He told me he’d give me space. He told me he wouldn’t get in my way. And that’s all he’sdone.
The most frustrating part is, I don’t even know if I want him to give me space anymore.
When the Dean finishes his spiel, Jamie stands and shakes his hand. I stay seated for a moment, collecting my thoughts. Then, I stand quietly and walk out the door without another word.
I feel Jamie’s presence behind me as I enter the empty hallway. Stopping abruptly, I turn around to face him, ready to set my terms for this damn arrangement I’m being forced into.
Before I can get a word out though, he says, “So,” he says in a low tone that sends a shiver down my spine. “Guess we’re a team again.”
The way he says again makes my heart stutter.
“This is professional,” I say sternly.
His mouth curves into a sly smile. He’s enjoying this way too much. Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he chuckles.
“Sure, yeah. Professional.”
I roll my eyes. “We can coordinate via email. I’ll send over the outline.” That way, I don’t have to spend more time with him in person and risk anything happening between us that I’ll later regret.
Jamie leans back against the wall, arms crossed. “No. We won’t.”
My pulse jumps. “Excuse me?”
“You want this to work?” he asks. “We meet. In person. No miscommunication.”
I bristle. “I’m perfectly capable of—”
“This is my program,” he cuts in. “My players. If your department’s name is attached, I need to know exactly what you’re expecting from us.”
I search his face for sarcasm, for provocation but find neither. He’s taking this seriously.
“Fine. Tomorrow,” I tell him. “Auditorium. Ten a.m. But no funny business.”
Jamie’s eyes flick to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. My stomach flips.
“I’ll be there.”
The butterflies in my stomach let loose as I watch the smirk on his face turn into a grin. All of this would be so much better if I actually hated the man. I wouldn’t have to worry about feelings or attraction.
Unfortunately for me, I don’t hate him. I don’t know if I everreally did.
Chapter 18
Jamie
Iwatch her hips sway as she walks down the hallway to the auditorium. She’s not happy with this little arrangement, and honestly, I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m pissed that Ashby didn’t let us know about this whole thing earlier. On the other hand, this will force Ellie and I to work together, spend more time together, learn more about the people we are now.
That could either be a good thing or a really, really bad thing. I don’t know what to think. I’m not good for her, I know that. She deserves someone who isn’t such a fucking mess. Someone who has their shit together. Someone who hasn’t already broken her heart once.
But fuck, do I want her.
It’s selfish as hell, and I don’t care. I can’t stop it. Every time I look at her, my body remembers what she tasted like, the way she smelled when she was warm and undone, the sounds she made when she stopped holding herself back. My mouth remembers what it felt like to kiss her. My dick remembers what it felt like to be buried inside her.
She’s slowly overtaking all of my thoughts and my focus, and working together so closely isn’t going to help matters. But it’s not like I can tell Ashby to go fuck himself. I do enjoy the coaching gig, and I’d rather not get canned. So I have to do this. We have to work together, and I have to rein in my thoughts and feelings towards her and stay professional.
Against my better judgement, I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up her contact.
Ellie Monroe
