She’s vibrant, outgoing, and a sex kitten.

  She’s kind, thoughtful, and caring.

  She’s easy to spend time with. She’s dirty and flirty and honest.

  My heart thumps harder just thinking of my woman.

  Axel clears his throat, then points to the dog, who’s finished her water. “You’re walking her dog, man,” he says as I bend to pick up the paper cup and crush it. I stuff it in my back pocket so I can toss it in the recycling at Ellie’s house. “Ellie hardly seems like someone you ‘just ran into,’” he says, sketching air quotes.

  The dude is perceptive. But I’m not ready to let on to Axel that he’s right. Not sure why though.

  “The dog had to piss. Of course I took her with me,” I say, trying to keep my answer simple.

  Trying, but failing. I like her damn dog too.

  That’s fucking confusing.

  “Dude, just admit you like her,” Axel says as I walk toward Ellie’s house.

  “The dog is great,” I say.

  “I meant the woman. It sounds like someone has it bad,” he mocks.

  I grumble, “Goodbye, Axel.” I’m just not ready to deal with the someone has it bad level of feels.

  Or any level.

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Axel says. “Though actually, you will be getting rid of me soon. I’m going to Europe in a couple weeks to do some more research for my next thriller.”

  “I’d say I’ll miss you but…”

  “Fuck you. You’ll miss me. I’ll miss you, and I’m not afraid to say it.”

  “Fine. I’ll miss you the tiniest little bit,” I say.

  We shoot the breeze as we walk the rest of the way to Ellie’s house, and I’m grateful he doesn't press more. I don’t know what I’d say, or if I could even articulate why I feel like she’s my woman.

  When she can’t be.

  She just fucking can’t.

  When I reach her home, I say goodbye to my friend. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Have fun with the…dog,” Axel says with a wink.

  Flipping him the bird, I head inside, cups in hand. Ellie’s pacing the kitchen, her phone pressed to her ear. Brightly, she waves at me. Evidently, she’s excited to see me and the dog.

  My pulse skitters. I smile back at her as I unhook Gigi’s leash from her harness, careful not to spill the drinks.

  The dog scampers over to Ellie, whimpering happily as she dances on her back legs like it’s been thirty years, and not thirty minutes since she’s seen her person.

  It’s seriously the cutest thing. Especially when Ellie bends down to pet her. My woman’s wearing yoga pants and a sports bra, and I like that outfit a lot.

  So much it’s scrambling my brain.

  “Yes, Mom,” she says into the phone, then pauses. “No, they haven’t called again yet.”

  Another pause.

  “I still don’t know what to say if they want to interview me,” she says with a sigh as I head into the kitchen and put the drinks on the counter, curious who she’s talking about.

  “Yes. I’ll be there this weekend. With Gabe,” she adds with a hint of a smile in her voice.

  Ah, I like the sound of that. There’s a shriek on the other end of the line.

  “Yes, Mom. That Gabe.”

  I straighten my shoulders, pride surging through me. Yeah, I’m that Gabe. I’m that guy who’s taking her to the party this weekend. No one else is taking her.

  “Are we dating?” She arches a brow at me in question.

  I growl, then give the only answer. I nod a clear and firm yes.

  “We’ll be on a date at your party,” she says into the phone. “Love you too, Mom.” Then she hangs up.

  She doesn’t say anything more to me about the dating comment. I’m not sure why, but I’m relieved. If she did, I might be tempted to tell her the truth—this sure as hell feels like real dating.

  But real dating doesn’t have an expiration date.

  We do. We agreed to about a week. One week, one party, then we’re done. Doesn’t matter if I like her more and more each time we hang out.

  I have training camp out of town starting in a few more days, and my final football season to focus on. I need to stay healthy and injury-free. That means no distractions.

  She has her new gig writing and producing her show.

  Case closed.

  I wipe away thoughts of more, and next week, and real dates.

  Ellie gestures to Gigi, who’s trotting into the living room now. “You walked my dog.” She says it like I’ve fought off lions.

  Maybe that’s what dog care is to her. The ultimate sign of devotion.

  “And she really is a good girl,” I say. I want to ask what she and her mom were talking about, but I don’t know if we’re at a “pry in your personal business” place.

  But Ellie saves me from wondering, and shares, “My mom wanted to know if I’m going to do the interview.” At my questioning look, she explains, “For the show Fabio’s List.” I’m still drawing a blank, but she goes on with the story of how she dated a guy who conned women and now LGO is doing a documentary about him.

  Anger flares in my chest, hot and fast. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Oh, no. Not like that. Not physically.”

  “Good. But I meant in any way. Did he hurt you in any way?” I bite out. “Because I will fucking destroy him if he did.”

  Adamantly, she shakes her head. “No. He didn’t hurt me emotionally too much either. And I got out early. I kind of spotted the signs that he was a con artist,” she says, a touch of shame in her voice. “But I hate that he conned a bunch of other women.” With a sigh, she lifts her caramel latte, and takes a sip. “So it just feels kind of raw. I think that’s why I haven’t said yes to the interview yet. I feel kind of foolish still.”

