“My friend Veronica started a sex-toy subscription box,” I say. Then I catch him up to speed with Date Night for One. “And she has clients all over the country now. She’s done so well.”

  “She’s an entrepreneur. That’s fantastic,” Gabe says. I’m so happy that he sees that—and that he said it. How many guys would have gone for the easy joke about her peddling sex toys?

  “She is,” I agree. “After some complications at her last job, she had to reinvent herself, but it turned into something that makes her happy.”

  “We should all aspire to find some happiness in what we do. From what you were telling me last night about your show, it sounds like you feel that way about your job too?”

  “I do,” I say as we round a bend in the course toward the next hole. “I’m guessing it’s the same for you?”

  “Absolutely. Every goddam game I play. It’s such a rush.” But he doesn’t say more about football, instead turning the talk back to me. “I know you miss your friends.”

  My heart squeezes. “So much. But I’ve already made a brand-new friend in LA,” I say, then I tell him about Rachel as we take turns on the course. “What about you? You’ve been traded a bunch of times. You were in Miami, in Las Vegas, in Seattle. Was it hard to go to so many teams?”

  Then I wince. Is that a sore spot?

  “I guess nobody wants to keep me,” he says, with an exaggerated frown.

  I bump my shoulder against his firm arm, relieved he took it lightly. “Please. I think it’s because everybody in the league wants you,” I say, upbeat. I hope he sees it that way too. “I’m no football expert, but I think it shows you’re versatile and can fit into any team. And that you can handle anything thrown at you.”

  He winks. “Pun intended.” Then his expression turns thoughtful for a beat. “I don’t mind that I’m not a Pioneer or a Wolf for life,” he says, naming the Vegas and Seattle mascots as examples. “They’ve all been good trades. I can’t really complain. Especially since Miami was good to me.”

  I glance at his hand. I know he won a ring playing for Miami, but this is the first he’s brought it up.

  “Why don’t you wear your ring? That would be fun to show off. Lord knows I’d be flashing it at everyone if I had one.”

  He shrugs like he hasn’t given the topic much thought. “Jewelry’s not my thing. But nobody can ever take it away from me,” he says, then he lines up and taps the ball straight under a tyrannosaurus rex.

  I whistle. “You are damn good at this,” I say.

  He stops to press a possessive kiss to my lips. “A lot of years in the NFL, sweetheart. I’ve played a lot of golf,” he says.

  “Cocky,” I tease.

  He squeezes my ass. “And you like it.”

  I like just about everything about him. And I need to just enjoy his company and this beautiful LA evening, and let next week be next week. But I don’t want to linger on that thought. Or what liking him might mean after this week of fun and games ends.

  A few holes later, I’m at the tee of another hole, peering down the grassy hill, sizing up whether I can send the purple ball over or around a tiny bridge, when warm breath floats past my ear. “Let me help you, sweetheart,” he rasps out.

  Before I can protest, Gabe lines his big body behind mine, his chest pressing against my back, his pelvis against my ass. Then his hands come down around mine on the club. “Did I ask for help?”

  “No, but I’m doing it anyway,” he says, then brushes his lips along my neck. Tingles slide over my skin.

  “Why is that?” I murmur as pleasure zips over me.

  “I thought that would be obvious,” he says in a dirty rasp. “I want you to break first, Ellie.”

  His words make me ache. But I try hard to stay in the moment and in the game. “Why do you want me to give in, Gabe?”

  He nips on my earlobe. “Because I’ve been staring at you in that skirt for far too long,” he says, then tugs me tighter against him.

  Moaning in my ear.

  Are there other people nearby? Don’t know, don’t care right now. I rub against his erection. “Maybe I want to break you down,” I whisper.

  Gabe slides a hand down the front of my skirt to the hem, playing with the fabric. “Sweetheart, I know you want to be broken. You want to be stretched across my lap, lifting that skirt for me, showing me that sweet ass.”

  So much.

  My breath hitches. But I try to keep playing our game. I try to break him, to goad him into giving in. “And what makes you think that?”

  “Because I’ve been working on a certain fantasy this whole game,” he says in a low, smoky voice that makes me shiver.

