I work out, shower, make dinner, watch game film, study the playbook, pack for our cross-country trip to Baltimore where we will kick unholy ass on the gridiron on Sunday, and text Violet to ask if she’s hungry. An emoji face holding a fork and a knife is her answer. I pack up some food for her and drive to her home, knocking at eight thirty sharp.

“Don’t laugh, but I have to be in bed by ten thirty,” I tell her when she opens the door.

Her lips twitch in a grin. She chuckles and pats my cheek. “It’s so cute that you have a bedtime.”

“When you meet Greenhaven, you’ll understand why we all follow his rules. Dude is intense.” I shut the door behind me and hold up a soft cooler packed with food.

“Are you feeding an army?”

I eye the gigantic red lunch bag that’s, admittedly, more suitable for a day of fishing than delivering dinner to a woman. “Pretty sure this is just for you, but maybe I’ll keep it for myself.”

“What did you bring?”

“Protein, protein, more protein, and broccoli.”

She mimes gagging. I walk past her to the tiny kitchen, where I unpack the bag and set a Tupperware dish of stir-fried chicken on her counter. “I lied. It’s stir-fry and veggies. Come and get it.”

She pants like a dog as she trots into the kitchen. “Yum. I love your chicken stir-fry.”

“I know.” I watch as she opens a drawer and grabs some utensils. She’s wearing black leggings and an emerald-green top that’s sparkly and hangs low and loose. The scoop neck affords a fantastic sneak peek of the tops of her tits.

She hops up on the counter, takes the Tupperware, and digs in. She smiles as she chews, then rolls her eyes in delight. Her bare feet swing back and forth, and she looks so utterly, delightfully happy that it makes my chest ache in a whole new way. A good ache. A warm ache. One that makes me want to get closer to her. All because she’s . . . eating adorably?

What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m sporting a goofy grin. I better wipe that shit off my mug right about now.

I lift my chin. “Thanks again for coming today. You were great with all the kids, especially Smashalie.”

“I loved it. That girl is cool. I want to go to her roller derby games.” She takes a bite of the chicken and then gives me a mischievous little look. “Want me to braid your hair sometime?”

I drag a hand through my locks. “Somehow, I doubt even you could braid my hair.”

“I did learn on Trent,” she says as she spears another forkful.

I arch a brow. “Seriously?”

“Remember in fourth grade when he refused to cut his hair?”

I snap my fingers. “That’s right. He wanted to be a rock star.”

She taps her shoulder with the end of her fork to indicate the length of Trent’s rocker locks back then. “Mom let him go one year without cutting it. He was my crash-test dummy.”

I shake my head in amusement. “That is basically the best dirt ever.”

“You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

“No, I just like knowing it. Why? Did he swear you to secrecy?”

She brings her fingers to her lips in an oops gesture. “I think so.” Her expression turns serious. “He doesn’t know about this?”

I step closer, and plant a kiss on her neck. “You mean that?”

She shivers. “Yes. That.”

“Of course not. Besides, there’s nothing to tell, right?” I wink. She laughs, but the sound fades quickly. “Did you mention anything to him?”

“God, no.”

“What about Holly, though?”

“Holly honors the girl code,” Violet says.

“Are you sure?”

She gives me a look as if I’m nuts. “She hasn’t said a word.”

“And you do know he’s her husband?”

She stares at me. “Yes, I am aware. And she didn’t take a vow before God and family to tell her husband all his sister’s secrets. Like I said, she honors the code.”

“But she knows that I’m here?”

Violet sets down her fork. “Are you asking me if I specifically texted her and told her hey, guess what, Cooper’s coming over tonight? The answer is no. If she knows generally that you gave me several stupendously magnificent orgasms, the answer is yes,” she says with a proud lift of her chin.

I smile. “Stupendously magnificent?”

“I might have mentioned your talents.”

“Excellent.”

