Roger stands at the head of the table, and bodies fill every chair from one end of the room to the other. I sit straight, my legs crossed at the ankle, dutifully jotting notes.

“The Assemblymen hope this initiative will appeal to taxpayers…”

The meeting drones on, and I try my best to pay attention, but when I shift in my seat, my thighs and everything in between ache, a constant reminder of what I did two nights ago. Grateful when the meeting disperses, I drag myself back to my cubicle.

After twenty minutes, I finally give in. I have stories to work on and deadlines to meet, but it’s like an itch I have to scratch.

Checking to make sure no one is watching, I pull up ESPN’s webcam coverage of today’s preseason game. It’s the first half, so Brentwood, the veteran quarterback, is still playing. Daren probably won’t get any time until maybe the third quarter, or at least that’s what the sports guys have been saying. I may have eavesdropped on their conversation this morning when I was refilling my coffee.

Rearranging everything on my desk so things sit at a right angle to my laptop, I stick in an earbud to listen while I attempt to finish an assignment. As the guys predicted, Daren looks like he’s going to play five minutes into the third quarter. The Rebels are up by seven points, which doesn’t seem like a big lead, but I’m guessing the coaching staff wants to see if Daren can hold his own.

I tiptoe across the hallway and stare up at the flatscreen TV where two sports guys watch the game. Fortunately, Nicole is covering the event, so she’s not here to comment on my sudden interest.

Why I’m sneaking around to watch this is beyond me. I shouldn’t care what happens today. I mean, I guess Daren and I are friends, so I should have a friendly interest. Not a holy-crap-we-screwed-like-sex-crazed-bunnies interest, which is definitely what’s going on in my head right now.

Nerves flutter in my tummy, and I fight the urge to bite my nails, which I haven’t done in years. Yes, I’m nervous for his game. We talked about his practice schedule the other night. How his practices go from sunup to sundown every day. When I knew I had to cover him for these segments, I did a little research. He had a reputation for being one of the few guys who didn’t party in college, throwing himself into football, but now it’s not a stretch to say he eats, breathes and sleeps the game.

My lips twitch up. It’s hard to not admire his drive. His determination.

So maybe I’ll watch for a few minutes and get him out of my system.

Sure, Maddie. Like you did this weekend?

I release a frustrated breath. Yeah, so maybe I rode him like a bareback rider at the rodeo, but in no way did I sign on for more than one night of fun.

So then why am I so eager to catch a glimpse of him right now? And why was sex never that hot with Jacob?

Because you never let go.

Honestly, I thought dating Jacob was letting go. Dating someone so different had been difficult on many levels. Even though he pushed himself in the arena and in training, he somehow never grasped my work schedule, often complaining that I didn’t make enough time for him.

Is that why he cheated?

I glance down at the phone in my hand, a constant reminder of his blow job cameo a few clicks away.

Before Friday night, I would’ve said Jacob and I had a healthy sex life. I tried to make sure he was satisfied. He always came. What man doesn’t? And I got there too most of the time.

Not like Friday night, though.

Nothing with Jacob was ever that desperate, that needy, that perilously close to pushing me to some kind of precipice.

No, Jacob was a nice exploration of the missionary position. Every time. Never anything dirty. Never hard. Never, ever out of control. I couldn’t remember him trying to rip off my clothes or me being so hungry to have him in me, I thought I’d die trying to press him into my body.

Not like with Daren.

Cheering draws my attention back to the game. My heart starts to race when the camera zooms in on him. I step a little closer to the screen.

There’s that jaunty little strut. Daren crosses the field in those tight football pants, and my mouth waters. I can’t quite make out his face, but that confident swagger reminds me how it feels to be under him. To have him drive into me. To have him bite me.

My toes curl in my heels thinking about that man’s body. Jacob had a great body. But nothing short of coming face to face with a naked Channing Tatum could’ve prepared me for the magnificence that is Daren Sloan.

The broadcast cuts to his headshot and stats from his senior year at BC. Jesus, he’s beautiful. Did I really sleep with this magnificent specimen?

No, you didn’t just sleep with him. You pressed his face between your thighs until your eyes rolled back in your head.

An image flashes behind my eyes. Of Daren hovering over me. Of cut muscles and sweaty skin. Of glorious ridges and pulsing heat.

And holy mother, there was a lot of pulsing heat.

Now that my hangover has fully retreated, my mind has been filling in the blanks from Friday night. How his rough hands gripped my now tender skin in heated exchanges as I tried to claw my way closer. How wide I had to stretch my legs so he could press his way in. How good he felt when he finally pushed—

“Madeline.”

I nearly jump out of my shoes. Twisting around, I come face to face with Roger.

“You okay?” he asks, waving his hand at me. “You look a little flushed.”

“Do I?” I press a sweaty palm to my forehead. “It’s warm in here. Are you warm? I’m warm.” Oh, God. I’m standing here in the middle of the office about to spontaneously combust over Daren. What’s wrong with you?

Roger eyes me curiously. “Did you eat lunch?”

“No,” I say, pointing to him. Bingo. Lunch! “I have not eaten yet. And I do get a bit lightheaded.”

“So go grab a bite. You know, I never say things like this, Madeline, but don’t push yourself too hard. You’re often here when I come in, and you’re still here when I leave. I love your drive, but I don’t want you to burn out.”

Nodding, I agree. “Yes, sir. No burning out. I get it.”

He points to the screen. “Good game?”

“Uh, I’m not really sure. I just popped in here a moment ago.”

“I’m guessing you’ve heard then.” He scratches the back of his head, a wrinkle forming between his brows.

“Heard what?”

“You’re back on the football segment.” He presses his palms into his tired eyes. “I’m not sure why Spencer switched you out for Nicole after his big to-do last week, but viewer emails came flooding in wanting you back after Nicole’s segment ran yesterday.” Dropping his hands to his waist, he raises his eyebrows. “So you’re back on. Be ready to go on Thursday.”

No, no, no! Dread fills my stomach. How can I cover Daren? I slept with him this weekend. No, we fucked, dirty and hard and more than once.

Roger frowns again. “You’re too young to get an ulcer, kiddo. Just aim for the same vibe you did the first time, and everything will be okay.”

I nod, forcing a weak smile, and he shuffles out of the office.

Same vibe? How the hell do you convey the same vibe after you’ve placed your mouth on someone’s… Oh, God. I went down on Daren. I scratched the hell out of his back. I said things to him you couldn’t get me to say at gunpoint.

I’m going to throw up. I bolt for my cubicle only to run into Brad.

“Hey, Madeline. Just wanted to see if you wanted a coffee. I’m headed out now.”

I shake my head. “No, that’s nice of you, though. Thanks.”

“No problemo.” He looks me over. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A strained laughter leaves my lips. “Just, uh, trying to get a grip on everything I have to do today.”

“Been pretty busy lately, huh?”

“Yeah. Busy. Really, really busy.”

He scratches his head, messing up his sandy blond hair. “Well, let me know if things change. I’d love to take you to lunch some time to catch up.”

Nodding, I try to smile. “Yes. I will. Thanks so much. Some time we’ll have to do that.”

When I’m finally alone in my cubicle, I know only one thing will ease my distress. Work. Lots and lots of work.