  “You have?” I ask.

  He kisses down my neck again, telling me his fantasy.

  And I call it quits on the golf game. “Let’s go now. You win.”

  Let the bedroom games begin.

  14

  CAUGHT IN THE ACT

  Ellie

  I’m curled up on my couch, my hair in pigtails, a white shirt tied right under my breasts, a short plaid skirt showing off most of my legs.

  Gigi’s sitting by my side as I scroll aimlessly on a tablet, paying no heed to what’s on the screen.

  I’m only interested in what—or, more accurately, who’s—coming through the door any second. When I hear the sound of the lock opening, my thighs clench. I don’t look up from the couch. Giddy with anticipation, I stay focused squarely on the screen as the door swings open. Gigi lifts her head and tilts it. But she doesn’t break character either. Nor do I when I finally look up, gasp theatrically, and say, “Oh no! Mr. Clements is home early from the PTA meeting.”

  Footsteps grow louder. Gabe comes into the living room, staring at me.

  Quickly, I slam the tablet case shut. Caught in the act. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,” I say, playing up the breathless surprise.

  He steps closer, eyeing me suspiciously. “What were you doing, Ellie?”

  “Oh nothing, nothing at all,” I say, twirling one of my pigtails innocently.

  He arches a doubtful brow as he strides toward me, pointing to the evidence on the table. “Looks like you were doing something with my tablet.”

  I scramble to answer the accusation. “I had to look up something for my Math 101 homework. But the baby’s sound asleep. Everything is fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about, Mr. Clements. I can just straighten up and go home to my parents.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he growls. Stalks over to me. Stands in front of me with arms crossed, giving me a clear sense of his height and breadth. “I heard moans from the screen. That didn’t sound like your freshman math class at university. Sounds more triple-X rated, Ellie,” he says, so stern that sparks race down my chest.

  “Please don’t be mad at me, Mr. Clements.” I gulp, leaning into the role. “I swear I don’t know what you heard.”

  He reaches a hand down and grabs my chin. “I heard the babysitter watching porn on my tablet,” he bites out.

  My lower lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

  He runs his thumb roughly along my jawline. “For lying or watching my videos?”

  My lips twitch. I drop the contrition. Jut up a shoulder. “I wanted to know what you liked,” I admit in a naughty whisper. “I’ve been thinking about it every time you’ve had me babysit.”

  I glance at his pants and his cock tenting those khakis. He’s as turned on by our games as I am. I can’t wait to play more. To see how far we can go. To try all these things I’ve never done.

  “And what do I like?” Gabe asks, moving to stand between my legs, pushing my knees wider, spreading my thighs open.

  I smile coyly. “You like Daddy-does-the-babysitter porn,” I say sweetly.

  His expression is mean. His eyes full of punishment. “And you aren’t supposed to know. So you know what that means?”

  “You’re going to teach me a lesson?”

  “Damn right I am,” he says, and in a flash, he’s parked on the couch, jerking me across his lap.

  I raise my ass for him. “Teach me a lesson, Mr. Clements,” I coo.

  He pushes up the short skirt all the way to my waist. His breath catches, telling me he wasn’t expecting me to go commando.

  But he stays in the role as he reaches across my ass, grabbing the tablet on the table. Like we planned. Without warning, he thwacks it sharply across the back of my thighs. I twitch. Then draw a tight, excited breath. “But I was so bad. Do you need to spank me again?”

  “You’re such a naughty girl, Ellie,” he hisses. “You need to learn not to look at my porn.”

  This time, he swats my ass. A hot burst of pain rushes along my flesh, radiating into pleasure. “I don’t think I’ve learned it yet, Daddy,” I say.

  Another smack. Another sweet ache between my thighs. Then he sets the tablet down. Runs his palm along one bare cheek, then the other. “You’re not wearing any panties,” he says, stating the obvious.

  I look up at him from my prone position, giving a who me look.

  “Why the fuck is that?” he demands. “And you better tell me the truth.”

  My breath comes out in a staggered gasp. “I was playing with myself before you came in. When I was watching your bookmarked videos,” I confess.

