They say a photograph is worth a thousand words.

I’ve never been more tempted to take a photo in my life. But I want to experience all one thousand words that this moment is worth. And then some.

Violet lies naked on her bed, her arms stretched above her head, her right wrist bound by a purple scarf, her left by a red one. The lights from the lotus strands cast a pretty glow across her skin.

I run my hand down her neck, between her breasts, along her stomach. She arches into my touch. My fingers make their way south, teasing at the soft curls of hair, then dipping lower. Her mouth falls open, but before I spend more time in the V of her legs, I stand beside the bed.

“Want to know why I wanted you tied up?”

“Because you like me tied up?”

I laugh as I lift my hands to the hem of my shirt. “That, and to reduce temptation.”

She narrows her eyes. “Seeing me naked and trussed up makes you less interested. Gee, thanks, Coop.”

“No,” I say roughly as I tug off my shirt.

Her breath hitches. “Oh shit.” She stares at me with wide eyes. “You’re . . .”

Yeah, this is why I work out. This is why I run. This is why I lift weights. For this moment. For the look in her eyes. For the heat in her gaze as she stares at my chest, and as she ogles my arms.

“You’re torturing me,” she whimpers.

“How am I torturing you?”

“Because I can’t touch you, and your body is unreal.”

I raise a hand to my pec, drag it down my chest, over the grooves of my abs. I drop my hands to my jeans and undo the first button with a pop.

“Cooper.” Her voice is a plea.

“Yes, Violet?”

“Why can’t I touch you? You’re stunning.”

Every early morning workout was worthwhile. Every bench press has proven its value.

I’m not a narcissist. I don’t need praise. But I’m so goddamn satisfied that she likes what she sees.

Wait.

Make that lust.

She lusts for what she sees.

“You’re pretty stunning yourself,” I say as I unzip my jeans.

She squirms on the bed, her hips lifting. My dick hardens more as I watch her try to somehow pull me closer with the way she offers herself. I push my jeans down my hips to my thighs, then all the way off. Nothing but black boxer briefs. She struggles against the scarves as she stares at the outline of my erection, straining against the fabric. “I want to touch you.”

“I know,” I say, my voice dry. “I want you to touch me. But you tempt me too much.”

“That’s why I’m tied up?”

I step closer, the outline of my cock inches from her face. She turns toward my hard-on, which is pointing at her.

“Yes, because if you touch me, Vi, I swear I’ll lose my mind with pleasure. If you touch me, I’ll have you on your hands and knees so fast so I can fuck you.”

She throws her head back and nearly howls. “Oh God.”

“So this is how it’s going to be. You can look, but I’m the only one who can touch.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “That’s not fair.”

“Baby, it has to be this way,” I say, imploring.

“I know.”

I hook my thumb into the waistband of my briefs and then wiggle a brow. “Did you want me to take these off? I’m not sure.”

“Please.”

I push them off, and my cock springs free, jutting out.

Her jaw falls open. “Are you for real?”

A smile tugs on my lips. “Pretty sure I am.”

“Oh my God,” she groans as she stares at me. “You have the most perfect dick.”

I bend to her, and run my finger across her top lip. “You have the most perfect filthy mouth for such a good, sweet girl.”

I grip my dick, running my fist up and down my length. I close my eyes, shuddering, because it feels really fucking good to get some action, even with my hand, the only body part that’s touched my dick in months. But for the first time in all that time, I have an audience. I’m not alone. I stand by the head of her bed, and I stroke my cock mere inches from her face. She writhes, twisting onto her side as she moans my name.

It sounds like pure porn on her tongue.

I run my left hand along my chest, over a nipple, pinching it as she stares. Then down between my legs, gripping my balls, which are heavy and aching.

She moans as I stroke and tug. I moan, too. Then I let go, so I can get on the bed. I straddle her, clamping my hands on her hips.

“Are you going to . . .”

I shake my head. “No. I’m not going to fuck you tonight. I’m going to come on you. Like you wanted.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

I move up her, kneeling over her stomach, so I can fuck my fist as she stares.

“Feels so much better when you watch me do this,” I groan as I stroke from base to tip and back.

Lust surges inside me, barreling down my spine as I devour her with my eyes. My God, she’s so stunning, all curvy, sexy, and soft.

Her gaze never strays. She watches with a wild abandon, her amber eyes glossy with desire that matches mine. She nibbles on the corner of her lips, so hungry, so greedy. And I can’t wait. I need to know how her lips taste on my dick.

“Kiss the tip,” I whisper hoarsely.

She nods savagely, and I shift forward, planting a palm on the mattress by her outstretched arm as I rub the head of my dick across her lips.

