“Hey.”

The word is soft, but insistent. I’m still in an orgasm haze, even though I’ve already disposed of the condom. “Yeah?”

She runs her hand down my arm, and hell, do I ever love that she’s using her permission slip at last. She can keep those hands on me all night long. I fucking love how she touches me, how much she wants to explore. She makes me feel like a cat, arching, purring, asking for more.

Turning to her side, she props her head in her hand, resting on her elbow. “We should talk. Don’t you think?”

“Sure.” I still sound groggy, but it’s just the drug wearing off. The drug of her. Sobriety doesn’t interest me, though. I need another hit. I kiss her neck, inhaling her clean skin.

She wriggles against me, gliding her hands over my belly. “Mmm. You’re distracting me.”

“I’m good at that.” I nibble on her earlobe, flicking my tongue against her red cherry earrings. “These are sexy.”

“Thank you.”

I run my hand through her silky hair. “Your hair is sexy.”

She smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re sexy.”

She smiles, then wiggles her eyebrows. “And to think I was positively sure you were pretty much a blonde or bust type of guy.”

I scoff. “Well, you were wrong.”

“I suppose I was. What a surprise. A welcome one, since I didn’t think you were into me.”

Time to roll my eyes like I’ve never rolled them before. “You find it surprising that I like you? After we just fucked each other’s brains out?”

A faint blush spreads over her cheeks. “Maybe.” She shrugs.

“Fine. One roll in the hay isn’t enough evidence for you, so clearly we’ll need to do it again.”

“Well, duh.”

“But maybe you’re right. Maybe fucking each other senseless isn’t proof enough, because I sure as hell thought you would never give me the time of day.”

“Seriously?” Her voice goes soft. “I was never mean to you.”

“I know. You were always good to me. But you were also so tough when I tried to flirt with you. When I did things to get your attention. You were so impervious. So professional.”

“I thought it was all just a game. Just you being your playful self.”

“You did?”

She nods. “I figured the towel drop and the flirty comments were just who you were. And if I let myself think they meant anything more, I’d have been an idiot.”

“They meant more,” I say.

“But I had no idea.” Vulnerability flashes in her irises. “I had to be strong. I had to be professional around you.”

“Why?” I prop my head in my hand, mirroring her.

“I couldn’t risk letting on how I really felt.”

A cocky grin spreads on my face. I poke her shoulder. “Admit it. You do like me.”

Nudging my side, she whispers, “Obviously.” She winks. “I mean, obviously I like the orgasm you just gave me. That’s what I wanted to say.”

I flop my head dramatically on the pillow and mime stabbing myself in the heart. “I’m wounded. She only wants me for my dick.”

She bends her face to mine and brushes her lips over my jawline. “I like you and your dick, and I’d like more orgasms.”

“Good, but I’m still filing a report on you.”

Flinching, she pulls back. “For what? For sexual harassment?”

I laugh, my head shaking vigorously. “No. God, no. I wouldn’t even joke about that, not in this climate, and not ever. And it’s a damn good thing we work together, not as one person under the other.”

“But I was just under you.” She gives a sly little wink, and I’m loving this new side of Jillian. It was there all along, and even though she’s been professional, she’s definitely been playful with me at times. But now with the clothes off, the sassy flirt I’ve seen hints of has fully emerged.

I move over her, pinning her beneath me, my palms planted flat by her shoulders. “And you will be under me again,” I say, and she lets out a sexy little murmur. “But mostly I was going to file a report to put myself on the injured reserve, because I think you sent me into an orgasm coma there.”

“One orgasm is all it takes to induce a coma? You’re easy.”

“Easy? Hardly. I still can’t function fully because of the magnitude. It was like a nine-point-eight on the Richter scale.”

If I thought Jillian had a great smile, I was wrong. She has a magnificent smile. She has a heart-stopping smile. Because now I’m rewarded with the biggest grin in the world. “Hmm. That does sound rather intense,” she says. “Is there anything at all to do to revive you?”

I pretend as if I’m devoting deep thought to the topic. “More sex, for starters. A blow job, possibly. Maybe let me go down on you.”

“I don’t believe I was stopping you before. I think you’re the one who wanted to skip straight to the main attraction.”

“Woman, are you challenging me? I will go down on you right now.”

“You will?”

I nod. “Why do you act like that’s surprising?”

She quirks up an eyebrow. “Because I probably taste like a condom?”

“There’s really only one way to find out.”

I slide down her body, bring my face to her sweet paradise, and give her a kiss then a lick. There is a faint taste of rubber, but it fades in seconds and I’m left with the delicious taste of her. Sweet, salty, sexy. She tastes like the woman I’ve wanted to touch so badly. The woman who just came hard underneath me. She moans and moves, arching her hips against my face as I flick my tongue, as I lick long, devouring lines up her hot, wet center.

