“Ughhhhh, I’m dying,” I moan when I open the door to the bathroom.

The shower didn’t help. Brushing my teeth didn’t help, and the four Ibuprofens I took with a full glass of water when I woke up are not helping.

“I’m sorry, baby. You can seriously stay here. I’ll order you some greasy room service, and you can sleep some more while I’m at my photo shoot.”

Unlike me, Hayden is bouncing back from last night as if he had half a tablespoon of alcohol, got a full ten hours of sleep, and happened to have time to wear a homemade mud mask at the same time.

None of that is the truth.

In fact, we got back to the hotel at two in the morning, dragged our bodies into our room, and passed out. Hayden woke up at five, went for a run, did some kind of crazy workout routine, took a shower, and is now handsome as ever with his unfazed skin, eight-pack abs, and minty-fresh breath.

Meanwhile, I’m over here looking like I’ve been dragged behind a subway car for five stops and then picked apart by sewer rats . . . and this is after a shower.

How can he possibly look at me and think, oh yes, this woman, this woman right here is who I want to take to my photo shoot?

He’s insane.

He’s crazy.

He’s infatuated with me.

And it’s the only reason I’m currently slipping on my white Keds and linking my fingers with his. “Take me to the photo shoot. I want to see you in underwear.”

Chuckling, he says, “I can show you what I look like in underwear in private.”

I wave him off. “It won’t be the same. You’ll be under all those lights, oiled up, and posey. I can’t miss that. Plus, what if you need a fluffer? I’m not going to let any other lady touch your penis.”

We’re halfway to the door when he stops his pursuit. “Uh, what are you talking about? There are no penis shots.”

“No? So this is like a David Beckham-type underwear ad?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “What were you thinking it was? Because from the sounds of it, you were thinking this was X-rated.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Hey, I don’t know what you do to make a buck. I’m not judgey here, I just don’t want other women touching your penis.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about. There will be no touching of my penis by anyone else but you.”

We take the elevator to the main lobby where there is a car waiting for us by the curb.

“Funny you say I’m the only one who will be touching your penis, especially since I have yet to fully wrap my fingers around it.”

“Maybe you should try harder.” He holds the door to the car open for me, a giant small on his face.

“Try harder?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, okay. Be careful what you wish for there, Holmes. I’m feisty, and you just tested me.”

“You must be Adalyn.” A suave-looking man in a tailored suit walks up to me. Slicked-back hair, freshly shaven face, and a powerful cologne advertising the man has made money.

My guess, he’s made money off athletes like Hayden.

A Jerry McGuire-type, but a little more . . . sleazy-looking.

“And you must be James, the publicist.” I lend out my hand and he takes it, placing a kiss across my knuckles.

Okay, not Jerry McGuire, more Philip Stuckey from Pretty Woman, but with a full head of hair.

“Hayden must have told you about me. I hope it was all kind.”

Taking my hand back, trying not to wipe my knuckles on my shirt to rid of the feeling of his lips on my skin, I shrug. “Could have been kind, could have been irritated. Something about asking him if he’s bloated?”

James grips his tie, shuffling it back and forth on his neck. “Got to make sure my boys are in top form. During the off-season, some of them let themselves go and forget about the photo shoots we have lined up.”

“Well, nothing to worry here, as Hayden is in top form.” I wink and scan the room, looking for the man of the hour. He’s been in “hair and makeup” for what seems like an hour. What could they possibly be doing to primp him?

“They’re spray-tanning him if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Hmm, I don’t like that this dude can read my mind. It ups the level of his skeeze factor.

“Spray tan, huh, I guess that makes sense. He is a bit on the paler side, still hot though.” Looking James up and down, I ask, “Have you seen his eight-pack? Yummy, right?”

His brow pulls together. “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say yummy, but yes, the man has a nice stomach.”

“Not just stomach, James. Abs, the man has abs.” I pat his arm.

“Yes.” He drags out the word, looking me up and down. He’s suspicious. I can see the assessment he’s making of me, the first judgment.

And I’m not looking my best, that’s for damn sure. I’ve seen better days. Pretty sure I still have a little bit of mascara residue under my eyes from last night. My wet hair is in the midst of air-drying, and I’m dressed in jeans and one of Hayden’s T-shirts. The only thing holding me together right now is the Egg McMuffin we had on the way here and the venti coffee gripped in my hand.

