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I'll want more.

And that's when the thought hits me. Maybe I don’t have to sleep with her to feel possessive. Maybe I already do.

Fuck.

I've watched this happen. I've had a front-row seat to it for years.

Dane.

Koa.

Luca.

Tank.

Noah.

Half my fucking Rovers, one after another.

Men who were perfectly functional human beings until one particular woman walked into their lives and suddenly everything changed.

Priorities shifted.

Plans changed.

Homes became their homes.

Futures became their futures.

These men didn't just fall in love. They built their lives around it.

Around her.

Their person. Their partner. The woman they chose above everyone else.

And I've watched the whole damn thing from the outside, quietly amused by how quickly otherwise rational men surrendered control of their lives.

I thought they were insane. Maybe part of me envied them.

That's a considerably less comfortable realization. Because standing here looking at Layla, I understand something I didn't before.

I want what they have.

Jesus Christ.

I want someone to come home to. Someone who knows the man behind Knight Global and the billions and the carefully controlled public image.

A woman who challenges me when I'm being an asshole. Whose happiness matters enough to alter my plans. Someone who makes the penthouse I've owned for years feel different simply because she's standing inside it.

I want what I've watched my coach and half my fucking team find.

I just never imagined the woman who'd make me want it would be an investigative journalist digging into the one part of my life I'm determined to protect.

The irony would be funny if it weren't so fucking terrifying.

Because Layla isn't some theoretical future anymore. She's right here. And I want her.

Not just in my bed. Not only for tonight.