  A filthy rumble works its way up his chest, and he lifts a hand high. Brings it down hard. I yelp and then I gush between my thighs as a gorgeous mix of pleasure and pain bursts under my skin. For a second, maybe more, he breaks character. “Fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” he murmurs. “You’re such a pretty, dirty girl.”

  The praise lights me up. That’s new too—the pleasure of being praised in bed.

  Then he turns me on higher and hotter when he adds, “You’re my dirty girl. Mine, just mine. All mine.”

  Instantly, I’m wetter. Achy between my thighs.

  Then, it is on.

  Smack, strike, tingle.

  Over and over he whacks me with his palm as I wriggle and beg for it.

  Gabe slides a hand between my thighs, groaning ravenously when he feels how slippery I am. “Mmm. You’re ready now. You know what I like. You saw it on the video. Do it,” he commands.

  With my ass bruised and tingling, I scramble off him, get on the floor. Look up with eager eyes. “You want me to suck your cock like a good girl?”

  He slides a hand over my head and tugs hard on one pigtail. “That’s right. Take me deep and gag on my dick,” he says.

  I open wide, waiting patiently for my reward as he undoes the button of his slacks, then the zipper, then pushes down his pants. His boxer briefs go next. I gasp when I see his gorgeous, throbbing cock.

  A drop of arousal pearls the head. “Look what you did to me.” He grunts, his eyes like slits as he runs a hand along his cock then over that tempting drop of liquid.

  I raise my chin, waiting.

  He slides the arousal across my top lip. Then my bottom lip. Then leans closer. “Now, do a good fucking job and I’ll hire you again. Do it just like you saw when you were checking out my porn,” he says.

  I am on fire. Pretty sure he is too. I’ve never had sex like this. This wild, this risqué, this…fun.

  And I’m hungry for more of it. Tonight, tomorrow, and the next day too.

  Right now, though, I want to show him how deeply I crave him.

  As I take him down my throat, swirling my tongue along his length, desire throbs tightly in my core.

  He’s at my mercy now and I take my turn at making him lose control, giving him a deep, enthusiastic blow job with loud, long slurps that seem to excite him more. Every noise I make earns me a groan, then a grunt.

  I’m scorched, my skin sizzling everywhere.

  I’m rocking my hips, fucking air. I slide a hand between my thighs, stroking myself as I go. The deeper I take him, the more he shakes and shudders. His thrusts grow wilder, faster. His moans louder. “Fuck, Ellie, baby,” he says, his voice strangled. “Play with my balls.” He sounds like he’s begging.

  I fondle them, rolling them.

  He shoves his cock deeper.

  I gag, but I don’t want him to stop, and he knows it. I told him in advance to keep going, and I keep sucking voraciously.

  Then, I wet my fingers one more time with my own juices. Right when he’s muttering my name and groaning so loudly I’m sure my neighbors will hear, I slide a damp finger below his balls, pressing it against his ass, then up.

  He sings like a chorus of heavenly orgasm angels are flying inside him. “Oh god, oh fuck. Yes, yes, yes.”

  With a wickedly satisfied grin, I drink him down. He’s salty and musky, and I love it.

  When I drop him from my mouth, he’s panting savagely for a while. Then, he recovers, pats his thighs. “Get up here on my lap and straddle me.”

  In a flurry, I climb onto his thighs, my legs spread. I’m so close already, and I’m dying for release.

  The second he touches me, I’m riding the pleasure of his fingers till I’m shooting to the sky.

  Then we’re kissing like mad, hungry beasts.

  I feel that way with him and it’s…freeing.

  It’s thrilling.

  It’s everything I didn’t know I needed in bed.

  Then, this connection becomes even more when we slow down, coasting into a slow, tender, sensual kiss. Somehow, the dirty games make the gentle moments more poignant, more powerful. His mouth never leaves mine. He cups my cheeks and bestows beautiful, slow-burn kisses all over my lips.

  It feels like he’s claiming me.

  Like every way he touches me—hard and rough, soft and gentle—is a mark. He’s marking me as his.

