Holy fuck.

  Is that hot?

  Yes, that is hot.

  The guy passes us, weaving into the crowd. Once he’s gone, Gabe’s focus turns back to me. Completely.

  “Do you like the new job?” he asks, as if he didn’t just turn part wolf a second ago.

  Okay, so we’re doing it this way. “I’m sure I will. We begin table reads and stuff next week, and I start meeting with Webflix for prep tomorrow.”

  “Then I shouldn’t let you stay out too late,” he says, with a naughty curve to his lips.

  “I suppose I should behave and go to bed early,” I say, then cross my legs and sit higher, straighter, like a very good girl.

  He laughs softly. “So, it seems you think I’m a good guy. Does that mean you like good guys, Ellie?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” I ask.

  I’m a little unsure now of the answer, though. I thought he was this sweetheart. He had a reputation in the neighborhood as the kind of guy you’d take home to meet your mother.

  At least, that was what I’d heard back home. Except the moms didn’t know this Gabe. They knew kind, helpful Gabe. They had no idea he’s got an intense, possessive side. A side that growls like he’d rip the head off anyone who looked at me the wrong way.

  My pulse spikes at the thought, so I give my answer an addendum. “So I guess I’ll just surprise you too.”

  He slides his arm around me and squeezes my waist. “Sweetheart, you are full of surprises,” he says.

  His fingers are kindling. They stoke the flames inside me. My skin turns hot. I can’t believe I thought lawn games would be Gabe’s speed.

  Maybe I’ll ask him after I finish this glass. We turn to small talk about my new home, and when I finish my wine, I excuse myself for the ladies’ room, heading down the dark corridor in the back to freshen up.

  But after I wash my hands and leave the bathroom, the red-haired man is waiting for me in the dimly lit hall, right across from the ladies’ room.

  My guard goes up.

  “Aren’t you Ellie Snow?” he asks, stepping closer, his tone pushy.

  Warning bells sound.

  “Yes, I am,” I say, putting on a polite but distant smile as I quickly assess the fastest way to escape him.

  But he stands between me and the exit. It’s a level three now. His eyes travel over my body in an unwelcome tour, and I cross my arms protectively.

  “I had such a crush on you in Unfinished Business,” he says. “Never missed an episode. Any chance you’d want to go out with—”

  “Not a chance in hell. She’s with me.”

  Like a superhero appearing out of nowhere, Gabe’s laying down the law as he stalks down the corridor, prowling toward the man.

  My heart beats in my throat. But whether it’s from the thought of what the guy might do or Gabe might do, I don’t even know.

  The redhead holds up his hand. “Chill, man. I didn’t know you were with her.”

  “The fuck you didn’t,” Gabe growls. “You saw her with me at the bar.”

  “Dude. Back off,” the guy says defensively. “She smiled at me. I figured she wanted to meet me too.”

  Seriously? “I was being polite,” I say, incredulous.

  “She’s polite. You’re not.” Gabe gets up in the guy’s face now.

  “You could let her make her own decisions,” the man says to Gabe.

  Another growl. “It’s not an advanced concept, man. Just basic decency. Don’t hit on a woman in the dark back hallway of a bar, especially when she’s on a date with another man.” Then he turns to me, asking, “Or, gee, sweetheart. Am I wrong? Did you want his number?”

  I shake my head, reining in a grin because he’s not joking. The grin is because he looks deadly serious about enforcing my decision, whatever it might be.

  Gabe turns back to the man. “There. You heard it from her. Leave. And stay the fuck away from another man’s date. She is mine.”

  I’m not grinning now. I’ve been heating up since he appeared in the corridor. The quickened heartbeat from earlier? Now I feel a rapid ache. And I am soaked.

  The man deflates and mumbles, “Sorry,” to Gabe, who points to me.

  “You were rude to her. Tell her you’re sorry.”

  “Sorry,” the guy says to me, dipping his face.

  “Thanks,” I say, then he rushes past Gabe with his tail between his legs.

  Gabe watches till he’s gone then turns to me, jaw ticking, dark eyes flaring with heat and residual anger.

