In the Crease (Connecticut Commodores #3)

18. Ryan

18

RYAN

If someone had asked me to put odds on Nica Solance standing in my driveway tonight, I’d have said less than zero. I’d still have bet hard against it, all the way up to six little words.

All I fucking want is you .

That was the last of my fight against reason. The kill shot to any doubts or hold-outs I had about falling for her. Damn her job, and fuck what anyone else thought. Fuck what I thought about all this media bullshit. There were questions to answer and boundaries to set around all that.

But Nica Solance wanted me. And, good god, did I want her.

She glared at my question. “ Worship me? You’re pushing my boundaries. I’m not good at being the center of attention.”

I turned toward the house. “Is that a yes or a no?”

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “That’s a hell yes.”

I laughed. I’d never have put a bet on Nica Solance walking through my door that night. But when I stepped over the threshold, turned, and crooked my finger for her to follow, I knew one thing for sure.

I didn’t want her walking out anytime soon. Maybe ever.