I brace myself. There was nothing “shit” about what just happened. I have no regrets, but Eli obviously does.

He finally mutters, “Downstairs, I was pretty sure you said that it’s been a long time since you had sex. Now I find out that you’ve never had it before?”

“Don’t worry. Virgins aren’t made of glass. You didn’t break my vagina or anything.” In fact, I feel really put together, even with the achingly dull pain between my legs. But I’m certain it’s a pain that won’t last.

We’re both still on our backs, staring up at the light from the TV sputtering across the ceiling. After another minute passes, I sigh, nudging Eli in the side with my hand.

“If you’re thinking that I’m your responsibility now, don’t worry. This isn’t the Victorian Era where I’ll be socially ostracized if people find out I was sullied. Actually, I think everyone’s expecting you to dirty me up a little.”

He exhales, reaching up to rub his face. “I don’t do virgins. They—”

“We.”

“—expect too much.”

“I expect nothing more than what’s in our agreement, Eli.”

He turns to look at me. “Why me then? Why did you decide to lose it on… Well, shit, on something this temporary?”

Good question, but I have answers. It’s because my fake fiancé turns me into a raging sex monkey, because what he does to me makes me feel so damned good that there’s no way I could ever say no.

Still, Eli doesn’t have to hear any of that, so I simply say, “Why not lose it to you?”

His laugh is chopped. “Damn, you’re something else.” But then his laughter turns appreciative, as if he’s not judging me, as if he understands that I’ve finally given in to this wild streak I’ve always had but never paid attention to. He, out of all the people in the world, understands wild streaks.

I prop myself on my elbow, looking down at that gorgeous face, those blue eyes, those lips that kissed me until I came for him. “I didn’t expect you to be so old fashioned.”

“Hell, my dad lectured me up and down about girls when I was growing up. He’s old school like that. Mom passed away early and I barely remember her, so it was up to him to let me know about the birds and the bees. I didn’t obey all his commandments about how to live life but…”

His expression goes blank. It’s as if he’s put up a wall between us again, and I can’t help but think that every brick Eli uses has his father’s name written all over it. But even though Eli obviously has issues with his overbearing dad, there’s a slight reverence in his tone when he talks about the old man…when I googled him, it said his name is Bo Brennan.

A tough sounding name for what is apparently a tough-as-nails dad.

Eli slides me a look, and he must sense the serious turn our conversation has taken, because he reaches over to feather a finger underneath my chin. He grins. “At any rate, virgins take things way too seriously. That’s why I’ve made it a habit to stay away from them.”

“Good thing I’m not a virgin anymore.”

“Right.” He lifts an eyebrow. “One more thing. Why the hell did it take you so long to be with a guy?”

Normally, this is where I would shut down a conversation, but I’m in bed with this man, and I don’t feel pressure to put up a front anymore. Why bother when I’ve been more intimate with him than anyone, ever?

“There’s just never been time for things like this,” I say. “This sounds lame, but I’ve always been too busy to make the effort. But thanks to our deal, I don’t have to worry about where my family’s next dollar is coming from. I don’t have to work my ass off and fall into bed exhausted at night. I’m…well, free.”

He’s still watching me, and there’s something in his eyes that could be mistaken for a deep understanding of where I’m coming from. But, in the next moment, he slips his hand under the sheet that’s covering my body. When he brushes his knuckles over my pussy, the hint of friction makes my clit throb. I lower my head into the crook of my arm, anticipating his next move, watching him right back.

As he insinuates a finger into my slit, I think that maybe this is how every conversation with my so-called fiancé will end, that sex is the only way Eli and I will ever be able to relate to one another.

And I’m okay with that as I open my legs for him, welcoming him in.

* * *

The first game is a win for the Rustlers, and Eli has a field day at the press conference afterward. He teasingly puts off questions about his “media shy” new fiancé and instead directs attention to his kick-ass play on the field.

Afterward, at home, he’s a bit sore, but that doesn’t stop him from taking me to bed and celebrating there with another carnally fantastic night. He doesn’t seem to mind that his father watched the game from a different box than mine and refused to meet me. I don’t tell him much about my day and how I spent it in the owner’s box with Randal Preston pretending to like me as he actually ignored me the entire time. Luckily, Lulu was in Cancun.

All in all, it was a good start to our season: the media adored me, especially when we left the stadium so I could drive Eli home. Flash bulbs were everywhere. Great press followed.

Later that week, when the team has a practice at their facility where they’ve invited the media, I attend it to play my role. It’s so easy to put on an adoring face as I watch Eli on the field, running drills. He moves so fluidly, rough poetry in motion as he sprints. No one on the team can catch him, and his physical prowess tugs at something deep inside me. I want to feel his cock again. I want his mouth between my legs, his tongue on my clit. I want him everywhere.

It’s almost a shock to realize that cameras have been snapping away, recording me as I lust after my fiancé. If only they knew that this is all for show and in less than three months there won’t be anything to take pictures of. “Jeli”—the laughingly awful name they’ve already given to us in the press—will be over and done all too soon. No matter how many interviews I manage to survive, such as the one I gave to the local paper the other day, and no matter how many clicks Jeli gets for every blog post, there will be no “there” there.

But I forget all about that when the players leave the field slathered in grime and sweat. It might be air-conditioned inside the practice dome, but there’s still the primal smell of hard work hanging in the air.

Eli heads straight for me, keeping me in his intense sights, and he doesn’t stop as the press goes crazy, taking pictures and yelling questions to him. Before I can suck in a breath, he’s dropped his helmet and wrangled me into his arms, dipping me back for a kiss.

