Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love #1)(75)

“Was she pretty?”

“No, it wasn’t that. She rushes up to this guy at the bar, and he picks her up and swings her around, then kisses her. Like, really lays one on her. People around them hooted and clapped. They sat down and ordered drinks but barely drank them. They just kept smiling, leaning in, and touching each other’s faces. You know what I saw when I looked at them?”

“What?”

“Joy. Pure rapture. It’s as if no one else was in that room but them, you know? Not the customers. Not the bartender or servers. Then before I knew it, fifteen minutes have passed, and the coaches are waiting for me to answer a question I never heard . . .”

“What were you thinking about?”

His arms tighten around me. “You and me. Imagining us as that couple. It wasn’t hard.”

“Oh . . .” My heart leaps with hope. The man wants me. He cares. And he got me this job. (Yes, Lois told me this week.) He traces a hand down my spine, his fingers circling the small of my back. “I needed the break from Blue Belle so I could think. Seeing you sick, on one hand, reminded me of how scary it is to have someone, but later . . . I thought about how fleeting life is and . . .” He pauses, his chest rising. “And maybe, I don’t know, that I needed to reassess everything I’ve been telling myself for the past few years.”

We stand there silently as I soak in his words. I hear the fear, but I also hear courage. Irrepressible happiness washes over me, emotion clogging my throat. I press closer to him, digging in, and he sighs, running his hands through my hair.

“I’m really scared, Nova,” he whispers.

“Life will always be scary. It’s better when you do it with someone.”

His hands tilt my face up, and his thumbs graze my lips. I lean into the touch, and he presses his forehead to mine. “I don’t want to hurt you, but when I see you”—he brushes his lips over mine—“you break down all my walls.”

“My adorable beast, we’ll take it one day at a time.” I will crush those walls.

His throat bobs. “You’ll take a chance on me?”

Yes, yes, a million times. I nod.

He gives me a wide smile, then brushes his nose with mine. “Hey, it’s good to see you.”

“You too,” I murmur.

He winces. “Guess I blew up back there, huh?”

“It was spectacular. Let’s do that every week.”

He grunts. “I can’t stand him near you, Nova. If he touches you one more time, I’m going to beat his ass.”

I shiver. “I like you all growly, but I made myself clear.”

“No more closets for you and Andrew. I fucking mean it.”

That glow inside me flares bright.

Yes, being with Ronan comes with risks. He’s afraid to accept love, to reach out and grasp it . . .

And he’s leaving.

But . . .

I want to touch the stars, even if I get burned.

“Do you believe in possibilities?” I ask.

He studies my face for several moments. “Yes.”

“That’s all I needed to know.” I graze the rose over his crotch.

He grins. “You really do dig yellow roses.”

“And the man who gave them to me.”

“This ‘thing’ between us is crazy,” he says, a bit of wonder in his voice.

“I happen to embrace crazy,” I murmur.

“Come here.” He pulls us over and leans against the table in the closet, positioning me between his legs. We hold each other.

“Where’s the team?” I ask.

“Skeeter took them out so I could find you.”

“And you marched in like a caveman.”

“I marched in like Han Solo.”

“God. You need to get over Star Wars. There are other movies.”

“Come over to the dark side, Princess.” He slants his mouth over mine. “Did you lock the door out there?” he breathes in between kisses.

“No clue.”

“I don’t care,” he says as he unbuttons the top of my dress, revealing my blue lace bra. He bends down and sucks my nipple through the fabric as my hands curl around his head, clutching him.

“I’m not having period sex with you,” I say as he tugs the material down. His fingers strum one nipple, tugging it, as he flicks his tongue over the other. My head spins at the desire that rushes over me.

“Whatever you say,” he mumbles as he uses his mouth, plucking, dragging his teeth over me.

“I mean it,” I say, a lack of conviction in my voice.

His laughter rumbles against my skin as he pushes my dress down to my waist. “I’ll clean us up afterwards, babe.”

“That’s just gross.”

Heat jolts through me as he cups both of my breasts in his hands and pushes them together, his tongue tracing their outlines, skimming his mouth from one to the other. Soft, then hard.

“We really need to talk about this babe thing, darling,” I push out through heavy breaths. “You’re saying it to annoy me—”

“You stop adorable, and I’ll stop babe.” He laughs against my skin, and I laugh with him, leaning back to give him more room.

“Coach?” comes from somewhere in the hall.