  “You shouldn’t have to deal with that shit,” he says, his voice tight, “whether you’re with me or alone.”

  I lick my lips. “But I’m with you tonight,” I whisper.

  “Damn right you are,” he says.

  My skin sizzles. My pulse surges. “So I’m yours?”

  His eyes glimmer with desire. All his annoyance seems to have vanished. He closes the distance, grabs my wrists, then pins them behind my back. He presses his strong, big frame against mine, his hard-on grinding against my hip.

  Dear god.

  “Yes, you are,” he growls.

  I wait for him to come for my lips.

  But instead, he lays a hot, hungry kiss on the hollow of my throat.

  I moan.

  When he pulls back, he says, “Want to know why I looked you up?”

  “I do,” I say, breathless.

  “Because you’re finally old enough that I can ask the next question.”

  I tug on his shirt, gripping the fabric in my fist. “What is it?”

  His eyes roam up and down my face, my tits, my legs. I’m pretty sure he’s already undressed me mentally. Pretty sure, in his mind, his face is between my thighs right now.

  He stares hotly at me, then asks, “Can I take you home and fuck you?”

  So I was wrong. It’s not his face between my legs. And I’m more than okay with that.

  I gasp out a throaty “yes.”

  9

  HANDY LESSONS

  Gabe

  I got carried away back at the bar. Came on too strong and demanded too much. Now I’m walking Ellie home, with her slowly riding her scooter beside me, and my brain’s taken over the thinking from my dick once more.

  I have a whole mile to contemplate all the ways that sleeping with the too-sweet Ellie Snow is a terrible idea. It’d be a mistake at a basic level, screwing a family friend, someone I’ll see at Christmas parties, at picnics, at Thanksgivings. I just ended a long-term relationship where my ex and I were woefully incompatible in the bedroom. I knew she wasn’t into the same things, yet I stayed longer than I should have, trying to make it work, hoping it would help her trust issues.

  Look where that got me.

  Jumping into bed with another good girl would be repeating the same mistake.

  With my luck, I’ll probably run into Ellie at my aunt’s next eggnog-tasting party, and she’ll call me a pervert under the mistletoe.

  That settles it. I’m going to walk her home, shake her hand at the door, then catch a Lyft back to my place.

  Now that I’m not envisioning worst-case scenarios, I have the brain space to make small talk. As we cross the next street, I nod to her helmet. “Cute helmet.”

  There.

  She tosses me a flirty look. “You have a thing for pink,” she says.

  My gaze travels down to her pink cropped top, and I’m busted. This is what happens when I try to behave. She keys in on my preference for pink.

  “Pink is pretty on you,” I say evenly, keeping my compliment girl-next-door appropriate and not letting on that I want to rip her clothes off. “Suits you. Nice and sweet.” I don’t add that the innocence of pink fries my brain and heats my skin. I have to remember she’s a family friend who I’ll probably see again soon.

  Like at this weekend’s birthday party for Ellie’s aunt—my mom’s bestie.

  No way can I fuck Ellie tonight, then face her at a lawn party.

  Playing croquet.

  No thanks.

  Ellie turns her gaze to me. “So, I’m nice and sweet?” It’s a clear question, but maybe there’s an eye roll happening too. I’m not sure in the dark. “Are you saying I’m like candy, Gabe?”

  “Everyone likes candy,” I say evasively, so I don’t linger too long on how much like candy she is, mainly in that I want to lick her every-fucking-where.

  Great. Now I’m walking with a hard-on.

  New topic—stat. “The scooter lifestyle has become a thing here in the beach towns.” I nod to her ride as we turn onto the next block, passing under a streetlamp. “You’ve taken to it quickly. Did you ride one in New York?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. I walked everywhere in New York. Or took the subway. I’m a scooter virgin. But my friend Maddox lives here in LA, and he gave it to me as a gift,” she says.

  I know a Maddox. Could it be the same guy? “Don’t tell me your bud is Maddox LeGrande,” I say. This is a big city, but I’m desperate for a topic with no pitfalls.

  Her eyes widen. “That’s him. How—? Oh…” She smiles brightly. “He’s a sports agent. Wait—does he rep you?”