“Can I ask you something?” James asks, sticking his hands in his suit pants pockets, his shoulder tilted in my direction, as if we’re about to share a special conversation.

I take a sip of my coffee and look over the lid. “I would be surprised if you didn’t.”

Blunt. It’s the only way to deal with this kind of men.

The kind of men who think they’re doing the right thing by looking out for “their guys” when in fact, they’re ready to blow everything up. I’m not stupid. I know what this man’s end game is. He only makes money if his boys are performing well, if he’s able to portray them as perfect specimens. So why would he want Hayden to have a “distraction” in his life. To publicists and agents, a girlfriend is a distraction.

And I have a feeling he’s about to tell me that.

“How long have you known Hayden?”

“A little over a month. We met through a mutual friend.”

He nods. “And it’s going well between you two?”

“I’d say it is.”

“And what is it that you do?”

“I’m a nurse at a hospital in Binghamton.” Another sip of coffee. “Tell me, James, what exactly is your burning question? Are you trying to scope out information from me so you have dirt for the media? Are you thinking of every which way you can spin our situation so you can make me look bad and make Hayden look like a hero, in case things go sour?”

Silence falls between us as James chews on the side of his cheek, his eyes searching mine, calculating his next move.

Plastering on a fake smile, he says, “I would never dream of doing such a thing. I only want to get to know you.”

“Well I have no desire to get to know you.” I take down another gulp of hot liquid. “I know why you’re really here, okay? I’m not a vapid airhead; Hayden has the whole package. He is not only extremely talented on the ice, but he’s a kind human being, overtly attractive, and has a heart of gold. He’s exactly what every publicist dreams of. So your number-one priority is to make sure no one messes with your perfect package. I get it.” I lean forward, drawing him closer. “But I’m going to tell you right now, I’m not here to bring Hayden down. I’m here to lift him up, and I suggest you do the same instead of trying to dig for dirt from a girl who plans on sticking around for a very long time.” I pat his cheek, putting an end to our conversation just as Hayden walks up, looking drop-dead sexy in a pair of white boxer briefs.

He places a kiss on the side of my head and looks to James. “Everything okay over here?”

“Oh yes,” I answer. “James was asking if he could get me anything for my hangover. Sweet guy, this one.” I thumb toward James who purses his lips.

Not buying it, Hayden eyes James, but before he says anything, he’s called on set. “Got to go.” Dipping his head down, he clasps my chin and gives me a slow, sweet kiss before taking off toward a well-lit set, draped in deep blue fabric. With his tan skin, white briefs, and popping muscles, he’s looking so damn delicious.

I can’t wait for the show.

James steps forward, close enough so only I can hear him. “I’ve seen it before, a woman takes down a man of Hayden’s caliber. I’ve seen them lose everything, and I don’t want that for Hayden. I only want what’s best for him.”

I nod and stand from my chair, wanting to move it closer. Before I excuse myself from the conversation, I look at James and give him a sweet smile. “Thank you, James. I really appreciate your concern for Hayden. But I’m going to tell you this once and only once . . .” I pause and pat his chest. “You can fuck off.”

Test shots flash, people mill about adjusting lights and the backdrop, PAs stand around with headphones, waiting for their next request while Hayden does pushups on the floor, vigorously working up a sweat.

Me, I sit back in my chair, legs crossed, coffee halfway to my mouth while staring at my boyfriend.

When did shoulder blades become so sexy?

Because Lord Jesus, Hayden has a set of shoulder blades that will tickle any women’s fancy. With every drop to the ground, they form into peaks, surrounded by bulge after bulge of muscle. From his traps, to his shoulders, to his biceps, sinew flows effortlessly, ripples with precision.

Up and down.

Up and down.

I’m transfixed, unable to move, unable to pull my eyes away.

“You about ready?” the photographer, Hildi, asks.

“Yeah, ten more,” Hayden calls out, his voice strained.

Pumping up and down, he shows no struggle in his last ten pushups. His large hands spread over the ground, his forearms working overtime, his head tilted down, giving me the perfect view of his tight, round ass in his white briefs.

Oh heavens.

