Page 45 of Cross the Line

It wasn’t even that scandalous. He was fully clothed, and yet I wasn’t sure he’d ever looked hotter. I took another pull from my water bottle as if that would help cool me down.

Even though I’d just seen Carson yesterday morning, it felt like so much longer. And while part of me worried I was getting attached, the other, hornier, part of me couldn’t seem to care. Because I was buzzing.

I drank Carson in, eyes pinging from his messy hair to his glasses. As if that cocky little smirk on his face weren’t hot enough, he was wearing my jersey. It was my name emblazoned across his back, as he glanced at me over his shoulder. And my brain seemed to think that meant he was mine, mine, mine. At least, that’s what my mind kept chanting.

I took a shaky breath and continued my downward perusal even though I knew it was dangerous. Gray sweatpants that covered a sculpted ass I was tempted to zoom in on but wouldn’t. Strong thighs.

He called me KT because he said I was his kryptonite. But seeing this photo, I was pretty sure he might be mine.

No. No. No. I hit the button, forcing the screen to go dark so I couldn’t see the image anymore.

Friends, I reminded myself. Just friends.

I took another swig of water, debating my response. When I reopened my text messages, the image of him was still there, haunting me with the possibilities. I saved the photo to my phone before tapping out a reply.

Maybe it was my fatigue, maybe it was the holiday spirit or my conversation last night with Georgia. Maybe it was the way Carson was always there for me, supporting me. Whatever the reason, something inside me cracked.

I bit my lip, knowing this might be crossing a line. But fuck it.

Me: I know the jersey was your present, but this feels more like a gift for me.

Trouble: Don’t say things like that, KT, unless you mean them.

Me: I always say what I mean and mean what I say.

Trouble: You’re killing me.

Me: You’re one to talk.

Trouble: Can I call you? Please.

It was the “please” that did me in.

Me: I’m at the airport, and my flight boards soon.

Me: But yes. You can call me.

I accepted Carson’s call and popped in my earbuds.

“Hey.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I smiled in response. Almost as if it were a reflex, something automatic and completely out of my control. I am so screwed.

I shifted in my seat, unable to fight a smile of my own. “Hey.”

“How was the party?”

“Fun,” I said, grinning at how ridiculous my teammates had been. It had been exactly what we’d needed.

“It looked like it,” he said, and I knew from his comment that he’d been going through my Snaps. I’d posted some of those pictures specifically because I’d hoped he’d look at them. I’d wanted him to see them, see me, even if it had taken being buzzed to finally admit that to myself.

I laughed, feeling a little self-conscious about it now that it was the morning after. “It maybe got a little out of hand.”

The body shots had been a tad excessive, but it was better than truth or dare. No fucking way was I playing that after the stories Bryn had told me about her sister and her friends.

He chuckled, something rustling in the background. “I guess I’m not the only one who likes to push boundaries.” The way his voice dropped made me wonder what other boundaries he liked to push.

“Are you in bed?” I asked, pushing a boundary of my own.

Friends didn’t ask friends if they were in bed. Okay, maybe the problem was more that I was imagining him there. And it wasn’t the first time.