The pleasure that rolled through me was so intense, so incredible, that I was pretty sure I blacked out for a second. When I came back to earth, back to reality, Charlie was still on his knees in front of me, wearing a devilish grin that was so sexy that I almost came again.

“Wow,” he said.

“Wow?” I struggled to sit up, waiting to feel embarrassed or self-conscious. But I didn’t. Not at all. I just felt good. Really, really good. “Wow yourself,” I told him, grinning.

He gave me another heart-stopping smile as he stood, holding his hand out to me. I could tell that he was still turned on, but he gave no indication that he was feeling frustrated or teased. In fact, he seemed pretty damn satisfied with what had happened.

I let him help me to my feet, which I definitely needed since my legs seemed to have turned to jelly. Then, without warning, he swept me up into his arms. He was so strong. He carried me, as if I weighed nothing, to the bed.

“Want to watch another movie?” he asked, putting me down next to the enormous king-sized bed. “Or I can get a car to take you home.”

I blinked at him. So we could Netflix and Chill, only I was the only one who got to experience the “chill” part, or I could go home? I looked at Charlie—his naked chest unbearably beautiful—and thought about snuggling up next to that, our bare skin pressed against each other. I didn’t even have to think about it.

Lifting up the covers, I slid into the bed. “You can pick the movie this time,” I told him, watching with great interest as he stripped off his jeans, leaving him in a pair of tight—very tight—black briefs.

He crawled in next to me, pulling me close to him. But he didn’t try anything. He just reached for the remote and we fell asleep watching old reruns of Doctor Who.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of a door slamming and footsteps coming towards me. For a moment, I thought it was Paige or Aunt Suze, coming to wake me up, but then I realized there was a very warm, very firm body pressed up against me and I was definitely not in my aunt’s guest room on her lumpy sofa bed. Nor did my aunt swear like an Irish sailor—well, she did, but not in a masculine voice.

“What the fuck are you playing at, sonny?”

Lifting my head, I found an irate, red-faced man, swearing up a storm, at the foot of the bed I was currently occupying. I shrieked, gathering the blankets around me, as I realized that I was completely naked.

The warm body next to me stirred, and when Charlie woke, he blinked first at me—a lazy smile coming over his face—and then glanced over at the man who had stormed into the hotel room, his grin vanishing instantly.

“Sorry about this, luv.” He gave me a kiss on the forehead, and leapt out of bed. “Bloody hell, Garrett,” he told the older man, who had averted his eyes but was still swearing, though now it was mostly under his breath. “I have a guest here.”

A guest who had seen me butt-naked.

“I can see that,” Garrett said with obvious annoyance, though he tipped his hand in my direction. “Apologies, miss.”

I wanted to die. I wanted to crawl into a hole in the center of the earth and die. Instead, I settled for curling up into the blankets, hoping that I could disappear into them.

“You have a match today,” Garrett was telling Charlie.

“And I have a guest right now,” Charlie retorted. “Everything else can wait.”

That made me feel a little better. And thankfully it was enough to clear Garrett out of the room. When Charlie returned to the bed, his arms were full of my clothes. I was reminded of everything that had happened the night before and the self-consciousness that had neglected to show itself immediately after my orgasm reared its ugly head at that moment.

“Hey.” Charlie notched a finger under my chin and lifted my eyes to his. “Don’t get embarrassed now, Lady Luck.”

The nickname made me blush, but in a good way this time.

“I had an amazing time last night,” he continued.

“Really?” I arched an eyebrow at him. “Even though you didn’t—?” I glanced down at his black briefs.

His extremely full black briefs.

Charlie chuckled. “Watching you come was more than enough,” he told me, and my entire body tingled at the rough, sexy tone of his voice. “Besides, good things come to those who wait.”

“Do they now?” I teased.

“I hope so.”

There was a loud knock at the door and I could hear Garrett on the other side, once again swearing. I flinched, but Charlie just sighed.

“As much as I hate to go, I’m afraid my coach might murder me if I don’t.”

He gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Order whatever you want from room service,” he told me. “Will I see you after the match?”

I nodded. “I’ll be at the refreshments tent.”

“Brilliant.” He touched a finger to my cheek. “I’ll be sure to get my refreshments from the prettiest girl there once I get my arse properly kicked.”

“Don’t say that,” I told him as he pulled on clothes. “You could win.”

Charlie snorted. “I don’t think so, but you’re sweet to say.”

“Well, good luck, either way.”

“Who needs luck?” He winked at me. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

I was practically walking on air by the time I got to work that morning, even though I was really cutting it close as far as arriving on time. I hated being late, but it was probably the only time I would be able to excuse my tardiness because I was eating a luxurious room service-ordered breakfast in bed. Not that I would be giving Mr. Smyth that reason. I had just walked into the tent when I was immediately accosted by Paige, whose eyes were wide and excited.

“Tell me everything!” she ordered, tossing me the spare uniform I had asked her to bring.

Jules was right behind her. “You look like you had a wonderful evening,” she added.

I blushed. I couldn’t seem to stop blushing. It had been a magical evening. Charlie had been amazing—sexy and funny and kind and nice. I had forgotten what it was like to be with a guy who was nice. Once upon a time I thought guys like Zeke were nice guys—guys who listened to you, who paid attention, who said they cared about what you were feeling. But guys like Zeke were doing it only in the hopes of getting sex. Charlie seemed to actually care. At least, he hadn’t thrown a hissy fit when I slowed things down. I was kind of amazed how Charlie had acted. It was more romantic than I could have imagined.