  “Nope. But he takes care of my quarterback, Drew Adams, and my buddy Carter Hendrix on the Renegades. He’s sharp. One of the best in the biz.”

  Talking shop is keeping the tent in my pants down. I’m brilliant. I only need to steer the convo to where I can apologize for my too-forward suggestion, then somehow walk away once we reach her house.

  Before I figure out how to start, though, we turn into a driveway, where Ellie opens the garage from her phone. “I need to let Gigi out real quick. Want to meet her?” She sounds so hopeful.

  A good guy would say hi to her dog. “Absolutely.”

  I’ll say hello, then jet.

  Ellie shuts the garage, then opens the door to her home, and a blond blur of fur rushes at her, hopping up and down, barking enthusiastically.

  The woman’s face lights up. “Hello, my little lady. I know, I know. You have to go to the little girls’ room,” she says, baby-talking the pooch.

  I cannot fuck a woman with a chihuahua. Is there any more obvious sign that Ellie’s vanilla? A chihuahua is like the secret handshake of the sweet vanilla girl club.

  I cannot corrupt her and then face retribution over croquet.

  My mom would take me to task. My aunt would too. They’d point out the ten-year age difference between Ellie and me. They’d remind me I used to babysit her.

  The dog jumps once more, then notices me. The football-sized mutt whips around to face me, transforming into an unholy terror.

  Hell, her dog will have my ass too.

  “Gigi thinks she’s a German shepherd.” Ellie scoops up the pup and tells her, “Gabe is a friend. You can say hi to him.”

  Friend.

  That’s a gut punch. And it smarts, but hell, it’s for the best. Ellie’s making it clear how she sees me. Gigi must agree, since she settles down, lip uncurling, ears swiveling forward like radar dishes. I pet the pup’s chin. The cutie lifts it higher, asking for more. “Ooh, you’re charming her too,” Ellie coos to me, then puts the dog down. Beckoning me along, Gigi heads to the back door.

  Fine, one dog visit, then I am making my excuses.

  Ellie slides open the back door, and while her pup races across the yard, the woman in pink slinks over to me on her deck, stopping less than a foot away, right next to an Adirondack chair. She nibbles on the corner of her lips.

  A groan escapes me, unbidden, at how much I want to bite those lips too.

  She’s not making my great escape any easier. Everything’s harder.

  Then she inches closer, reaches for my shirt, tugs me toward her. “Hi. So about that question you asked me. Can we start answering it?”

  Be strong.

  Resist.

  But when Ellie Snow stares wantonly at my mouth, my control starts to fray. One kiss, then I’ll go.

  One standard order kiss.

  Tenderly, I pull her against me. “Can I kiss you?” I ask.

  Her brow creases. Her eyes are full of question marks. “Um, yeah,” she says, like duh.

  But I have to treat her carefully for this kiss, or I’ll be in a heap of trouble. So I cup her cheeks. Gently. Then I press my lips to hers and give her a barely-there smooch. I kiss slowly, stroking her cheek as I brush my lips across hers.

  Take your time. Treat her with care. She won’t throw rocks at you at the party, then.

  But even like this, she’s soft and sexy. Maybe, just maybe, I can learn to like this pace. For her.

  Hell, with the way she smells—like cherry blossoms—and feels—like a sexy dream—I can like anything with her.

  But does she even like this? She’s kissing me back tentatively. Slowly, like she’s testing the waters. But gradually, she takes the reins, kissing a little harder. Then Ellie rises on tiptoes and kisses me deep.

  Oh, fuck. That’s real nice.

  I slide a hand through her hair, tenderly stroking her strands, keeping my cool when the dog who thinks she’s a German Shepherd tells me off in a few sharp, stern barks.

  I break the kiss. “She’s trying to tell me something, I think.”

  Mischief glitters in Ellie’s eyes. “Fortunately, I speak dog,” she says, then picks up the critter. “What did you say, Gigi?”

  She pretends to listen to the dog, then nods, pops the pup inside the house, and returns to me. Lifting her chin, she meets my eyes with a fearless gaze. There’s been a shift from before she let the dog inside. She’s ramping up to something.