Twisting and writhing, she’s like a belly dancer as I eat her. She can’t lie still, and it’s fucking fantastic because it makes me work harder, it makes me keep up with her as she rocks into me, tangling her hips and legs around my face. I swear by the time she’s nearing the edge, she’s practically on her side in some bizarre new position.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she cries out in a chant, yanking me closer, coming on my lips.

Afterward, she murmurs for several long seconds as I untangle from her, rolling her to her back. “Damn, you get into it.”

She flashes me a satisfied smile, her eyes still glossy and hazy. “What can I say? I kind of like everything you do to me.”

“Kind of?”

“Kind of a lot.”

“Good, because I’m going to do that again, and soon. You taste like perfection. But I also would like to fuck you.”

I bring my hand to my dick and stroke. Her eyes drift down and she stares hungrily. “That’s so hot,” she whispers as I run my hand along my length. “I want to watch you do that someday.”

“Yeah? You do?”

She nods. “I’ve gotten off to that.”

My eyes bulge. “You have?”

“Sometimes I picture you touching me, but one of my go-tos is imagining you’re doing the same. That you’re jerking off to thoughts of me. I imagine you in your shower, getting off as you picture me. And that pretty much makes me come in seconds.”

I swear my dick grows impossibly harder as she says that. Harder and insistent. I let go and yank her up on all fours. “Then I will make sure you get to watch it someday, you sexy, pervy, perfect woman. But right now, I need to get inside you again.”

She lowers herself to her elbows, lifting her fantastic heart-shaped ass high in the air. Damn. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen,” I tell her, swatting her cheek.

She lets out a sexy yelp, and I bite down on the soft flesh. My reward is a long moan, and I find another condom quickly.

Once it’s on, I grab her hips and shove into her. We groan at the same time.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” I tell her as she turns her face, watching us from underneath me. That sends a wicked charge down my spine as I pump into her, setting a relentless pace.

“So do you. You look so good on your knees fucking me deep.”

“Jesus. What a filthy mouth.” I’m burning up. Her shamelessness turns me on even more, makes desire prickle all over me.

I fuck her like I’ve always wanted to. With her offering her body, giving herself over.

Soon enough, she grabs at the white sheets, curling her fingers around the fabric, losing control in a beautiful orgasm that lasts for ages. Mine stretches on and on, too, as I join her on the other side.

Minutes later, she’s still breathing hard as she runs a hand through her hair. “You’re like an animal.”

I blow on my fingers and rub them across my chest. “I will take that as a compliment. And I’m sweating now. And thirsty. Thanks for the workout.”

I head to the bathroom, pour a glass of water for myself then one more for her, and return to the bed, offering a cup to Jillian. As we drink, my mind trips back to earlier in the night, something I heard her friend say.

“What was the deal with your buddy and the elementary school? The water pipes or something?”

She scoots up against the pillows, setting her glass on the nightstand. “He does press for the local NBA team and they pay for sporting goods and things like that at one of the inner-city schools. From what he was hearing, it sounds like the water pipes burst and the summer program for the fourth-grade kids who go there will be closed unexpectedly tomorrow. They have teachers to supervise the kids, but nowhere to go.”

I furrow my brow. “That must suck for the parents. I remember when I was younger and schools had to close. My parents scrambled without any day care.”

Jillian nods thoughtfully. “It’s a real problem for working parents, especially with little kids.”

“Do you know if Andre figured out what to do? If there’s anything to do?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t. Do you have something in mind?”

The cogs are turning. I tap my temple. “I do, actually.”

I tell her my idea, and she beams. “You’d do that?”

“Of course. It’s hard to be a working parent. That’s one of the hardest things in the world.”

She flashes a sweet smile and reaches for her phone. “Let me call him.” Before she unlocks the screen, she clears her throat. “Do you need to go?”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you kicking me out?”

Her hair whips back and forth as she shakes her head. “No, but I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

I flop back down on the bed, full monty–style, and park my hands behind my head. “You can presume all you want with me. For instance, presume I want to give you more orgasms. Presume I want to spend the night. Presume I haven’t remotely had my fill of you.”

As she makes her call, I down the rest of the water and flick on ESPN, checking out baseball scores and pre-season reports as she talks to her friend. She covers the phone a few times and asks me questions. I nod and tell her yes, yes, and yes.

When she’s done, she sets a hand on my chest. “You have the biggest heart.”

“Tell me something else that’s big.”

She laughs, spreading her fingers over my pecs. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“But it is big.”

Reaching for my dick, she squeezes it. “You know it is.” Letting go, she tiptoes her fingers up my belly. “I might need to take you for a ride again. I presume you can go for a third round.”