  Compelled to comfort her, I close the distance between us, move behind her, and press a kiss to her neck. I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her close. She sighs contentedly against me.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. Maybe dating some unsavory guys in the past helped you to see the signs with him. You figured out what to look for,” I say, trying my damnedest to shore her up.

  “Yeah, maybe. It’s just too bad the other women didn’t see that.”

  I nod resolutely. “It is. I hate men who take advantage of women. Who lie and cheat and steal. There’s a special place in hell for them.”

  After she puts down the latte, she turns her face to me, a smile tipping her lips. My heart speeds up. Damn, her smile is magic, and she’s casting a spell on me. “Thank you for the latte, Gabe. And for the dog walk. And just for saying that. I appreciate it.”

  I run a hand gently down her cheek. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you ever.” Then I brush my lips to hers. The kiss is soft and tender, and I like it far too much. So I linger in it, indulging in the taste of her caramel lips.

  Axel’s words echo in my head, taunting me. Someone has it bad.

  But I bat them away. Of course I like her. Hell, I’ve liked her since that night under the mistletoe—the first night I could let myself like her.

  That doesn’t mean I can let anything happen beyond this week. A deal’s a deal.

  16

  GOOD BEHAVIOR

  A few hours later…

  Gabe: That didn’t take long.

  Ellie: What? You returned home a few minutes ago, and you’ve already taken matters into your own hands?

  Ellie: And I thought what I did to you this morning in the shower was enough…as well as on the kitchen floor after I finished the latte. Also under the covers in the middle of the night.

  Ellie: But you do have a big appetite so…

  Gabe: Damn, woman. You type too fast. And for the record, keep doing all of those things. I want them all. I need them all. But know this—if I jack off after I see you, it’s because I am insatiable for you. And I am picturing the next thing we’ll do. Like when I see you tonight.

  Ellie: Acceptable answer.

  Gabe: As I was trying to say, what didn’t take long is that my mom already called. Guess she heard from your mom.

  Ellie: Telephone works fast in our little hometown! Tongues are clearly wagging about our upcoming appearance this weekend.

  Gabe: The book club ladies are buzzing about us. My mom called as I was heading to the gym. Wanted to talk all about you. I bet my dad will call any second too, since Mom tells him everything and vice versa.

  Ellie: So what did your mom say? Did she give you a hard time? I hope not! *bites nails*

  Gabe: No. Why would you say that?

  Ellie: I guess maybe because I was the girl you babysat?

  Gabe: And I was a perfect gentleman those nights. For the record, I never once thought of you naked until that eggnog party when you were in college, and you officially became the sexiest person I’d ever seen in my life.

  Ellie: Wow. I’m flattered.

  Gabe: It’s the truth.

  Ellie: For the record, you gave me my first orgasm when I was fifteen.

  Gabe: WHAT???

  Ellie: I had a crazy crush on you when I was a teenager.

  Gabe: Whoa.

  Ellie: Does that freak you out?

  Gabe: Should it?

  Ellie: I hope not. I truly hope not.

  Gabe: Then it doesn’t freak me out. Because you’re all woman now, and I’m with the woman. Not the girl.

  Ellie: *Breathes again* I was worried my teenage fantasies would scare you.

  Gabe: We all have fantasies, sweetheart. It’s what, when, and with whom we explore them that matters.

  Ellie: I’m enjoying our explorations. I have fantasies about other scenarios. Student and teacher, strangers at a bar, you name it.

  Gabe: Both sound fun, especially strangers at a bar. I’d say something like Is this seat taken?

  Ellie: I’d say now it is. Bet we’d be great strangers. Then we’d get a cup of coffee in the morning, and I’d feel like we had a delicious secret.

  Gabe: When I take you out in public, I get a thrill that I’m the only one who knows your private side.

  Ellie: Me too.

  Gabe: Can’t wait to explore more tonight, my sweet, dirty girl.

  Ellie: I’ll be on my best behavior when I see you later.

  Gabe: I won’t.

  17

  YOU HAVE THE RIGHT

  Gabe

  Hands curled tightly around the wheel of my Tesla, I wait on the side of the road, on alert.

  The faint glow from a streetlamp in the distance lights the curvy stretch of Mulholland Drive up here in the hills.

  I have to tamp down this buzz of anticipation. Need to stay in the moment. Can’t let the thrill of the fantasy get the better of me before she even arrives.

  I check my phone. Her Google Map alert says she’s almost here.

  The second I hear the soft purr of an electric convertible winding around the bend, I start the engine.

  It is on.

  A few seconds later, she flies past me.

  I jerk my car onto the road, gun the gas, and flash my headlights. Bright and fast in her rearview mirror.

  She pulls into a turnout a hundred or so feet away.

  I pull in behind her and cut the engine. My pulse is already spiking. I’ve wanted this for so damn long.

  I’ve played in the goddamn Super Bowl, yet I’m somehow even more excited for this fantasy. I don’t even know why. I just want this. So damn much.