That ass.

What was he thinking bringing me to this photo shoot? Was this another way for him to torture me?

Because it’s working.

Hopping to his feet, Hayden rubs his hands together, dusting them off, his chest popping, his abs flexing, his body looking better than ever with a light splattering of hair across his thick, barrel-like chest.

A low thrum starts to form between my legs.

My veins are tingling with awareness.

I’m turned on.

From pushups.

And I want more. I’ve become a harlot for pushups. Why am I not filming this? Because then I can watch pushups on replay for hours on end.

I make a mental note to ask Hayden to perform more pushups for me later.

Hayden is put into place, music booms over speakers, and like a seasoned professional, he starts posing for the camera, making little adjustments with his arms and hands.

Grabbing on the back of his neck, head tilted up.

One hand behind his back, abs flexed, pecs full, nipples hard.

Smiling, hand over face as if he’s the shyest, yet hottest man on earth.

Both hands pulling on the edge of his underwear, biting on his lip . . .

Oh fuck, that one right there, that’s the shot.

The set around me stills, women motionless as Hayden moves effortlessly, listening to Hildi’s direction, occasionally peeking over to me, that boyish smile made only for me appearing.

I prop my chin on my hand and lean forward, eyes traveling from his powerful shoulders to the well-defined divots in his stomach, to the V that leads straight to his bulge.

Ugh, and that bulge. It looks so . . . heavy, so full, so fucking hot, all I want to do is run up to him, pull his underwear down and start sucking him off.

Yeah, did you cringe? I said it, I said suck him off, and I’m not ashamed of it. If you were in my position, you would be thinking the same thing.

Hayden’s attractive, but it wasn’t his looks that made me fall for him. It’s the kindness, the warm heart he carries in his chest, the thoughtful man he’s proven to be. It’s things like holding off on the physical side until we got to know each other better. It’s the loving texts in the morning, the flowers at work or lunches delivered, or the way he calls me baby without even giving it a second thought.

I’ve fallen for him for all the right reasons, and in many respects, that was Hayden’s intention and desire. He’s clearly and rightly beloved, because the man the public sees is not that dissimilar to one I’ve grown to adore. But it’s not what James thinks. I haven’t fallen for the larger-than-life pinup-worthy hockey star.

That being said, I’m happily taking a selfish moment. I’m looking past his beautiful qualities and focusing on the pure physical here.

I’m letting my eyes eat him up for the first time because I’m finally getting the chance.

Nothing but a pair of underwear, he stands before me, those dark, mysterious eyes smiling, his strong, square jaw posed and sharp, the scruff on his face adding to the sex-appeal. His body, tall and thick with muscle. His forearms and biceps like cannons. His bulge so freaking enticing I feel myself inching forward on my chair.

I lick my lips as if trying to savor the sweetness of our last kiss, wishing we were tucked away in our hotel room, lying in bed, slowly tracing each other’s bodies with our fingertips instead of me watching him from a few feet away.

Tilting his head back, he shows off the long column of his neck, his Adam’s apple poking out. All male. Masculinity drips from him. The hum between my legs forms a solid throb as my breath turns shallow, my body aching for him.

Please touch me.

Please take me somewhere private.

Please bury yourself deep inside me.

“That’s a wrap!” Hildi shouts, startling me out of my stupor.

Eyes blinking rapidly, I stand from my chair and clap along with everyone else, unsure of what to do.

Hayden eyes me while he speaks with the photographer, his gaze never leaving mine even when he speaks with her.

I take a step forward and his eyes darken, smolder, giving me a once-over.

Another step and he takes a deep breath.

One more.

Thanking the photographer, he closes the space between us, snags me by the arm, and bypasses everyone on set, taking me down a long hallway and into a room to the right. Slamming the door shut, he locks it, and spins on his heels, looking almost . . . angry.

“What the hell was that?”

Caught off guard, I step back. “What was what?”

He approaches me, his body vibrating. “You know what I’m talking about.” Pressing me against the wall, his height towering over me, he adds, “The licking of your lips, the searing I’m going to eat you alive look you were giving me through that entire photo shoot.” His hands trap my hips against the wall. “Do you realize how hard it was to not only look away from you, but to not get fucking hard with the way that perfect pink tongue of yours would peek out and touch the tip of your lips?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Well . . . you know, it wasn’t easy on me either.” I puff my chest forward, my nipples hard and rubbing against his chest. “Watching you practically pull your underwear down in front of everyone, the way you would bite your bottom lip, or flex your muscles in just the right way. It was hot.” I whisper, “So hot.”