  “Gabe, I want you to kiss me like you’ll die if you don’t.”

  Wait. That doesn’t sound like a good girl request.

  “Then fuck me so hard I scream.”

  My world flips upside down. Are you kidding me?

  But she doesn’t need to ask twice. In a flash, I grip her waist, spin her around, and push her up against the wall. I devour her candy lips. In less than a second, she’s squirming.

  Yes, fucking yes.

  I crush her mouth. Kiss her mercilessly. She moans, a scorching, seductive sound that goes straight to my balls.

  I up the ante, grabbing her soft hair, wrapping the strands tightly in my fist. Then tugging hard.

  She gasps, then murmurs, “Yessss.”

  I dip my face to her neck and bite hard enough to leave a mark.

  She answers by grabbing my ass with both hands. Yanks me against her.

  Yes, you do only live once.

  I grin wickedly as I lick a path to her ear then nip her earlobe.

  “Oh god,” she whimpers, then grinds against me.

  “This the surprise you wanted?” I rasp out.

  “Yes. God, yes. For a while there, I thought you were going to be…really vanilla.”

  I laugh. We were really working at cross purposes. But I’m fucking delighted over our good luck. “And I thought you were.”

  “I’m not at all,” she says with that same naughty list grin.

  I grin. “Me neither.” Then I erase the smile and stare sternly at her. “And for doubting me, you’ll need to turn around right now, and raise your ass,” I command.

  Her eyes gleam. “Yes, sir,” she taunts.

  I spin her around, shove her hands up against the smooth wood of the outside wall of her house, then smack her ass. “Did I say to call me sir?” I ask harshly.

  “No, but I did it anyway,” she says, the fucking vixen.

  I swat her covered cheek harder.

  She cries out.

  My dick thumps against my jeans. That fucker is so damn happy right now. Ellie Snow is a dirty, kinky girl.

  “Call me by my name only. Say it if you’re aching for my dick,” I tell her.

  “Gabe,” she groans.

  “Good girl,” I tell her.

  Grabbing her wrists, I push her hands over her head and grind my hard-on against her ass. “You want me to spank you for lying to me?”

  She turns to me, an earnest look in her eyes. “How did I lie to you?”

  I brush my stubble against the smooth skin of her face. “You pretended to be good, but you’re very, very bad,” I hiss.

  “So bad, Gabe,” she pants. “Maybe you need to spank me again. Punish me.”

  “You need to be taught a lesson.”

  “Teach me, Gabe,” she purrs.

  I sweep her hair to the side, kiss her neck, lick a path to her jawline. She tastes so good, and my head swims with lust. “Mmm. But I think I’ll make you wait for the next lesson of my hand.”

  “Why?” she whines.

  “You need to prove you want me to fuck you hard.”

  She pants. “How?”

  “Show me how turned on you are.” I let go of her. Step back. Wait.

  Slowly, she spins around, her lips parted. “Where do you want me?”

  I point to the Adirondack chair. “Take off your skirt and get in that chair. Show me your pussy.”

  10

  WHY I LIKE PINK

  Gabe

  Once she strips off her skirt and panties, she perches on the edge of the chair. Her breath comes in staggered gasps of anticipation.

  Mine escapes in a long, guttural groan.

  She’s so fucking pretty.

  I stare savagely at her slick, pink center. A thin landing strip leads to the paradise between her thighs. I’m so ready to feast on her, but there’s one problem. Standing in front of her, stroking the hard outline of my cock, I arch a brow. “That’s good, sweetheart. But there’s an issue. You keep defying me.”

  “How?” she asks, wobbly but breathlessly.

  I narrow my eyes. “I told you to get in the chair. Not to sit in it.”

  Her brown eyes sparkle. “How do you want me…Gabe?” There’s a deliberate pause before my name as her gaze drifts down her body, inviting me to look.

  She’s glistening even more.

  I point and draw a circle in the air. “Stand, turn around, and lift that sweet ass for me.”

  She obeys.

  “Now, bend over, and hold on to the arms of the chair.”

  She complies again, and I groan at the filthy, beautiful sight. Her long, lean legs. Her creamy flesh. Her wet pussy.