Colors spiral on the backs of my eyelids as I cling to his wet jersey. His whiskers burn my cheeks, and he needs a shower, but who cares? Lust is pumping through me, making me want this kiss to last forever.

Yet it only seems to last as long as a flash from a camera as he sets me on my feet and looks down at me.

My knees waver, and he holds me up. The cameras go wild for that, too.

“You okay, babe?” he asks.

“Are you?”

He chuckles. The offensive coordinator walks by and barks at him to get in the showers.

Eli presses his mouth to mine for a quick kiss. “My muscles are gonna be stiff tonight, but after I see you wearing one of those little nighties, that’s not all that’s gonna be stiff.”

Passion-struck, I just nod. He starts to jog away, giving me one last, sexy look over his padded shoulder before heading toward the press. His PR guy advised me not to interact with them unless it’s during an arranged interview, so I hang back.

Damn, I wish Eli hadn’t kissed me, because now I’m yearning for him, and I won’t be satisfied until I’m in bed with him again.

I rub my arms and turn from the media to find a group of football wives inspecting me from their section of the bleachers. When they see that I’ve noticed them, they casually go back to chatting with one another. The only one who acknowledges me is Courtney Dexter, the quarterback’s wife. And that’s pretty much how it’s been—me, the new girl, them, the It crowd.

I wave back at her, then cradle my arms over my chest, wondering if I should wander over there. It’s not that the significant others are mean girls; it’s just that they don’t seem to think I’ll stick around, and they’re not investing any kind of emotion in me. They obviously don’t trust Eli to have a serious relationship.

My hackles rise at that. They don’t know him.

But do I?

My phone rings, and I motion to Courtney that I’ll come over soon. She’s asked me to meet so we can talk about last-minute fashion details for a charity dinner the night after tomorrow, so that’s a good start to fitting in soon, I hope.

I answer my cell. “Hello?”

“Long time no hear, sis.”

Judging by Ivy’s light tone, this isn’t a bad phone call about Mom. Besides, I dropped by the apartment this morning to spend some quality time with Mom and to check in with Dad about her latest doctor’s appointment. Everyone seems to be on the upswing now that some money has gushed in. Truthfully, Dad’s pride took a hit because he always wanted to provide for everyone, but he’s not so full of ego that he refused the windfall.

With one more glance at Eli—good God, when the dear Lord created football pants, he had Eli Brennan in mind—I wander down the sidelines.

“We talked for an hour last night, you brat,” I say to Ivy.

“Well, this brat is about to inform you that, as of today, you’re not getting along with the football wives. Ah, the things we learn on the Internet.”

My stomach seems to drop.

Ivy goes on. “TMZ just scooped everyone else on that piece of news. They say that you’re kind of standoffish, and that you think you’re too good for the rest of them because you’re a big old celebrity now.”

“What?”

“Right? Imagine you being stuck up. That would never happen.”

How can she be so cavalier about this? “Am I stuck up? I mean, do I come off that way to everyone?”

“Nah. And don’t worry, Jen. My friends and I left a bunch of responses in the comments section of the site defending you. I’ve totes got your back.”

My heart seems to rise back up, lifted by a cushion of warmth. “Ivy, when’s the last time I told you I love you?”

“Yeesh, there’s no need to bring on the cheese. You’re my sister, and that’s what we do.” Pause. “But I love you, too.”

I smile, and I’ll bet she’s doing the same on her end. “How would you like it if I brought over a decadent dinner tonight? I can order from any restaurant that tickles your fancy.”

“You’ve got some pull in this city all of a sudden.”

I guess I do. Natalie can personal-assistant her way into getting me just about anything I want. I’m not quite used to that turn of events yet, but I’m warming up to the perks. “Lobster? Steak? Both? Just name it.”

Ivy pauses again, and a veil of discomfort falls over me. For the slightest of seconds, it’s almost as if she doesn’t know who I am anymore, and I want to tell her that, soon enough, I’ll be her Jen again. When this charade is over, I’ll be the girl we’ve both always known.

“You know Mom,” she says. “She’s always up for Mexican from that storefront a few blocks away.”

“Ivy…”

“Just bring your hunk-a-burnin’ love with you to dinner when things calm down with football, okay? Mom and Dad want to get to know him before you actually get married. That would be the best thing you can give us.”

I close my eyes, then open them. “You’re right. When things calm down, a family dinner is the first thing we’ll do. Promise.”

“Good.”

I’ve just lied through my teeth to my own sister, and as she giddily goes on to talk about the cute guy who keeps coming into her restaurant, I do my best not to lose my cool and shout to everyone that I’m a fake, that I can’t even tell my own family what a counterfeit piece of coin I am. Soon enough though, Ivy and I are saying our farewells. I promise I’ll drop in to see my family tomorrow—without Eli. Always without my fiancé.

After we end the call, I turn around to look at Eli, who’s still entertaining the press. He seems so happy surrounded by all those adoring people. He’s the former first-round, top-seeded draft pick, the player the team brought in last year to change their fortunes, their best hope for the Super Bowl.

People seem to have forgotten about the black book scandal now that the media has a fresh new Eli story to discuss day after day.

Everything is going according to plan.

But when he glances at me and sends me a devastating grin, my heartbeat falters. Pieces of me fall apart, shimmering through me with a heated longing I can’t deny.

With a shaky sigh, I realize that maybe everything isn’t going exactly how I planned.