Later…

I stopped counting the days. Call me superstitious, but I didn’t want to jinx us, our new normal, our new happiness. I stopped worrying about the past, the future, and started living in the now.

And right now, Jesse is about to get the surprise of his life. I shift closer against the wall as the last two players walk through the door. With gym bags slung over their shoulders they shuffle past me, chatting about the upcoming weekend and some frat party they plan to attend. My eyebrows rise. I wonder if their coach would approve.

When the door clicks closed, I take a deep breath and make my way toward the gym. With his recent promotion to assistant coach, Jesse always stays later after practices to finish paperwork and prep the next day’s workout. Sure enough, he’s gathering up a few loose basketballs, his head bent forward in concentration. For a moment I admire his tight ass, the pull of his thin, grey t-shirt stretched tight across his back. Back muscles shouldn’t be that sexy, but his are, especially since I’ve traced their outline with my tongue.

He tucks the ball under his arm and walks to the conference table set-up in front of the open bleachers, picks up a folder, and heads toward the back door to his office.

I follow quietly and stand just outside his office door. He’s looking through the lone manila folder when I clear my throat to gain his attention.

“Ahem.”

He straightens and turns toward the sound. His face softens, recognition lighting his features when his eyes land on me. “Baby.” He drops the folder back onto his desk as I approach. “What are you doing here?” He squints at the clock. “I thought you had a showing tonight?”

I just started working with a small boutique firm, Roger and Rupert Designs, staging residential properties, rentals mostly. The staff is much smaller than at LAMP (so is the pay), but so far I’ve staged three properties and they all sold within their sixty-day contract.

I nod and smile my sexiest smile. “I do have a showing.”

He looks at me expectantly, as though waiting for me to say more.

I run my finger along his bare arm, the softest of touches, yet the sizzle is electric. “I have to show you something.”

His eyes narrow in interest and his tone deepens considerably. “Okay.”

Sucking in a deep breath (and my stomach), I untie the belt of my coat and shrug it from my shoulders. A shock of air hits my bare legs and arms, and a shiver passes over me.

My eyes look down, but then I draw on my inner courage and meet his gaze. His eyes smolder, gliding from the short hem of the jersey that hits mid-thigh to the low V-neck that exposes my cleavage.

Growing uneasy, I whisper. “Say something.”

“Fuck,” he curses, as he places his hands on my waist and gently spins me around. “Fuck.”

His fingers find the hem of the material and rub the nylon, toying with me like a cat sizing up its prey before he devours it. My eyes trace the movement. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“How did you get this?”

“I have my connections.” I play coy, but actually it was super easy. I found a website online that makes replicas of college jerseys for fans to wear to games. I even paid extra to have Jesse’s name and his high school number embroidered on the back.

“Fuck, Ry. Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?”

“Maybe.” My voice is silk as I sweep my palm across the hard length tenting his shorts. “You said this was your fantasy. Your high school fantasy.”

He groans as my fingers circle his length and give a strong tug. “You,” he croaks, voice hoarse. “You’re my fantasy.”

I lean in so my lips hover over his ear. “I’m gonna need a little more direction than that.” My teeth nip before I pull away, and his strong fingers squeeze my hip as he lifts me and sets me down on the desk. The metal is cool against my skin, but I don’t care because his kiss is sending flames down my spine.

His hands are everywhere, on my thighs, pushing up the flimsy fabric, widening my legs so he can settle between them.

I encourage him. “Tell me what you’ve imagined.”

He loops his hand in mine, pulling me off the desk and toward the chair. He sits down and spreads his legs wide. His eyes are intense, hooded with lust, and his husky voice scrapes my skin. “On your knees, Riley Ann.” With one hand on my shoulder he guides me to kneel in front of him.

“Like this?” I ask, voice innocent, even though I know this is exactly what he wants.

“Fuck, yes.” His eyes fall to where the material gapes, exposing my braless chest. “Touch yourself, baby.”

Widening my knees, I slip my hand underneath the jersey, smoothing my fingers across my damp panties.

“Goddamnit.” He groans as he spreads his arms wide behind him.

My fingers slip beneath the silky material that molds to my skin. Knowing how much he likes dirty talk, I say, “I’m so wet.”

“Yeah?” His voice rises at the end, a breathless question. His erection stands straight up, almost as if it were saluting me. He’s so hard that it looks painful.

“Wanna see?” I wiggle my hips and slide the panties to my ankles. I hand them to him and he drags them across his nose and inhales.

“So fucking good.”

“No fair.” I whine, nudging my nose along his cock. “My turn.”

My fingers grab both the waistband of his shorts and boxer briefs and tug down. He lifts his ass to help me, and soon I’m eye level with the world’s most beautiful cock.

His eyes dart between his cock and me before he says. “I’m all yours.”

I return his stare, hard, intense, possessive, because he is all mine. I don’t tease or hesitate; I suck his entire length into my mouth in one swift motion. Definitely too much, too fast, because he hits the back of my throat. I gag around him, and tears spring to my eyes.

“Fuck, baby.” His fingers thread my hair, gripping, pulling. “Just like that.”

I dip my head again, suck him as deep as I can and use my hands to cradle his balls. I roll them in my hand, something I know from experience drives him crazy. His hips shoot upward, pump into my mouth and I give him everything I have, because it’s him. I want him to have every piece of me. Always. He’s my forever heart.

He thrusts deep, holds my head in place, my throat constricting around him like a tight fist. “Riley.” He croaks. “Baby, please. Oh, fuck.” He pulls back and my eyes pop open, meeting his. “Touch yourself some more, baby.”

I nod as my hand falls between my legs, and my fingers drag across my clit. The sensation is there, but I’m much too focused on him. The steady pump of his hips, the deep grunts, the strong forearms clenching on either side of my head.

He stops suddenly, his ab muscles clenching tight. His eyes find mine, almost apologetic when he says, “I wanna come on your face.”

My belly flutters, turned on rather than repulsed by the idea. Nodding, I smile and suck only the head of his cock. “What are you waiting for?” I drawl, as my free hand strokes up his length.

He knocks my hand away, his own fingers wrapping around his length. His fist is a blur as he pumps his length. “Oh, fuck, baby. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—oh.” His body seizes, his muscles rigid as he shoots streams of hot liquid onto my lips, cheeks, eyelids. My fingers band around his thighs, hold him close, as he shudders through his release. Resting my head on his belly, a contented sigh escapes my lips.

He leans back, his eyes dancing across my face. “I’m sorry.” He brushes a strand of sticky hair from my temple. “You said high school fantasy… I got carried away.”

He pulls me to stand. I rest my fingers against his lips. “No apologies. What we do together is never wrong.”

He stares at me for a beat, then his lips crash onto mine. “I fucking love you, Riley Ann.”

“I love you.”

He tugs his shorts back on. “Let’s hit the showers and get you cleaned up.”

“Hmm.” I chuckle, chasing him toward the locker room. “Time for me to live out a few fantasies of my own.”