I scoff. “Yes, you really ought to take me for another test drive.”

She wriggles her eyebrows, and I lean closer, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. When we separate, I run my fingers down her bare arm. “Hey, what did you want to talk about before? I got a little distracted by your pussy in my mouth. A good distraction.”

“Yes, and I was distracted by petting your wiener.”

I pump a fist in victory. “I knew the wiener was irresistible.”

A soft laugh falls from her lips before she goes quiet for a moment. She motions from me to her. “But seriously. We need to talk about this. About what it means.” She pauses and raises her chin as if she’s toughening up. “What it doesn’t mean.”

I don’t like the sound of the second half, but I know she’s right. “Okay, talk.”

She exhales. “I’m not going to massage words. We both know this is incredibly risky for my job and for your deal. You’re aware of that, but it has to be said.”

“It’s not like we’re banging in public.”

“Of course not, but secrets are hard to keep these days. Brands drop athletes like hotcakes for the slightest transgression. For a wrong word, for an old comment dredged up. Paleo Pet signed on for single Jones, and then Ford brought me on to help.” She holds up a finger, her eyes laser sharp. “But Paleo Pet didn’t sign on for the Jones who sneaked into his publicist’s room in Miami and screwed her all night long.”

I drag a hand over my jaw. “Fuck,” I mutter, hating how this time with her would be seen.

“Right now, you’re the wholesome, dog-loving, squeaky-clean guy. You don’t want to be the guy boning his colleague. Such a scandal. That’s how it would be framed if it got out. As a workplace scandal. There’s no other way for the gossip press to spin it.”

I cringe at the way she puts it so bluntly.

She runs her hand along my arm, her voice softening. “You can’t be too cautious when you’re playing that kind of high-stakes game. We could be caught. I’m pursuing a promotion, and I’m trying to rehab your image, but I just did exactly what we’re trying to avoid.”

I furrow my brow. “That’s not entirely true. No one said to go on a sex diet. Just to be careful.”

“Fine, true. But I’m your publicist.”

“Does the team have rules against you dating players?” I ask, genuinely interested. I’ve no clue if she’s crossing some sort of formal line in an HR handbook.

She shakes her head. “No, there isn’t a specific rule against it. The only fraternization rules involve getting involved with direct reports and vice versa. I can’t date my boss or any of the PR supervisors who report to me. We’re not forbidden from dating players, though.”

I curve up my lips. “Well, that’s good, right?”

“Yes, technically, but there’s so much more at stake. Even if I’m not violating a rule per se, think about how it would look, especially while I’m up for a promotion. While you’re trying to land new deals. While we’re working on those deals together. Here I am, trying to craft a good-boy image for you—one you rightfully deserve—and meanwhile, I’m on my hands and knees as you slam into me.”

Against my better judgment, I groan, “I like you on your hands and knees.” But then I turn more serious. “But I hear you. It’s risky.”

“It’s dangerous.”

Scrubbing a hand over my jaw, I ask, “Do you think it shouldn’t happen again?” Part of me is hoping she’ll laugh and say, No, take me again now and tomorrow and over and over.

“Do you think it should happen again?”

“I want it to,” I answer honestly, because as far as I’m concerned, everything is in the open tonight. I don’t want to play any more games with Jillian, and I won’t toy with her emotions, or my own. Given the way I’ve stored everything until now, like a pressure cooker that only needed the smallest spark of jealousy to spill over, I’ve no interest in keeping my feelings private. “I know you might find this hard to believe, but I like you. Really like you. If I could, I would date you. I would take you out. I would romance you. I would do all the things I haven’t done before.”

Her breath flutters over her lips, and her eyes shine. She wiggles her body closer to mine. “Really?”

“Would you want that?” I ask softly.

She nods, that flash of vulnerability back in her brown eyes. “Of course I want that.” Taking a deep breath, she looks away, swallowing tightly. “But we can’t have it.”

My shoulders sag. My chest is heavy. “We can’t, can we?” I say with a sigh, an acknowledgment that she’s right. That Trevor was right. That I need to focus on football and business only. That Jillian needs to do the kick-ass job she’s always done, without a guy like me complicating her life. Trevor’s words blare in my ears, the reminder of my track record. I’ve never had a relationship last longer than a month, and I detest the thought that her reputation could be called into question if she dated me. I care about Jillian far too much to let her be a question mark everyone has about me.

Her fingers trace my chest. “If we did that, we’d have to sneak around, and sneaking around is lying. No good can come of it.”

“Then we agree that this can’t happen again?”

She screws up the corner of her lips, clearly thinking. “As a publicist, I’m always looking for angles, so maybe we agree that when we go back to San Francisco, we can return to being player and publicist.”

