Only When It's Us (Bergman Brothers #1)(94)

“You first.” Ryder lofts the ball my way. I catch it on my thigh, drop it immediately to the ground, then take off. “Shit, Sunshine!”

A laugh barrels out of me. Ryder drops, his insane quads flexing as his body takes a defensive stance. His legs are a little wide, so I try for a nutmeg, to thread the ball between them. He anticipates this, dropping his shin and catching it, then immediately pulling a Maradona that yanks it back from me.

“Asshole,” I mutter.

“You thought you could ’meg me, Willa?”

I shove him. He doesn’t budge.

“Keep it clean, Sunshine.”

He’s ribbing me. Provoking me. His feet hover over the ball, his stance is cocky and confident. I lunge for it and he bypasses me, nailing a shot into the goal.

I stare at the net, then slowly swivel my gaze to him. “Beginner’s luck.”

His grin is wider than the field. “Whatever you say.”

That does it. I leave the net with the ball, pulling it out to the top of what would be the box if it were painted on the grass. Ryder drops again, and this time I don’t focus on his killer legs. I see the whole space and I do something ballsy. I fake left, then lunge right, chipping the ball over his shoulder. Ryder’s caught in the direction I faked him as I slice by, trapping the ball on my chest down to my thigh, where I boot it into the net.

Ryder’s eyes dart from the net to me. “Damn. That was sexy.”

I bite my lip to fight a smile. “And to think I’m just getting started.”

We play for a long time. I get a few goals past him, but Ryder’s formidable. He’s fast and he’s physical. He also has nine inches and seventy-five pounds on me, which helps.

I’m tired. My thighs shake from exertion and Ryder’s drenched in sweat. Our play gets rougher, touches increase, and our bodies grow closer. I’m practically sitting on his lap, Ryder’s large hand against my thigh as I hold the ball out, shielding it from his foot’s reach.

Thunder rumbles a ways off. Ryder peers up to the sky, then down to me. “Last goal.”

I whistle. It’s my possession. We’re tied. If I score this, I win. I shift slightly, and Ryder’s right up against me, goal-side. Perfect defending. His body’s low, his center of gravity exactly as it should be. He feels like a wall I’ll never get past. Every time I’ve gotten by has felt miraculous. I can’t even think about what tricks I have left.

“What’s she going to do?” I whisper, peering at him over my shoulder. We’re both dripping with sweat, Ryder’s jaw’s tight. “You called last goal, Bergman. What’s it going to be?” His fist tightens on my shirt as I send my ass right into his groin.

“You tell me, Willa.” He sends his hips back into me, making my eyes flutter for just a moment before they snap open. “It’s your call, how this ends. I’ve done what I could.”

Suddenly, air rushes out of my lungs as our eyes lock. We aren’t talking about this little competition. We aren’t talking about a friendly one-on-one game.

“No, we’re not.” His head dips closer. I can smell the perfect scent of his sweat. Heat pours off his body.

“I said that out loud,” I whisper.

He nods. “Do what you have to do, Willa, but please just do it already. Put me out of my misery.”

Tears well in my eyes as I straighten my spine. Trailing the ball left, I lean into him. I lean so hard that if he pulled back, I’d fall on my ass, and he knows it. He could let me tumble in the grass, rip the ball off of me and score, no problem.

But he doesn’t.

“You could let me bite it right now.”

“I know,” he grits out.

I shove into him again. “Why don’t you?”

He shakes his head, his hands tightening around my waist. “Because it’s a dirty move. There’s trust. You lean into me, and I lean back.”

I glance up at him and feel stupid tears spill down my cheeks.

His body stills. Rain sweeps across the grass, fine and warm. It dapples Ryder’s cheeks, clumps his eyelashes. I kick the ball away and spin before my fists find his shirt, then squeeze tight. “I don’t want the last word right now. I don’t want to win. And that’s not normal.”

Ryder exhales shakily, his eyes searching mine.

“I want what you want,” I tell him, loud and clear, slow and sure. I don’t want him to miss a word I say. “All-in, fair and square. I want to be afraid with you rather than fearless and alone. Only when it’s us.”

Ryder’s hands are vise grips on my waist.

“Because I love you, Ryder Bergman. I’m scared shitless to say it, but I love you. I love you, and I always will.”

Air rushes out of his lungs as Ryder crushes me to him. “Willa,” he mutters into my hair. One long kiss to my curls, as he breathes in, then sighs. “I love you.”

I kiss over his heart, reach for his neck. Kisses there too. I want to kiss him everywhere. I want him to feel how much he means to me. I want to make up for so much lost time.

“I love you,” he says again, his lips soft along my neck. “I have since you glared up at me and looked like you wanted to roast my skin for dinner.”

A wet, gunky laugh bursts out of me, as the rain picks up. It’s highly unromantic, how hellish I look. My hair’s plastered to my head, snot dripping down my nose. My eyes are red. I’m an ugly crier.