His voice has dropped considerably, his head tilted to the right, focus latched on my mouth. Just like before, with Gabe, I get the sense that he’s going to kiss me.

Am I going to let him?

Who am I and what happened to the girl who refused to borrow any of their outerwear for warmth? I am all about boundaries. Ask my roommate, Shayna—I strive to keep my relationship formal with her, despite her best efforts. But the lines between me and these men have blurred so much, I have no idea which new territory we’ve entered.

Banks dips his mouth closer to mine, creating an urgent tug in my belly.

My toes stiffen automatically, lifting me. The energy of the other two men seems to go on high alert—and then a phone rings.

Wait. Huh?

It’s Banks’s phone, vibrating between us.

The spell doesn’t dissipate completely, but when I take a hard gulp of cold air, there’s a tic in his cheek and we allow a few inches between our mouths. Inches that should have been there all along, because my goodness, he’s a stranger. He studies me, I study him back, and I can see the moment he deems it wise to take the call.

Without breaking eye contact with me, he tugs the phone from the inner pocket of his coat, answering it with a slip of that magical thumb. “Hello?”

“Bad news, coach,” comes a voice from the other side. “Trainers are putting Vankman on the injured list for the next two weeks. Goddamn ankle. He won’t play on Tuesday.”

Banks tips his head back, his breath visible as it curls toward the ceiling. “Fuck me.”

“Why don’t you take the call?” Tobias suggests, closer now. Right beside us. “I’ve got her.”

“Like hell you do,” I counter.

“Take my coat,” Banks says, removing the garment with one hand and wrapping it around my shoulders, phone still pressed to his ear. With a warning look in Tobias’s direction, he paces a few feet away and continues the call, leaving me with the man on this tram that puts me most on guard. Mentally, I’m stacking bricks in between him and I, slathering on mortar and slapping on a DANGER sign for good measure.

“I’ve got the coat,” I say, pressing a finger to his stomach and pushing him back a step. “I don’t want or need your body warmth.”

“That’s a shame.” He drags his full bottom lip through his teeth. “I’d love to give it to you.”

I’ve seen what he wants to give me. Many times. It’s very photogenic.

“Not interested.”

“Liar.” His lips twitch. “Tell me which scene lives in your head rent free. The one where I play a male escort? Fan favorite, that one.”

I should slap him upside his head for being so forward, when I’ve made it abundantly clear that I’d like him to back off. He deserves a good shove at the very least. “Actually, the ones you did with two women were always the best,” I say, batting my eyelashes. “Your mouth was too busy to do much talking.”