  That’s a crazy thought. I can’t be his after two nights of uninhibited sex.

  I just can’t.

  But I can enjoy it for tonight.

  When he breaks the kiss, he strokes a hand down my bare arm. “That’ll teach you to look at my porn.”

  I smile, feeling woozy and wonderful. “It’ll teach me to do it again and again.”

  Gabe wraps his hands through my messy pigtails and kisses me softly one more time. “Good. I want it again and again. Want you again.”

  And I want to make the most of the few nights we have. “Then you should have me all night long,” I say, snuggling up against him. I sigh contentedly. “I need to get my fill of you this week.”

  He smiles against my hair, kisses me. “I’ll fill you up the next few nights, sweetheart.”

  I laugh, then he holds me tighter. It feels good to cozy up with him like this. I’ll miss it when it’s gone.

  But I don’t tell him that. Because, really, I won’t have time to miss him.

  Besides, I’m enjoying this week with him like I would a rich, decadent dessert I can have only rarely—I’m devouring every bite.

  Next week is back to salad and quinoa, and hey, I need that kind of fuel for work.

  It’s a good thing we laid out the rules in advance. That way I won’t even be tempted to take another bite. A brand-new romance wouldn’t survive our demanding lives anyway.

  Yes, I like dating with boundaries very much.

  THURSDAY

  A Day for Telephone Tag

  15

  THE MORNING AFTER

  Gabe

  In the morning, I walk up to a coffee stand on Abbot Kinney Boulevard, get in line, and order a black coffee for me and a caramel iced latte for Ellie.

  “Can I get you anything else?” the helpful barista asks with a tilt of her freckled face.

  I look down at Gigi, who’s sitting perfectly by my feet. “A water for you, girl?”

  Gigi pants. I take that as a yes. “One little paper cup of water for the pup, please?”

  The barista flashes a warm smile. “Coming right up.”

  “I’m sooooo thirsty. Can I have one too?”

  I groan, recognizing my friend Axel’s voice despite the baby talk.

  Busted.

  With a you caught me sigh, I turn around and meet my buddy’s dark, laughing gaze. “What are you doing here?”

  Axel waggles his phone. “Catching that on video,” he says, with a shit-eating grin. “This is the best.”

  I roll my eyes. “Seriously. Are you following me?”

  He scoffs. “You’re not that interesting.” Then he tips his forehead across the street to another coffee shop, Edge & Plow. Because of course there’s another coffee shop across the street. “Early bird and all. I got up at five AM to write. I had an idea. So I ran with it.”

  “Wait, let me guess. The hero breaks his dick during sex?”

  “Wash your mouth out with soap,” he says, chiding me.

  “Come on. You’re the king of writing we fucked till we broke our arms sex scenes.”

  “But nobody ever suffers from a broken dick in my books. What do you think I am, the world’s meanest man?”

  “Possibly,” I say. Then I nod to his phone. “What are you going to do with that?”

  His smile is evil. “No idea but this is gold. The big, bad wolf sweet-talking the little dog,” he says, then tucks the phone in his jeans pocket and adjusts the strap on his messenger bag. “Also when did you get a dog? Were you going to keep it a secret? She’s fucking adorable.”

  Like a proud papa, I scoop up the little blond creature, scratching Gigi’s chin. She lifts it higher as I pet her. “She’s Ellie’s dog,” I explain. “Isn’t she cute?”

  “Here are your drinks, Gabe,” the barista says, then her smile widens, like she can’t hold it in. “Go Mercenaries! I’ve got my lucky hacky sack too!”

  With a smile, I rap my knuckles on the counter, then stuff an extra bill in the tip jar. “Keep kicking it! And thanks for the Mercenary love,” I say as I set Gigi back down, then take all three drinks carefully. Once I turn the corner, I set the water cup for Gigi onto the sidewalk.

  “Spill,” Axel demands. “Who’s Ellie?”

  I’m not one to kiss and tell, so as Gigi laps up her drink, I answer him simply. “I grew up on the same street as Ellie. I ran into her again. There you go,” I say but that barely covers who Ellie is.