  I cut the engine and stride over to her, taking my sweet-ass time like a cop would do even though I want to touch her so damn badly.

  When I reach the driver’s side window, I tap on it.

  She rolls it down, flashing an innocent but curious grin. “Was I speeding, officer?”

  “You know you were,” I tell her. “You got someplace to be?”

  Her pretty pink lips form a taunting O. “I have to get to this hot guy’s house. You understand, right?”

  I grunt, then shake my head. “No,” I say sternly. “You better not be speeding to get to some other man.” I bend to lean on the window.

  “But officer, he makes me sooo wet,” she says, then subtly, ever so subtly, spreads her thighs.

  A wild rumble fills my chest. She’s going to test all my control.

  “Get out,” I command.

  She bats her lashes. “But don’t you want to see my license and registration? Or are you forgetting how to do your job?”

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job. For that, you need to spread your legs,” I order.

  “Ooh, you’re a bad cop,” she says, nibbling on the corner of her lips.

  “And you’re a bratty girl,” I say, then grab the handle and yank open the door. “Out. Now.”

  With a defiant stare, she rises, stands in front of me, and crosses her arms, pushing up those glorious tits.

  Dear god.

  She’s wearing the world’s shortest skirt, along with the universe’s sexiest heels.

  “My guy won’t like that you called me bratty,” she taunts.

  “You broke the speed limit, miss.” I step closer, drag my nose along her neck, inhaling her cherry blossom scent. It drives me wild. “Go around to the other side of the vehicle,” I tell her.

  “What if I don’t want to? Will you put these on me?” She darts out with nimble fingers and grabs a pair of cuffs from my back pocket.

  New ones. I bought them today. For her. And I fucking tremble as I picture putting them on her and then torturing her deliciously with my hands.

  She dangles the cuffs in front of me, the temptress.

  I snatch them from her. “Move. Now.”

  “If you say so,” she says, then struts around the back of the car, shaking that perfect ass.

  Desire claws at me. But we’re not even close to ending the scene yet. I fight off the cloud of lust, stalk around the back of the car, and come right up to her, my chest against hers, all of Los Angeles below us, the city lights twinkling in the distance.

  But here on the side of the road, it’s quiet enough. Even though anyone could come by. What a rush. “Turn around, miss. Spread your legs.”

  She whirls, reaches for the hem of her skirt, lifts it.

  My skin sizzles. She’s wearing white lace panties that barely cover her luscious cheeks.

  I want to bite that sweet ass.

  But she’s so damn defiant. “I said…spread them,” I grit out.

  She flashes her vixen gaze my way. “Make me, officer.”

  Need swamps me. I step closer, between her legs, then kick her right foot. Then her left.

  She gasps but doesn’t stumble as she widens her stance. My chest heaves with want. And my mind floods with understanding. I know why I want this fantasy.

  I crave trust. Always have. It’s not only the foundation of my job—it’s the cornerstone of any relationship. That’s what I’ve seen from the people around me. The way they trust and depend on each other.

  But now, I’m seeing trust in another light. A smoky, sexy light.

  An after-dark one, with a woman who trusts me to test her, to push her, to take care of her.

  Ellie trusts me so beautifully, which turns me on more than her beautiful body. Her trust in me thrills me to my bones.

  And I intend to treat it like the gift it is. “You’re under arrest,” I command.

  “Good,” she taunts.

  I grab her wrists and yank them together. Hold them tightly in my grip. With my other hand, I snap on the cuffs. God, she looks stunning, at my mercy like this. Offering me her body. Her voice. And her beautiful, dirty mind. To do with what I will.

  My skin heats with excitement.

  “So this guy you were dying to see,” I say sternly as I lock the cuffs.

  “Yes, officer?”

  “You needed to drive that fast to see him?”

  “He’s sexy and growly and ridiculously possessive,” she says in a sensual purr.

  I jerk on the cuffs. “Does he give it to you good?”

  She trembles. “He fucks me till I scream,” she whispers.

  I growl, then slide my hands over the soft, tempting flesh of her ass, squeezing both cheeks. “Is that any way to talk to an officer of the law?”

  “Maybe you should take me in for the night. Lock me up.”

  That’s it. I’m about to snap with lust. I press my body to hers, my hard-on grinding against her ass. “You have the right to remain aroused,” I whisper hotly into her ear.

  She arches against me.

  “Anything you say can and will be used against you by me as I get you off,” I say.

  “Play with my pussy, officer,” she says, going with our roles so perfectly. “Use your hand and make me come.”

  I slide a palm between her thighs, gliding my fingers across the soaked panel of her panties.

  She rocks against me, then pants, “Tease my clit, officer.”

  She rocks and thrusts, and I glide my finger under the slippery lace and across her hot center. When I reach her clit, she drops her head back and groans.

  Too loud.

  Roughly, like she wants it, I clamp a hand over her mouth. She gasps. Arches. Seeks more of my hand. “This’ll teach you to obey the law,” I say as I stroke her sweet clit.