“You have grass in your hair.” Charlie brushed it away. His body shifted against hers, and she felt how much he wanted her, the fierce jut of his erection pressing against her thigh. She’d been craving this. It was practically all she could think about when she woke sweaty and wanting in the dead of night.

  “I don’t know…” she murmured as Charlie trailed his lips up to hers. He gave the nipple he’d been teasing a light twist. A jolt of half pain, half pleasure sent her toes curling. She opened her mouth to protest or to moan or to invent a new noise to let him know how conflicted she was, but Charlie’s mouth claimed her own in a passionate kiss.

  And just like that, she was done for. All the fight seeped out of her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down further. If she was going to sink beneath the overwhelming weight of her desire, then she was going to drag Charlie down with her.

  “That’s more like it.” Charlie growled his approval as he pawed at her clothes. He pushed her shirt and bra up over her breasts, and cupped a newly exposed peak, rubbing his palm over her nipple until she wanted to cry for release. The fingers of his other hand undid the clasp on her jeans and pushed them down her hips.

  “Am I the first girl you’ve found time to indulge in your office?” Dylan gasped as his fingers probed below.

  “I never even considered trying something like this,” Charlie admitted as he trailed kisses down her clavicle. “This is pretty wild even for me.”

  “Too wild for Charlie Wild. Is that possible?”

  “Gotta live up to the name somehow,” he said as his fingers thrust inside her. Dylan clutched the back of his hair and moaned. She had been slick before, but feeling Charlie knuckle-deep made her even wetter. By the time he withdrew, his fingers were coated with her juices. He licked them clean appreciatively, and Dylan thought she might lose it. Already she had ceased to care how exposed they both were. Somehow, pinned beneath Charlie, with his broad shoulders hovering over her protectively, she felt invincible. Was this how he felt every time he hit the field in front of an adoring crowd? All she needed was his glacial-blue eyes fixed on her with rapt, unflinching attention to feel the rush.

  But if Dylan felt powerful beneath him in that moment, Charlie seemed determined to overwhelm her completely. He pushed her jeans the rest of the way off, with Dylan squirming and bucking her hips to aid him. She could sense his urgency and felt it throbbing against her thigh. Not only that, but she reciprocated it wholeheartedly—she needed Charlie inside her, right now, or she would die from lack of satisfaction.

  She grabbed the front of his shorts and jerked them down, but the tent he pitched was so massive the fabric caught halfway. She had to use both hands to navigate his waistband over and down. His boxers slid down along with his shorts, and his erection sprang free, standing proud and ready, the head pink and slick. She took it into her hands and smoothed her palms down its length in measured strokes. When she paused to squeeze, Charlie groaned explosively. God, she loved the feel of him in her hands, and the knowledge that she could make the strongest man she had ever encountered weaken for her with the slightest touch.

  Charlie crept his fingers back down her belly until he found her clitoris, tracing languid circles around it. Dylan quivered and shook at the sensation. She tightened her thighs against her own muscle spasms, still fighting for some appearance of control, but she was fast coming undone. Charlie was in charge now, her pleasure in his hands.

  Removing his hand from her breast, he fumbled in his pocket and unearthed a foil packet that he quickly tore with his teeth. Once sheathed, he positioned his erection at her opening. Dylan hitched her right leg over his hip, clenching her thigh over the bunching muscles. Charlie plunged inside her in one long, smooth stroke, and Dylan’s world exploded in showers of fireworks.

  “Mmm,” she hummed, the moan of appreciation coming from deep in her throat as Charlie thrust inside her. She couldn’t hold in the blissful sigh that followed or prevent her head from falling back on the fresh turf beneath her. The aroma of the grass broke over her, enveloping her senses. As Charlie craned himself closer, she could smell his natural musk warring with his spearmint bodywash. No smell on earth could be more masculine or more apt to drive her out of her mind, reducing her to a bundle of nerves and raw need.