She darts her tongue out instantly, flicking it over the head, and I growl in pleasure. A drop of liquid beads at the tip, and she licks it up greedily. Her eyes are hooded as if she’s savoring my taste. She opens her lips more, trying to entice me to fuck her mouth. Desire nearly strangles me. It practically lassos all my restraint to the ground. But I stay in control, fucking her with my words, instead. “You want to suck me off, baby?”

“You know I do.”

I rub the head over her top lip, loving—fucking loving—her tongue on me. “I want your mouth on me so bad, Vi,” I tell her as I keep up my pace, gripping my fist tighter as I stroke my shaft.

“Let me,” she begs.

Another drop of my arousal spills from my dick onto her lips, and her tongue hunts it out instantly, lapping it up. I rub the head against her bottom lip. She flicks her tongue out once more, and I’d really like to feel her all over me. That’s my cue to pull away from her far-too-tempting mouth.

“Don’t go,” she says in a sexy, needy whimper as I move down her body.

“I’m right here.” I settle above her pussy, my hand working my cock, stroking, tugging, driving her wild. Driving myself wild.

My muscles tighten everywhere. Tension expands inside me, overtaking me with a wicked intensity as I jerk harder, faster.

I’m all for masturbating. I’m all for pleasure. Orgasms of every variety rock, including solo flights. And while I’m dying for her to get me off, this will do just fine for now.

This will do more than fine.

Because pleasure consumes me. It camps out in my body, fills me completely as I shuttle my fist tighter, rasping out, “Where do you want me to come, baby?”

“My tits, my belly, my face, anywhere.”

“Oh fuck,” I groan, closing my eyes as my world burns white-hot and everything blurs into the pleasure that shoots down my spine, climbs up my thighs, obliterates all my senses as my body jerks and I come on her stomach. All the fuck over her beautiful, sexy, soft belly.

I groan her name, getting out only the first, seductive syllable. “Vi,” I grunt as I squeeze the last drops onto her skin.

My shoulders shake, and when I finally get a grip on reality, I find she’s breathing hard, panting, lifting her hips, and staring at the evidence of my pleasure on her body. She murmurs my name as if it’s all she’s ever wanted to say.

Her voice goes to my head. Sinks into my heart. Reminds me that I’m in so deep.

I try to clear my head. I tell myself to focus on the here and now. On my job this second. “Let me clean you up,” I say, then I climb off her and head to her bathroom. I grab a washcloth, wet a corner with warm water, and return to erase my orgasm from her skin. I find the laundry basket in the corner, filled with her clothes, and I drop the washcloth on top and shoot her a naughty grin. “Thanks for letting me come on you.”

“You dirty man,” she says. “You dirty, clever man, finding a loophole to keep your pact.”

I lift my chin then drink in her body with my eyes. “I am pretty clever. And now I have another idea.”

“What are you thinking?”

“How I’m going to make you come.”

“Any way is fine with me.”

I arch a brow. “Any way?”

“Any way at all.”

“Do you have a vibrator?”

“Do I like chocolate? Do I like music and sunsets and puppies?” She nods to the nightstand. “Top drawer.”

I slide open the drawer and grab a pink one with a dolphin attachment. I hit the on button, and the shaft takes off, vibrating at Mach speed. “Down, Flipper,” I say, then adjust the speed. I settle myself between her legs, sitting cross-legged so I can play with her. “Wider, baby.”

She parts her thighs, letting them fall open for me. A groan rumbles up my chest as I admire the sight in front of me. She’s so wet, so aroused, and I’m going to fuck her.

Well, this dolphin is. “He’s my back up.”

She strains against the scarves. “Please.”

I rub the head of the shaft against her hot, wet center. She shudders when I touch her, breathing hard. Then, her eyes travel down my chest. “I looked up shirtless pictures of you last night.”

I startle, surprised by this admission as I press the head against her wet folds. “You did?”

She arches into my touch. “I wanted to remember what you looked like.”

As I play with the vibrator, stroking it against her wet heat, I ask, “What did you find?”

Her words come out in a rush. “Training camp shots. Sponsor shots. None of them do you justice.”

I push inside, and she cries out, thrusting up against the pleasure device. It’s only a few inches inside her, and she’s already trying to fuck it. As she rocks into it, she keeps talking, as if she’s confessing. “I used to love watching you take your shirt off in high school.”

“You did?” I slide the vibrator deeper into her, and she gasps, taking it all. I flick on the dolphin, rubbing her clit with it. With my free hand, I widen her legs even more.

“Yes,” she cries out, and it’s both a reply to my question, and the answer to whether she likes how I’m touching her.

“I fucking love that you were watching me,” I say as I push the shaft in her, hitting deep, then stroking it out.

She parts her lips, but she can’t even seem to form words. She’s moaning and groaning and grinding into the vibrator, and she’s so clearly close to shattering. She slips into some kind of exquisite torment, the look on her face both anguish and bliss. Her eyes squeeze shut and her lips fall open, as she seems to chase her pleasure.

