The Right Move (Windy City, #2)

by Liz Tomforde

“Ever hear the phrase ‘she’s not like other girls’?” He gives a small nod of his head. “Yeah, that’s not me. I’m just like every other chick. As basic as they come. I had an Uggs phase. I had a skinny jeans phase. I like my books with romance, my coffee with more creamer than caffeine, and I even take aesthetic pictures of my food anytime I’m at a restaurant.”

“Stop looking at her,” I warn. “Go hit the showers or get to the airport or just about anything other than look at her. She’s not available.” “So, you are hitting that.” Dom nods in approval. “No, I’m not hitting that. And neither are any of you. Stop looking at her or she’ll be the last thing you ever fucking see.” “Ooooh. Protective Shay is here, and his sister is nowhere to be found. Someone write this date down. History is being made, people. Ryan Shay gives a fuck about someone other than Stevie and something other than basketball.”

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg or something?” “Now that you say it.” She cocks her head to the side, eyes roaming my length. “I wouldn’t mind knowing what you look like on your knees, Shay.” “Indy, please.” “This is ridiculous. We can talk about it when you get home.” “Perfect. Great. All I’m asking for is one night.” “Go get me your key so I can go crash in my new expensive bed.” “What an amazing guy to buy you a bed. Probably makes you want to return a favor. He seems like a wonderful person.” Indy rolls her eyes. “He’s on my shit list at the moment.”

I’m good at reading people. I know how to make them feel comfortable around me. I know how to adjust who I am depending on the person I’m with. As much as I love people, sometimes they suck and what makes them comfortable is for you to appear to be inferior.

I want her here. I want her to want to be here. Fuck, when did that happen?

“I like having you sitting so close.” I laugh. “Ryan, I just caused you to get a technical foul.” Connor makes both of his free throws. “Worth it.” The game continues, everyone’s attention back to the court. Leaning over to Stevie, I speak quietly. “Daily update—I hope your brother wears his jersey when he fucks me.” I pop my shoulders. “Or I could wear it.”

Ryan’s eyes dart between Alex and me again, and maybe it’s the fact that I’m about two seconds away from crying or that he can physically see that I’m living out my worst nightmare, but he drops his gym bag and in a few quick strides, charges towards me. Before I can think any further, his palms cup my face, long fingers threading into my ponytail, and his lips are on mine.