  Her fingers wound themselves in his jersey, making knots to give herself something to hold onto. Even though he had her solidly pinned beneath him, her back pushing into the ground, she felt like she might fall upward into the big, blue sky. The waves of ecstasy that sparked and shivered through her threatened to send the world careening off its axis. Goosebumps erupted all along her arms and the backs of her thighs. She couldn’t tell up from down; she was out of control, and they had barely gotten started.

  Charlie dropped down to his forearm and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. Dylan sought his lips with her own, but before she could come anywhere close to stealing a kiss, Charlie was bucking up into her, thrust after thrust.

  Dylan keened wordlessly as she clung on for the ride. She knew her cries would reverberate throughout the empty stadium, but she couldn’t keep silent in the face of his might. She pressed her lips together as tight as they would go, but his next thrust obliterated all thoughts of restraint. She had to let him know what she needed.

  “Fuck me, Charlie,” she growled low in her throat. Her command broke his rhythm, and for a moment, he stalled, but before she could think to try again, he’d brought one hand up to untangle her fingers from his jersey. He reached back behind him to yank the shirt over his head one-handed and toss it away. A thin sheen of sweat covered his neck and torso. He chuckled low in his throat as he pinned her wrists above her head.

  “Didn’t take you long to change your tune,” he said. “Guess you just had to be reminded of what you were missing.” He punctuated his good-natured taunting with a forceful thrust, rolling her back so that her hips arched off the ground. Dylan hiked her legs close around his waist and hissed in pleasure. “What a beautiful tune it is,” Charlie added as he lowered his lips to her neck.

  “You’re seriously…going to tease me…right now?” Dylan demanded between pants. Charlie’s hips drove into her in steady, rhythmic thrusts. He suddenly changed tack, grinding his pelvis down into her. The friction against her clit was like high-voltage sparks and rushing waterfalls. Galaxies exploded behind her eyes. She moaned and gasped and strained against the hands pinning her wrists. Charlie lowered himself until his chest pressed flush against hers. He reverse-rolled his hips again, and Dylan arched beneath him. Any more of this and she was sure to leave a doctor-sized imprint on the fifty-yard line for some unsuspecting groundskeeper to discover.

  “God, I love making you sweat.” Charlie licked along the curve of her neck, tongue catching beneath her chin. “Looks like you love it, too. You want to come for me?”

  Of all the insufferable, cocky, domineering questions to ask at a moment like—

  A shiver coursed through Dylan suddenly, the foreshock of orgasm. No way. She refused to come on command! She wasn’t his pet, or his— Oh, God! Dylan tried to hold herself perfectly still. Charlie grinned roguishly. His expression said it all: I don’t think so. He wasn’t going to let her hold back on him now. Dylan knew she was in deep trouble. God, it was so deep…and getting deeper with each…

  She heard herself curse, a desperate sound. Charlie’s hands released her wrists.

  “Hold onto me,” he instructed.

  As if there were anything else for her to do! Charlie tucked his arm between her and the grass, raising her body to meet him as he plunged into her. He couldn’t have known it would push her over the edge, but it did. All the mounting pressure that had been collecting in her belly spilled over, and the orgasm swept through her like waves bursting past a dam. Dylan arched into his embrace with a cry that would have brought the stadium down around them had he not been there to capture her mouth in his. He swallowed her pleasure, and she tasted the sweet sweep of his tongue as it scoured past her teeth. Another throb rocked through her, and Charlie’s thrusts quickened; she hadn’t even come to full completion before she felt him coming.

  Charlie withdrew slowly with a groan, his spent cock teasing her oversensitive folds. Another shiver raced through her, and she longed to take him inside her again. She might have even tried it, if she hadn’t been exhausted. He dropped his head to her chest, and his entire body weight settled on top of her. A surprised laugh burst from her throat—along with any spare breath she could manage—and Charlie redistributed his weight with a chuckle and settled in against her.

  “I love you, Charlie Wild,” she muttered as her fingers caressed his sweat-tangled hair.

