End Game (Bellevue Bullies 4)

“I mean, I feel you’re winning. Most people wouldn’t have stopped their run.”

“Well, since I hate running and I have this amazing background in first aid, I can save pretty girls who fall running.”

I narrow my eyes, and I ignore the fact that he hates running. “I didn’t fall. I tripped.”

“Oh, my bad.” His face is bright, his cheeks red and his eyes so dark. “Gorgeous girls who trip while running. I’m qualified to save them.”

My heart skips a beat, and my gut does a stupid girly twist as I look away. “That’s still up for debate.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I take a deep breath, and I hate myself for chancing a glance at him. He’s watching me, and he still has his hand out, ready to catch me if I fall. I almost want to test him, but I know that would be a terrible idea. His shoulders are even more massive from where I am standing. He’s dripping with sweat, and I’d thought those eyes of his were brighter with glasses on, but I don’t think it matters. They’re just as heavenly a blue all the time even without the dark rims.

Which is so damn bad.

“Do you always run in the mornings?”

I look away. “I have been. Why are you out? No one is ever out at this time.”

“I have practice at five and then classes at seven. I don’t want to miss my cardio time.”

“Oh. That’s early.”

“I could say the same to you. Why are you out?”

“My days start early. I want to hit the gym before my classes so I don’t have to work out in the afternoons and I can just train.”

“Smart.”

“I tried to get Amelia to come—”

I pause at his laughter. “She doesn’t run.”

“I’ve realized that, but I told her it’s good for her.”

“Oh, you can tell her that all day. I’ve been trying to get her to suffer with me for years. She won’t do it. She probably doesn’t need to either. She’s so fit.”

“Right? Not an ounce of fat on her!”

He nods in agreement as I continue, “It’s really annoying. I carry all mine in my ass, you know what I mean?”

He sputters with laughter, his eyes teasing, and I glare. Though, my grin probably says I’m not offended at all. “Are you making fun of my ass?”

“Oh no,” he says quickly. “That ass of yours is nothing to joke about. Worship is more like it.”

Stupid heart. “I’ve never had a guy worship my ass.”

“Yeah, you have.”

“I haven’t!”

He gives me a sly grin. “You just don’t know it.”

His eyes sparkle, and I can’t stop my lips from curving before I look away, limping toward the massive house now only a few feet away. I have heard stories of this house, how the best parties are held here. Seeing it up close, I don’t think it looks like a party house full of dudes. It looks classy, nice. Well kept.

When we reach the stairs that lead up to the front door, I go to take the first step when his hand comes into mine. Ryan laces his fingers with mine. He presses his hand into my palm, and my heart stops. Dead in my chest. “Careful now.”

I don’t know if he felt the jolt of heat run up his arm, but mine is on fire.

Oh hell.