I think about the way Maddox looks into my eyes like he can see all of me.

  My fingers squeeze around my breast.

  I think about his arms wrapped around my waist.

  My other hand slides across my belly toward the top of my sleep pants.

  I think about the hardness pressing into my stomach when he lowered me.

  My fingers move into my panties.

  I think about what it might be like to be in bed with Maddox Lovelace.

  TWENTY-TWO

  MADDOX

  After double-checking that my door handle is locked, I flip off the lights and take the few strides across my tiny room to my bed.

  The frame creaks as I drop onto the mattress.

  My blankets are still flung back from this morning, but instead of pulling them over me, I kick them out of the way.

  I’ve learned to sleep through anything, so I don’t mind the music vibrating through the house.

  But I’m not going to sleep.

  Not yet.

  I grip my hardening dick through my boxers.

  And picture Hannah.

  Picture what she must have looked like standing in the bleachers.

  Imagine the way she’d have thrown her arms around my neck if I’d been able to find her after the game. Remember the way her perfect, soft body felt against mine.

  Shoving my waistband down, I wrap my fingers around my length.

  And I think about how well she’d take me.

  I think about it in detail.

  The sounds she’d make.

  The way she’d dig those fingernails into my shoulders.

  How she’d bounce with each thrust. How I wouldn’t have to worry about hurting her. How I could be myself with her.

  I close my eyes, and I think about Hannah Utley.

  TWENTY-THREE

  HANNAH – FRIDAY

  “Do you work this weekend?” Sissy startles me by popping her head through the open doorway.

  I glance at the clock on the wall of the sorting room. “Yeah, tomorrow. But not until the afternoon.”

  “Good news.” Her look of relief is almost comical, like it’s her that’ll be working on a Saturday and not me. “Well, I’m out of here. I’m heading home for my nephew’s birthday this weekend, and the boss lady said I could peace out a few minutes early.”

  “Have fun. Eat some extra cake for me.”

  “Will do!” She laughs as she disappears.

  I drum my fingers on the table, willing time to tick faster.

  I got all the books put away already, so I’ve been sitting here doing my homework.

  And by doing my homework, I really mean that I’ve been sitting here thinking about Maddox. Thinking about the game. Thinking about the way he looked in those tight football pants. Thinking about how many times he collided with other giant men on the field last night.

  No wonder he didn’t budge when I practically broke my nose on his chest.

  I know I need to work on feeling good about my body.

  It’s a good body. It does what I need it to do. It’s healthy. And I know I should appreciate it more. But I’ve always hated feeling so… big. So bulky and in the way.

  But I don’t feel that way around Maddox.

  And maybe spending time around a giant man is a way to avoid my issues, but I don’t care. I like feeling small in comparison.

  My eyes lift back to the clock.

  Five minutes to six is close enough to six.

  The library itself will be open for another couple of hours, but only the front desk employees work until close.

  Standing, I put my things away and straighten the room. Even though it’s not messy, and I’ll be the one who’s in this room next since they don’t need someone to reshelve books on a Saturday morning. But I still make sure everything is in order.

  After a final check, I flick the light off and close the door behind me. Hiking my backpack up, I make my way through the back hallways.

  I’m done with classes for the week. I’m caught up on homework and free from responsibilities until I work again tomorrow afternoon. So why do I feel so… sad?

  I squeeze my fingers around my backpack straps.

  It’s dumb to act like I don’t know what my mood is about.

  My sulky mood is the result of not seeing Maddox today.

  And the fact that I probably won’t see him tomorrow or Sunday.

  And worse than all that, I’m fairly confident that by Monday, our little back and forth will be over.

  My shoes scuff against the industrial carpet, and I look down at my outfit.

  Black ballet flats. Dark wash jeans. And a black shirt with flowy half sleeves and a V-neck that’s a little low for school but would be nice for a date.

  I shake my head at myself.

  I dressed for Maddox.

  And I feel like a fool.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  MADDOX

  Finally, Hannah steps out from the employee’s-only area behind the main desk.

  When I first got here, I spotted the back of her, the ends of her wavy locks brushing the center of her spine, just as she was walking off the main floor.

  I didn’t call out for her, figuring she’d be refilling her book cart and coming back out, but she didn’t. And that was over an hour ago.

  Closing my book, I push out of the armchair and move to cut her off.

  My mouth opens to say her name, but then my throat goes dry.

  Fuck me, I knew she had nice tits. But there’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

  Like she knows what I’m thinking, Hannah looks down at herself. But then I’m certain she doesn’t know what I’m thinking, or how much I’m enjoying the view, because she shakes her head.

  The only reason I’d shake my head over her cleavage is if my face was shoved in it.

  And… Christ. She has freckles there too.

  I clear my throat.

  Hannah’s head pops up, and her eyes widen when they see me.

  “Maddox!” she says my name on a breathy gasp, and I feel it in my balls.

  “Hey, Bunny.”

  Her cheeks blush like I knew they would, and I’m tempted to pound my fists against my chest. But instead, I act like a human and close the distance between us.

  Hannah’s eyes bounce around my body. Looking from my chest to my legs to my face. “Are you okay?”

  I come to a stop before her. “Yes…” I drag the word out, not sure why I wouldn’t be. “Are you okay?”

  Her nose scrunches up. “What? No, I mean, are you okay, like physically?”

  “Physically?” I repeat with a smirk.