  “Thought I’d be the one to say it first.” His voice was muffled by her breasts. When Dylan drew her chin back a little to consider him, Charlie was smiling. He wasn’t giving her his usual half-cocked grin. Hell, his eyes weren’t even droopy with post-sex exhaustion. His expression was alert, warm, and open. She wondered if he could hear the moment her heart stuttered to a stop. She knew she hadn’t made a mistake in choosing this moment to bare her soul—but she suddenly felt in need of a perspective that wasn’t the chiseled face gazing at her. It was too easy to look at Charlie and want to forget all rules and responsibility.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” she asserted.

  “Doesn’t it?” His eyes were fixed on her lips. Dylan felt dizzy with the weight of her feelings for him. The last thing she wanted was to ruin the moment, but she was still his doctor. That much was true. She still had obligations to Charlie Wild—including delivering news he wouldn’t want to hear.

  “Not in the way you might expect.” Dylan sat up, pulled her shirt down, and adjusted her hair. Once she felt composed enough to continue, she crossed her legs. She took Charlie’s hand in hers and tilted her head to meet his eye. “I’m in love with you—”

  “I love you, too.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to neglect my responsibilities as your doctor. I’m not going to shy away from doing my job just because it would make you happy and make things easier between us.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Charlie said firmly. “You have nothing to worry about, Dylan. I know you’re good at your job. I’ll do what you tell me to, even if it’s not easy.” His mouth slid sideways, his dimple appeared, and Dylan hated the way her heart clenched at the sight. She wanted to back down. She wanted to savor the moment, but she had to see this conversation through to its conclusion. It was too important to drop for the sake of the smile she loved more than anything.

  “No. I’m not talking about having a…relationship with you and still being your doctor. I’d get you a referral, if…if you wanted that.”

  “Do you?”

  “I do,” Dylan said. “But I think this conversation needs to come first, while I’m still your doctor. You’ve come to mean more to me than I ever expected, and that means I have more reasons than ever to want to see you well. To see you live a good life, beyond just football. So, keep that in mind when I tell you your knee shouldn’t be played on this season. You need to concentrate full-time on your recovery. I’m not going to clear you. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  There. She’d said it. Dylan gazed at him, holding her breath despite herself. She watched his charming, lovestruck expression slowly fade as her verdict hit home. She wanted nothing more than to immediately take it back, but she resisted the urge. She hated herself for it, but she’d hate herself worse if she let him get hurt.

  “That’s not possible.” Charlie’s hand slid from hers, and he rose suddenly. He teetered slightly on his knee, breaking Dylan’s heart and confirming her resolve in a single unsteady moment. His gaze hardened, and he looked away. “I…need to think about this.”

  “About this? Wait—about which part?” Dylan snatched her pants up, struggled to her feet, and started after him as Charlie made for the locker room.

  “All of it.”

  Dylan frowned. “I understand you have to think about us, and you should. Hell, I still have to think more about it. But Charlie, the knee is nonnegotiable. I’m your doctor,” she concluded.

  Charlie turned abruptly, surprising her, and Dylan knocked into his chest. Her hands came up, and he caught her. That strong, angular face she had come to love was now twisted and miserable. Because of her. God, how she wished she could take it all back.

  “You’re more than that now,” Charlie said gravely. He reached up to smooth her hair away from her forehead. Then he released her, gathered his clothes, and turned to go. His bent head and bowed shoulders disappeared from view as he ducked into the shadows of the stadium.

  Dylan didn’t follow.

  10

  CHARLIE

  Smitty did not appear to relish pushing the pictures across the table to Charlie. He’d marched into the meeting with a new face, a grim face. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good.

  Charlie rocked forward in his chair, eyeing the expressions of his management team. No one was smiling. A few were outright scowling. When Charlie flicked his eyes down, he understood why.

  “Does Dylan know about this?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Before he could think of the damage to his own reputation. As far as he was concerned, that’s what his team was there for—to control whatever havoc a guy like him could wreak and help him come out unscathed. There may have been people, a lot of people, who thought Charlie Wild was just another self-centered jock who had made it to the big time, but here, in this moment, his own well-being was the furthest thing from his mind.