I grin wickedly, liking her clever mind. “Your angle is sharp. And since we return in two days, that means tomorrow I can get you on your hands and knees again so I can fuck you like the animal you say I am?”

“Jones . . .” It comes out like a purr.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

She nods. “Yes, then we go back to how it was.” Her expression turns apologetic. “I love what I do, and I don’t want to chance losing it. My career has always been important to me. It was that way for my mom, too. I learned it from her.”

I can’t help but smile when she mentions her mom. I love that she’s such a family gal. “Why was it that way for her?”

“She always said that true contentment comes from what you do. She’d say don’t go looking for happiness in a man or in a relationship. Find it in your work. Find it, and when you do, it’ll feed your soul.”

“Does publicity feed your soul?”

“This might sound weird, but it does. I love sports, and I love using the platform the team has to do good. Sometimes, athletes get a bad rep,” she says, and I huff, knowing that reality too well. “But in most cases, the public just needs to see the other side. And with so many young people looking up to athletes, it’s great to show them doing amazing things for the community. I love that I can do that. I love that the great work you do on and off the field can inspire some young boys and girls to work harder, to be better, to be the best they can be. That does feed my soul, in a way, and I think I’m good at it.”

Running my fingers through her soft locks, I nod. “You’re not just good at it. You’re great at it.” I slow my strokes, making sure she meets my eyes. “I love knowing there’s a piece of your mom driving you on, even when she’s not here.”

Jillian whispers, “Me, too.”

“You miss her, don’t you?” I ask.

She bites the corner of her lips, nodding. “I do. I’m used to it, but I do miss her.”

“How could you not?” Dropping my hand from her hair, I loop my fingers through hers.

“But sometimes, I think she lives on.”

“In what way?”

“In my superstitions. My good luck charms. She was like that. She believed you make your own luck, but she also loved all the symbols of luck, too. She was so very American, but she really embraced the Chinese culture and introduced me to it. She wanted me to grow up knowing it, even if I wasn’t there anymore.”

“I love that. She wanted to honor where you came from.”

“Exactly. They didn’t go over the top and send me to Chinese school and all that, but they found little ways to bring it into their lives.” A smile crosses her face, and her eyes twinkle. “Like, they gave me dollar bills in little red envelopes during Chinese New Year. I liked that a lot.”

I chuckle. “That is a most excellent cultural celebration. Another good luck symbol?”

“It is. My people love their luck.”

“Hey, my people love their luck, too.”

“You mean the Becketts?”

“Yeah, but mostly me. I love hearing about all your lucky symbols, since I’m the most superstitious guy around. I’m going to have to eat a pomelo a day during the season now that you’ve hooked me on them,” I tell her, and she smiles in a way that makes my heart thump harder.

“Were your parents superstitious?”

“Not really. But my dad has his own theory about luck. He’s very much of the mindset that luck means sometimes you lose and sometimes you win. Growing up, he tried to teach me to keep an even head about winning or losing, to remind me that success on the field is about talent and effort, but also luck. The way the ball falls, how a foot lands, how the wind blows.”

“Do you believe that?”

I lean back and rub a hand over my jaw. “I want to. But I also think if I’m not out there busting my ass every second, then I’m not serving my team or my fans or myself. That’s probably why I follow different superstitions about the game. I give a hundred and ten percent on the field—that I can control. But I can’t control the wind, and I can’t control the refs, so I have my little rituals.”

“You do serve the team every day. You give it your all. I love watching you play. I can tell football feeds your soul.”

She’s right on the last count. The game absolutely commands my heart and my head. But I like the other thing she said, too. I raise an eyebrow. “You like watching me play?”

She nods.

I take a deep, satisfied breath. “That makes me want to make a big circus catch for you. To be on the field and raise my hands in a J so you’ll know when I dive for a ball, I’m doing it for you.” I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss them. “Still can’t believe you didn’t know I wanted you.”

“I didn’t think I was your type.”

I scoop my hands under her waist and tug her on top of me, meeting her gaze. “Jillian, my type is you. If we didn’t work together, I would be doing everything possible to get you to keep seeing me every night.”

“You would?” Her cheeks seem to glow.

“I would.”

“Stay the night?”

“You want to sleep on me again, don’t you?”

“I do.”

After we brush our teeth, since the hotel has extra toothbrushes in each room, and slide under the covers, she whispers something to me that makes me wish this wasn’t ending. “I like you so much. I have for so long.”

And I wish I could have her completely.

* * *

As dawn rises, she stirs in my arms. I kiss her cheek, run my fingers down her arm, and breathe her in. This is what I will miss most.

Waking up with her.