Page 110 of On His Team

For days, Rowan has been making me nervous because he knows I like him. He has smiled at me while I embarrassed myself and watched me walk into rooms with the calm confidence of someone who knows something I don’t.

This is better.

I move again, loving the way he feels under me. My body lights up. His hands tighten against my waist, and I love how firm he’s being.

“Are you nervous?” I tease.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You look nervous.”

“I don’t.”

I lean closer. “You feel nervous.”

That makes him laugh, but it comes out lower than usual.

My stomach drops pleasantly.

Oh.

There he is.

I kiss him again.

This time Rowan’s hands slip beneath the bottom of my shirt. Warm palms against bare skin. He stops there. Doesn’t move higher. Doesn’t try anything else. The restraint is somehow hotter than if he hadn’t stopped.

I pull my mouth from his. “You can touch me.”

His eyes meet mine. “I am.”

He kisses me again instead. His thumbs move slowly over the skin at my waist, and my whole body seems to concentrate itself into those two points of contact. I have hooked up with guys before. I’ve kissed people I barely knew because they were attractive and I was bored and the night was fun.

This does not feel like that.

I know the hands touching me. I’ve watched them cook, tape sticks, type on his laptop, carry three plates at once because nobody else could be bothered to make two trips. I know the laugh in my mouth. I know how he sounds when he’s tired and how he looks when he’s listening even if he hasn’t said anything for five minutes.

There is too much person attached to every part of this. I kiss him harder. His hand slides farther up my back. Then my brother’s voice carries through the floor.

“—I told you, Aspen said Michigan gave up two in the third—”

My entire body locks. I am sitting on Rowan’s lap with both hands in his hair.

I feel Rowan’s laugh before I hear it. His chest moves against mine and then he drops his forehead onto my shoulder, trying and failing to keep quiet.

I look at him.

He laughs harder.

“This is not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“My brother is downstairs.”