My dick is steel again, and I’m already turned on beyond reason. Her hips rise over and over as she fucks the toy, and I fuck her, and I wish it was me inside her. My mouth on her mouth, her body beneath me, feeling her grip me, feeling her come on me, coming inside her.

Her mouth turns into an O. Then she twists her hips, crying out in pleasure. “Oh God, oh God,” she pants, moaning, tossing her head back and forth, the picture of erotic bliss, and I can barely take it. I can barely withstand my own lust as she comes undone before my eyes, her hands tied, her hips lifting, her lips parted. Coming for me. Beneath me. Because of me. I want more of this. I want all of this.

I am on fire for her.

I slide the vibrator out of her, turn it off, and toss it on the covers. Then I do the riskiest thing in the world. I untie her. First one arm, then the other, and in seconds we are wrapped around each other, two hot, sweaty bodies, sliding together. I’m kissing her wrists, making sure they don’t sting, and she’s naked and rubbing against me.

“They don’t hurt,” she says and pulls her hands free from my grip to bring them to my face. “It only feels good.”

“I wanted to kiss you at prom,” I blurt out, picking up where we left off in our mutual confession.

“You did?”

“So much. You were so pretty. We were slow dancing to one song, and I wanted to thread my hands in your hair and kiss you.” She presses her soft breasts against my chest. My skin burns with desire. She’s so close to me. She’s all over me. She’s everywhere, and I want to feel all of her.

I groan as I yank her impossibly closer, my cock pressed to her thigh, her pussy rubbing against my other leg.

“I would have let you,” she whispers, her words sending a sharp, hot thrill through me.

“Yeah?”

She nods, kissing me, claiming my lips. “You could have kissed me then. You could have kissed me anytime. I wanted you to kiss me at my brother’s wedding when you danced with me.”

I close my eyes as my palms slide up her back and into her hair. “I wanted that, too,” I murmur, then curl my hands around her head and bring her closer, slamming my lips to hers and kissing her till we are both senseless, mindless, boneless.

We’re side to side, and rubbing against each other. Flesh to flesh. Skin to skin. All heat, and desire, and something more. Something that’s so damn dangerous. My heart feels as if it’s going to fucking explode in my chest. It hammers wildly for this woman, and I can’t stop touching her. My hands are everywhere. My lips are all over her mouth, her jaw, her neck. Her fingers roam my body, touching, exploring, searching.

We hunt for ways to get even closer. Our kisses are hungry and greedy. We are two desperate people who can’t get enough of each other. When we kiss now, it feels like making love, and I’m losing control. I’m losing my mind for her. All this nakedness, all this heat—it’s combustible. I tug her closer, pushing my hard length against her mound. As we move, my cock slips between her legs.

I groan so loudly it’s deafening to my own ears. Because the sensation is dizzying. I’m not inside her, not even close, but like this, it’s absolutely electrifying to feel her slickness against my hardness. I thrust once, my shaft gliding across her.

She moans, a long, sexy ohh.

It nearly breaks me. I’m so ready to flip her to her back, hike her legs over my shoulders, and sink into her.

One more thrust. One more deliriously good slide against my girl.

Then reality smacks me hard.

I can’t fake fuck her. I certainly can’t fake fuck her without a condom. I won’t play with fire, and this is a burning-down-the-forest level of danger.

I freeze, willing my hands to stop moving along her flesh, forcing my body to disengage from hers. I curse up a storm, then I do what I’ve been taught to do to avoid a hit I can’t handle—get out of bounds. I jump out of bed, moving away from her.

“Shit, Vi.” I drag my hands roughly through my hair as I grab for my clothes. “You’re too tempting. I want you too much.”

She looks chastened. “What does that even mean?”

I yank on my boxer briefs. “If I stay for another minute, I will be fucking you. I will be fucking you all night long. I won’t want to stop.” I drag a hand through my hair roughly. “I need to get it together.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to will away this raging desire. When I open my eyes, I breathe out hard like a bull.

She reaches for a sheet and pulls it to her chest, covering her beautiful body. “That better?”

I grab my jeans. “It’s worse and it’s better. I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I seem like an ass.”

She sighs. “Let me walk you to the door.”

Two minutes later, she’s in a short, satiny robe, her hair a wild mess, her cheeks glowing. I’m dressed and both satisfied and blue-balled. But I have a job to do, and I can’t let things with her go any further. There’s too much at stake.

I cup her cheek. “I leave tomorrow. I’ll be thinking of you.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t think of me. Think of destroying Baltimore.”

My God, she’s a perfect football girlfriend.

I mean, fake girlfriend.

Fake girlfriend who I nearly real fucked.