By the time the interviews are over on Friday, dusk is starting to settle over the city. Jordan and I head to the team’s official celebration party at a club called Alibi. The venue is a renovated jail, and it’s the hip place to be these days. As soon as I walk in, I’m ushered to the VIP area and handed a glass of champagne. Coach Williams claps me on the shoulder as a welcome.

“Here’s the hero!” He shouts over the music. His nose is red and his eyes are glassy, and I wonder how many champagnes he’s had. I grin.

“Don’t think I’m a hero, coach. You’re the one who led us here.”

“Your words,” he grins. I walk towards a set of couches and sit down next to Rigley. He’s chowing down on a huge plate of wings. He nods to me.

“Hot wing?”

“Sure.”

I settle back in the couch. From here, I have a perfect vantage of the club. We’re on a little dais, with a red velvet rope separating us from the general public. All eyes are on us, and more than a few people try to get into the VIP area. A huge bouncer stands at the entrance, but with an entire NFL football team in the enclosure, he looks almost tiny.

The vibe in here is unreal. Everyone is drinking and celebrating on both sides of the velvet rope. The entire city has exploded and is partying with us. It’s like winning the Super Bowl has made the whole city come together.

I look at the crowd, searching the faces one by one. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for. Someone I recognize, maybe? A distraction? A girl?

I toss the chicken bone on the plate and grab another wing. The food seems more interesting than girls right now. Jordan appears with a bottle of champagne and tops up my glass.

“Lighten up, man,” he laughs. “We just won the fucking Super Bowl! We beat that prick brother of yours!”

I grin. “Yeah,” I say. “We did.”

My eyes drift over the crowd again, when I do a double-take. I squint, sitting up a bit taller as if the couple extra inches of height will help me see across a crowded dance floor with flashing lights.

It couldn’t be her.

What would she be doing here?

A strobe light goes across the crowd and my heart jumps.

Farrah.

She’s laughing with a couple other girls. No, she’s not laughing. She’s beaming. She’s carrying herself differently than when I saw her at the cabin. She’s exuding confidence, and it’s hot.

Suddenly, I’m standing. Rigley raises an eyebrow at me and I look back towards Farrah. The spotlight is gone from her, and I’ve lost her in the crowd. My heart rate speeds up, and then I see her again. I drop my half-eaten wing on the plate and grab a napkin to wipe my hands.

My feet move before I can tell them to stop. The crowd of people in the club are parting around me as I make a bee-line towards her. She’s got her back to me, and it’s not until her friends nods to me that she turns around. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops.

Farrah’s cheeks blush. My cock throbs. The music thumps.

My mouth is suddenly dry, and I can feel the perspiration gathering under my arms. Have I always been this sweaty?

I lean down towards her ear, not sure what I’m going to say. Now that she’s here, in front of me, words escape me.

She’s staring at me with those big doe eyes of hers and all I want to do is pull her to me and kiss her hard. Instead, I swallow.

“Hey,” I shout over the music.

“Hey,” she replies. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Her blush deepens. She glances back at her friends, who are watching us intently. “I got a job here. In Boston. Good timing, I guess.”

“Yeah. Sorry about all that. You know, Elijah.”

Sorry about all that? I wish I could put my foot in my mouth. I’m usually great with women! Why is it so hard to talk to this one?

“You want to come back to the VIP area? You and your friends, I mean. We have alcohol.”

She bites her lip.

“Yes,” her friend replies instantly. She glances at Farrah and laughs. Farrah blushes, and I wonder what silent conversation they’re having.

I thread my fingers in hers as an electric shock travels up my arm. I head back to the VIP area with four women in tow. Jordan raises an eyebrow at me and I ignore him. I lean against the bar. Farrah does the same.

The music is a bit quieter back here, so I can actually hear her speaking.

“You want a drink?”

“No thanks,” she smiles. “Maybe just water?”

“Oh right. Sorry,” I say. “I forgot you don’t drink.”

“It’s okay. Don’t let me stop you. You’re celebrating.”

God, her smile is gorgeous. My mouth is parched, and my thoughts are jumbled. My eyes drift down to that little black dress that makes my cock throb. I glance at her lips, and then meet her eye. I turn to the bartender and order myself a drink, and two bottles of water. Then I take a deep breath and find the courage to turn back to her.

“You said you got a job here?

“I applied for it when I was still… when Elijah and I were still…” She takes a deep breath. “I applied for it a while ago. I didn’t think I’d get it. He didn’t want me to work.”

“He didn’t want you to work?” I frown. My brother? Why wouldn’t he want his girlfriend to work?

“Yeah.”

“That’s weird.”

Farrah laughs. “Yeah.”

“Are you… okay?” Smooth. Maybe I’d be smoother if my cock wasn’t throbbing every two seconds. It’s practically dancing to the beat of the music. Farrah looks up at me and nods.

“Yeah.” She wraps those perfect pink lips around the opening of her bottle of water. My cock is getting harder by the second and my pants are uncomfortably tight. I close my eyes for a second, turning towards the bar. She mimics my movement, leaning her elbows against the smooth countertop. I steal a glance at her figure and take a deep breath.

Elijah is a fucking idiot. This woman is perfect.

And she’s completely off-limits.

My body doesn’t seem to understand that, though. I feel like every nerve ending in my body is screaming right now. It’s like a magnetic force is pulling me towards her. I want to taste her, smell her, to be completely and totally immersed in her. I take another sip of my drink.

“You like Boston so far?”

Farrah ignores my question. She turns to me and tilts her head to the side, frowning.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She repeats. “What’s your angle? Are you trying to get me to get back together with your brother?”

I have to laugh at that. It just tumbles out of me before I can stop myself. I throw my head back and laugh until my shoulders shake and my eyes start to tear up. I shake my head and take another sip of my drink.

“No,” I finally say. “I’m not trying to get you back together with my brother. That’s the last thing I’d want.”

Her eyebrows draw together ever so slightly, and she watches me.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the Super Bowl. Maybe it’s the VIP area, or the loud music. Maybe it’s just the fact that the woman I’ve been dreaming about is finally standing right in front of me.

My hand drifts to her side, and I sink my fingers into her hip. She shivers and leans into me, staring up at me through her thick, long lashes.

“You’re way too good for him,” I growl.

She takes a step towards me and rests her bottle of water against her perfect lips. The corners of her lips twitch upwards and she tilts her head to the side.

“I know,” she purrs.