Not able to take it anymore, needing to show him how serious I am, I place my hands on the waistband of his briefs and inch my fingers inside.

“Adalyn, what are you doing?”

“This.” In one swift movement, I bring his briefs down past his growing erection, letting them fall to the ground.

He sucks in a deep breath and hisses when my hand squeezes around him. “Adalyn,” he chokes out, “there are people outside.”

“Good for them.” I glide my hand up and down his erection, feeling it grow quickly in my grasp, followed by a pained look on Hayden’s face. “I want you, Hayden. I need you. I can’t wait any longer. This thing between us, this sexual chemistry, it’s eating me alive. Your tongue and fingers are not going to hold me over.” I squeeze is erection hard. “I need this.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Adalyn, we can’t do this here. I had plans for this moment.”

“Well, you took too long.” I strip my shirt over my head, reach behind me and unclasp my bra, letting it fall to the floor with his briefs.

Darkening eyes meet mine. A tick of his jaw. A flex in his neck.

“Goddamn it,” he says between his teeth before he reaches for my jeans and unbuckles them. I help him and push them down to the ground along with my underwear. “This is not how it’s supposed to be.” He strokes my cheek.

“Not everything can be planned, Hayden. Sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind and be in the moment.”

“Is that what you want? This?” His voice goes deeper when he says, “You want me to fuck you against this wall?”

My breath hitches as I swallow hard and nod. “I do.”

“You’re going to have to be quiet.”

“I’m not making any promises.”

Searching my eyes, indecision clear in the pull in his brow, I can see he’s concerned. He pictured this moment differently, but there is no more waiting where I’m concerned. There is no more waiting. There is no more teasing. We’re done with that.

Taking charge, wanting to ease his worry, I bring his hand between us and press it between my legs, letting him feel how much I want this, how turned on I am.

His finger slips past my slit and he groans, his forehead connecting with mine. “Fuck, Adalyn.”

“Do you feel that, Hayden?” I move his hand up and down, sliding along with ease. “This is how hot I am for you, how needy I am. This is from watching you and nothing else.” I press his finger inside me, loving how he adds another finger, stretching me. “I’ve waited, Hayden. I’ve waited so damn long to find out what it feels like to have you pulsing inside of me, to have you groaning out my name while you hover over me, complete ecstasy written all over your face.” I squeeze the base of his cock. He coughs and swallows hard. “A little piece of me has died inside every time we’ve gotten so close, every time I’ve itched to feel your rock-hard cock in my hand and you’ve pulled away.” I shake my head. “Not this time. I’m not waiting. I’m taking what I want. And I want you, Hayden. I want your heart, I want your thoughtful mind, and I want your sexy body. Right here. Right now.”

The air stills, my words hanging heavily between us, the sexual tension thick.

Is he going to make a move, or am I going to have to help him take the next step?

Before I can decide, his lips crash down on mine, needy and demanding, stealing my breath, draining every last ounce of air from my lungs.

Cupping my cheeks, he licks my lips, parting them with his tongue, diving deep into my mouth. Relief washes over me when he pushes me farther into the wall, his hips pinning mine, his cock, hot and stiff, grazing between my legs.

Shifting with our movements, his length creates a heady friction, awakening a part of me I haven’t felt in a while, a tingling sensation that reaches from the tips of my toes to the root of my hair.

Taking his shoulders in my hands, I steady myself and pull him closer so my pebbled nipples are rubbing against the fine hair on his chest, the sensation adding to the sultry experience.

With each passing kiss, each press of his cock against my wet center, I get lost.

Lost in the feel of his mouth on mine.

Lost in his gentle, yet demanding touch.

Lost in the explicit groans rumbling from his brawny chest.

In this moment, I’m not Adalyn, and he’s not Hayden. We’re becoming one. It’s scary, terrifying actually, because from this moment on, I know I’ll never be the same. From this point on, I’ll be his, and he will be mine.