  He lifted the first photograph, studying it closely, even though deep scrutiny wasn’t really necessary. He had lived that moment, after all, on the fifty-yard line with Dylan. He had no reason to play voyeur to his own memory. In the picture, the two of them were still—at least partially— clothed, meaning it had been taken in the moments leading up to their epic consummation. Thank God for small graces.

  “Dr. Rose has been informed, yes.” Smitty shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was wearing his sunglasses, but Charlie had a feeling it was more in an effort to conceal what he was really thinking than to ward off the harsh light of the conference room.

  “And the hospital?”

  “If you’re asking after her job, Charlie, I can confirm that although general faith in Dr. Rose has been shaken, she’s in no danger of losing her position at the moment.”

  “And they aren’t going to strong-arm her into a resignation?”

  “Charlie!” Another suit broke through their exchange in exasperation. “Do you understand what’s happened? You just got caught fucking your doctor in the end zone—”

  “Fifty-yard line.”

  “And these are the questions you decide to ask us? There’s only so much interference we can run here on your behalf! The images of you and Dr. Rose have gone viral, and it doesn’t look good.”

  “You don’t think the two of us look good together?”

  “That’s not the point,” Smitty interrupted impatiently. “You were rehabbing more than just your knee down in Lockhart Bend, Charlie. You were rehabbing your image. We had planned for you to make your return to the Teamsters as a more mature, levelheaded sports icon. Someone the kids could start to really idolize and look up to without their parents having to shield their eyes every time your name made the headlines. With this latest stunt, that’s out the window.”

  Charlie leaned back in his chair again and crossed his arms behind his head. “Maybe I’m getting fucking tired of every date I go on turning into a scandal. I fell in love with my doctor. Why don’t you take that story and run with it?”

  Charlie’s idea was met with a chorus of disbelieving laughter. Something in his chest clenched, and he felt his pulse skyrocket as he realized they thought he was making a joke. Either that, or they thought him so completely incapable of making a commitment outside of football that he didn’t know what he was talking about. It was condescending as hell, and he’d had enough.

  Charlie rose, flinging the pictures back across the table, so they rained down around Smitty’s shoulders. “Get it out there,” he said. “What am I paying you guys for? Dr. Rose and I are in a committed relationship. That ought to sit better with people. We’ll have our taboo cake and eat it, too.”

  “Have you actually spoken to her about this?” Smitty called after him. “Those vultures in the press are going to try and reach her for comment, if they haven’t already. I’m not going to risk putting a story out that’s going to be immediately debunked by the other half of the…party…in question.”

  Charlie fell silent. In all honesty, he had been avoiding contact with Dylan since their bittersweet departure that day at the stadium. He didn’t want her to know what he had planned behind her back. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, the adage went. Only now, there was going to be a hell of a lot to forgive.

  He wasn’t sure they were going to make it through what he’d done, and now, with those pictures, their chances were even slimmer. As Charlie made his way out of the conference room and down the stadium hallway to the showers, he pulled his phone out. He had missed multiple calls from Dylan, and a whole lot from Trevor. Even Trent had been texting—all morning, it seemed. Guilt curdled in his belly, but he knew he couldn’t seize upon the easy remedy. Not now, at least. He bypassed the missed calls and dialed the team doctor.

  “Roberts?” he said as soon as he heard the other line pick up. “It’s Wild. I assume you’ve seen it by now in the news. I can’t have my doctor linked to me right now, so I’m going to need you to clear me to play. I don’t care what you have to do. My knee is holding up fine.”

  Roberts huffed faintly. “I can’t just take your word for that,” he said. “I’m going to need to examine you, see your physio’s notes, and—”

  “Okay. When?”

  Charlie paced, listening to Roberts, but not taking in much. This would work—it had to. He knew how sideline maneuvers like this played out. Roberts was there to make sure the Teamsters played. If his knee could carry him, surely—