“Oh my god!” Paige slammed her hands down on the bar and leaned towards me. “You slept with him. Thank god!” She lifted her palms towards the sky.

“Stop it.” I slapped her hands. “Technically, yes, I slept with him.”

Paige’s smile dropped. “What is this ‘technically’ bullshit?” she demanded.

Jules, too, looked very disappointed, crossing her arms.

I pulled them both closer, lowering my voice. “We did not have sex,” I hissed. “But we did . . . other things.”

Paige let out a cheer, and I let out a sigh.

“Shhh,” I ordered her. “Don’t make a scene.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Please. I covered for you, remember? You owe me at least a few nasty details.”

“And I deserve to hear them as well because it’s been way too long for me,” Jules added. “I need to live vicariously through someone.”

I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to tell them what they wanted to know without feeling like I was doing the whole kiss-and-tell thing that I imagined Charlie would not appreciate.

“All I will say is that I had a good time.” I paused, a Cheshire cat grin spreading across my face at the memory. “A very good time.”

“So he’s a beast on and off the court,” Paige teased.

“He’s a gentleman,” I countered, thinking of how sweet he had been that morning.

If Paige had a retort, it was lost in the crowd of people that arrived for their pre-match beverages. I threw myself into the work, but couldn’t help wondering how Charlie’s match was going. My chest kept tightening with anxiety and whenever I could, I’d look over at the feed playing in the tent and watch what was happening on the court.

Even though he hadn’t thought much of his chances today, I wanted him to win. But if he did, I didn’t catch it, getting swarmed with orders just as the match was getting really exciting. I kept trying to catch glimpses of the TV but I couldn’t see enough to figure out what had happened, and by the time the crowds cleared, the match was over.

“Did you see who won?” I asked Paige when we had a second.

She shook her head, looking just as disappointed as I felt. “I heard it was a really good match,” she offered. “It was apparently really close, which isn’t how it was last year.”

“So that’s good, right?” I really needed to learn more about tennis.

“Oh yeah,” said Paige. “There was no competition last year. Charlie is good, but he didn’t have any polish. Looks like he’s been working on that this year. At least that’s what people have been saying. But even if he won this match, he’s still the dark horse to win the whole enchilada,” she told me.

Still, I couldn’t help hoping that when he found me after my shift, we would be going out and celebrating, not commiserating. I chewed my lip, watching for him, anxious to see him, wondering if he would wait until later to come get me. Suddenly a pair of hands covered my eyes.

I spun around to find Charlie there, still in his tennis whites, sweaty and gorgeous, and grinning like a fiend. It was a grin that could only mean one thing.

“You won?” I cried.

“All thanks to you,” he confirmed.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and he spun me around. There was a flash of light, and I realized that someone had taken a picture of us. Immediately I drew away, and he did the same, shooting an annoyed look in the direction of whoever had taken the picture.

“Fucking paparazzi,” he muttered, but his smile returned when he looked at me. “We need to celebrate,” he said. “And my next game isn’t until Monday. I’ve got the whole weekend off. What do you want to do with me?” He asked the question with a twinkle in his eye.

I blushed, thinking—in detail—of the all naughty, naked things I wanted to do with him. And from the expression on his face, I could tell he was thinking along similar lines. But as much as I wanted to do more of what we had done last night—way, way more—I still didn’t want to jump into anything. And I definitely didn’t want to just jump into bed.

Across the room, Jules and Paige were huddled together whispering. From the way they kept looking over at me and Charlie, it was pretty obvious what they were talking about. I caught Paige’s eye and waved her over. Her face lit up and she practically bounded over, pulling Jules behind her.

“Charlie, these are my friends, Paige and Jules,” I made the introductions.

“I’m a huge fan,” said Paige, with absolutely no artifice. I saw Charlie tense until she continued. “Your showing at Wimbledon last year was intense! And that topspin shot at the end of your match with Willis?” she fanned herself. “That was amazing!!”

Charlie gave her a huge grin. “You and my coach should talk,” he told her. “Because he said my showing was absolutely rubbish.”

Paige waved her hand. “Pshaw, what does he know?”

“Well, he is a former champ.” Charlie was clearly amused. “But hey, I’ll let the two of you battle it out for the soul of my tennis game.”

“Fantastic.” Paige bounced on her feet. “I’ll take him on.”

“I have no doubt.” Charlie slung his arm over my shoulders, and I saw the girls’ eyebrows shoot upwards. “So, ladies, what’s the plan for tonight?”

Jules and Paige exchanged a look.

“We were talking about going to Aces and Eights,” Jules offered. “It’s a wicked dive bar with pizza and pinball.”

“That sounds great!” I told them, but then glanced at Charlie’s expression. It was decidedly less enthusiastic. “Oh, did you have something else in mind?”

He shook his head. “I was just thinking of what happened at the last dive bar we went to.”

My cheeks got hot remembering how we had made out in the booth until Declan had interrupted us. And he had interrupted us because there were people trying to take pictures of Charlie.

“Oh, right, the paparazzi.”

I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. I really wanted to spend time with Charlie, but I wanted to see London as well. I couldn’t imagine spending the day having to run away from photographers, or skulk in the shadows so nobody saw us. Then I got an idea. It was crazy, but it might just work.

“How do you feel about hats?” I asked him.