second, just like when he held my hand, I’m astonished by how perfectly my jaw fits into his palms.

He leans in and brushes his lower lip against mine softly as if asking permission. I reach up to his hair and run my fingers through his thick mane.

A soft moan leaves his throat, and he hauls me to him.

His mouth closes on mine, and my brain goes numb.

But only my brain. The rest of my body lights up with a weird tingling—similar to the tiny explosions of the Pop Rocks candies Hope adores.

Only, the sizzling sensations aren’t on my tongue but all over.

Wyatt told me the truth. He must have longed to kiss me. Only granting free flow to a suppressed yearning can be this sigh-inducingly sweet and tormenting at the same time.

I close my eyes and get lost in our mingling exhales, letting my mind savor the possibility that perhaps in ten years’ time, we’ll think back on this idiotic frat party theme and joke that it helped us find our magical match in each other.

Chapter 13

(Wyatt)

I’ve just finished clearing off the table from my second morning snack when my doorbell chimes. My heart rate accelerates as I stride to the door.

I know it will be Ellie outside on my porch because she called this morning to say that the air conditioning in her clinic broke down, and I’d proposed we hold today’s meeting at my house.

I take a peek through my security camera and see Ellie, her back to the door, scanning my cul-de-sac. There’s a thick blue folder under her arm.

I turn the lock as quietly as possible because I want to study her without her noticing my ogling.

We’re through three therapy sessions so far, and unfortunately, the more time we spend together the more I feel like a comet imprisoned in a planet’s powerful gravitational pull. My thoughts swirl around Ellie even when we’re not together.

Ellie doesn’t turn when I push the door ajar, so I allow my eyes to feast on the floaty, ankle-length dress she’s wearing. The seersucker fabric has a sunny color, and though the unstructured style looks as comfy as a tracksuit, it’s also hella hot by comparison. The fact that it doesn’t stick to her curves leaves much more room for the imagination.

And I’ve got plenty of that with Ellie.

My latest dream comes to mind, where I’m back in that storage room with Ellie’s body only inches away from mine, but with the small change, where I didn’t stop myself from hauling her close to me—but before my mind can continue down that slippery road, I shake my head.

I must resist her magnetism.

If I make one reckless move, something I was entirely too close to doing in that restaurant, Ellie will back out from our agreement.

Then I can say goodbye to my training camp because Liam won’t have time to find me another therapist (not that I’d want anyone else). Coach Fielding will take my lack of adherence as a sign that I’m not to be trusted, and he’ll promote Jamal to my place.

Besides my career, there’s another aspect at stake.

Working with Ellie is my chance at rebuilding our friendship, and I don’t want to spoil that. I can’t imagine going back to a state where she ignores me. I didn’t realize how much I missed speaking to her, hearing her laugh, or even getting mocked by her, until we started this collaboration.

I fill my lungs slowly to tame the warmth spreading in my belly at the sight of her.

My whole life, I’ve trained myself to renounce things in order to obtain what I genuinely want. I can surely manage this yearning too.

Suddenly, Ellie whips around. Her eyes widen when she sees me in the doorway, but then she smiles. “Good morning, Wyatt.” Her glance wanders to my shoulders, and her eyebrows lift. “What’s with the towel? Don’t tell me a