Violet laughs. “If my brother knew about your skills, that would be an issue, but as long as I’m praising your oral and manual talents to my sister-in-law, it’s all good?”

“I’m simple like that.” I take a beat. “Besides, it’s different with Trent.”

“I know,” she says, her tone slipping to a more serious note.

It’s different because I have no clue how he’d feel about me being here. I don’t know how he’d react if he knew my relationship with his sister has sailed into uncharted waters. And I have no idea what he’d say about the way my heart seems to take on a different shape when I’m near her. A new and wholly unfamiliar shape.

But I know this much—I don’t want to think about Trent tonight. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“Funny, I don’t, either.”

She leans over and drops the Tupperware in the sink and glances at the clock on her microwave. “Ticktock. Bedtime approaches.”

I put my hands on her thighs, nudge her legs open, and wedge myself between them. “Yes, and I need to do bad things to you before I leave for the coldest place on earth.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Is Baltimore that cold?”

“Hell if I know. It’s not California, that’s for damn sure. All I can say is thank the good Lord for domed stadiums or I would be screwed in the NFL. I’m too warm-blooded.”

She runs a hand down my arm. I’m wearing a black T-shirt. “You are. Also, do you know it kind of turns me on to know that I’m touching the arm that everyone is going to be talking about on Sunday?”

I laugh. “You can lick it and kiss it, too.”

She purses her lips. “I’m so lucky.”

I mimic throwing a football, and she grabs hold of my upper arm. “Seriously,” she says with a sigh. “You’re a gunslinger.”

I puff up my chest. “Why, yes, please inflate my ego more.”

She runs her hand from my bicep down to my forearm. “I’m not trying to inflate your ego here. I’m honestly just amazed at what you can do with this simple body part.”

“Wait till you can see what I do with other ones.”

Instead of tossing a zinger back my way, she presses a kiss to my bicep and lets her soft hair fall against my skin. Goosebumps rise on my arm. This woman. I run a hand through her hair. “What are you doing to me?”

She meets my eyes. “I don’t know. What am I doing to you?”

She waits for me to answer.

I brush the backs of my fingers along her cheek, answering in my head.

Everything. She’s doing everything to me—hitting me everywhere—mind, body, and straight in the heart with an arrow I’m not even sure she knows she’s aiming in that direction. But only a few hours ago, she made it clear we needed boundaries. Our playbook should be simple, not complicated. This isn’t a quarterback option; this is an easy down-and-out pass.

That’s why I turn her question around on her. “What I’m doing to you,” I say as I scoop her up, wrapping her legs around my waist, “is taking you to your bedroom.”

She squeals and ropes her arms around my neck, holding on. With her hooked around me like a koala, I carry her out of the kitchen and turn down the hall.

“Bedroom is that way.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I figured, since the hall only goes one direction.”

“You’ve never seen my bedroom.”

“Do you need to go hide teddy bears and Justin Bieber posters before I go in?”

“Don’t be silly. I did that before you came over.”

When I reach the door, I push it open with my hip. I stop and stare, as if I’ve entered a wonderland. A den of femininity. Her bed claims most of the room, and above it shines a string of lights shaped like lotus flowers. On one wall, she’s hung the word Dream in chunky letters, and on another, the letters spelling out Love are illuminated in a bright red sign. One more wall is emblazoned with Create, and the final one says Listen.

All these words are intrinsically her.

“Wow,” I say softly, as I stare. “I feel like I’ve been given the keys.”

She loops her hands tighter around my neck, saying nothing, almost as if she’s holding in words, and maybe emotion, too. My eyes roam the walls, then the bed, and then I do a double take.

Gently, I lower her to the bed, let her go, and walk to the head of the bed. She watches me as I reach for the silky purple fabric. I give it a tug. A scarf is tied to each bedpost at the top.

“So that’s what you did before I came over.”

She nods as she nibbles on her lips. “You did say you wanted to tie me up.”