  She huffs. “From the game. When you banged yourself⁠—”

  I start to crack up. “I’m sorry, what did I do?”

  She rolls her eyes even as she smiles. “You know what I mean.”

  The few people nearby look our way, and I swallow down my lingering laughter. I didn’t mean to be so loud; this girl is just always catching me off guard.

  She shifts her weight on her feet, and the movement draws my gaze down. “How’s the ankle?”

  “Hmm? Oh. Seriously, Maddox, it doesn’t hurt at all. Not even a little.”

  I watch her face and accept that she’s telling me the truth.

  She lifts her brows like she’s waiting for me to answer something.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Are you really okay?” She looks back at my chest. “I know you wear padding and stuff during the game, but still, some of those hits looked like they hurt.”

  Padding and stuff.

  “God, you’re cute.” I say exactly what I’m thinking and enjoy the look of surprise on her face. “They’re just called pads. And yeah, sometimes it hurts having a three-hundred-pound dude knock you to the ground, but I’m used to it.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  HANNAH

  “Being used to it doesn’t mean you’re not injured,” I point out while ignoring the cute comment.

  Yes, being called cute is a compliment. But this is the guy I was thinking about while I touched myself last night. I don’t want him to view me as cute. I want him to view me as… fuckable.

  He spreads his arms wide and turns in a slow circle, giving me a view of all of him.

  The move doesn’t really prove his point. But fine, twist my arm, I’ll look.

  His jeans hug his thick thighs and ass. His gray T-shirt stretches across his massive body. And he’s wearing a zip-up HOP U hoodie, which blocks my view of what I know are impressive back muscles, but it doesn’t make him any less impressive to look at.

  I’m pressing my lips together to keep myself from drooling.

  Maddox lowers his arms when he’s back to facing me. “See?”

  “Okay, fine, you’re not injured. But if you decide something hurts, I still have a can of pop in the fridge.” I gesture toward the back room. “You can put it… wherever.”

  “Appreciate that.” His smile is genuine. “What are you doing now?”

  I notice all the people staring at us — or more like staring at the Mad Dog Maddox — and lower my voice. “Nothing. You?”

  He lifts the book in his hand. I was too distracted looking at him to notice he was holding it.

  “I was hoping to get some reading done. Thought the library would be a good place to do it.”

  “Oh.” It’s all I can think of saying in response.

  “And since you said you liked it” — he gives the book a shake — “I thought you might be interested in joining me.”

  Oh!

  “Sure,” I answer without overthinking. “If you want the company.”

  Maybe I should’ve played it cooler than that? Pretended to have plans on a Friday night. But whatever. You only live once.

  “Yeah?” His smile widens.

  I nod.

  I want to ask if he’s inviting me as a friend or as more, but there’s no good way to ask that. Not without making it incredibly awkward between us.

  Then he holds out his hand. For me.

  Slowly, with my heart stuttering inside my chest, I reach out and place my palm in his.

  Maddox closes his large fingers around mine and turns us away from the central seating area toward the stairs.

  I take a deep inhale through my nose.

  We’re holding hands.

  I might be a bit naive, but I’m not that innocent. You don’t walk around holding hands with someone you plan to friend zone.

  Breathing evenly, I follow Maddox through a few rows of shelving.

  When we reach the stairs, he breaks the silence. “I figured we could use one of the study rooms. I didn’t bother signing one out since they’re usually empty on a Friday night.”

  “You spend a lot of your Friday nights taking girls to the study rooms?”

  He squeezes my hand with a chuckle. “You’re my first.”

  I trip on the next step.

  His deep laugh bounces around the stairwell as he raises our joined hands, helping me catch my balance.

  “I meant you’re the first girl I’ve asked to study with me. I’m not a…” He trails off.

  Heat fills my face, and I keep my eyes forward.

  “I’m not either,” I practically whisper.

  I don’t know why it feels important to let him know I’m not a virgin.

  Maybe it’s because I don’t want him to hold back around me. And if he thinks I’m saving myself for something, then he might.

  He doesn’t need to know it’s only been once. And only when I was nineteen, and my best guy friend was moving across the country, and neither of us wanted to die a virgin. So we made a pact, and the night before he moved, we got drunk and had sex. The agreement was that we’d never talk to each other again because it would be too weird after. And the plan worked.

  We gave each other our V cards. Neither of us remembers much of it, and we hugged out our hungover goodbyes and haven’t talked since.

  Truly, no regrets.

  Maddox flexes his fingers around mine again, and the grunt he lets out sounds a little more gruff than any I’ve heard before.

  We exit the stairwell on the second floor and walk toward the group of little rooms in the center of the building. There are eight study rooms situated in two rows of four.

  They’re small. Just big enough for a rectangular wooden table and four wooden chairs with scratchy blue seat cushions.

  The handles don’t lock, but there’s a window on the top half of the door so you can see if it’s occupied.

  Maddox pulls me along, not stopping until we reach the room farthest from the stairs. The light is off, so we know it’s empty.

  As our steps slow, Maddox lets go of my hand to open the door but moves his other palm to the small of my back.

  “After you.” He applies a little extra pressure with his hand, and I step into the room.

  Maddox turns the overhead light on as the door shuts, and I make my way around to the far side of the table.

  But instead of sitting across from me, Maddox shuffles around the table from the other side and sits in the seat next to mine.

  TWENTY-SIX

  MADDOX

  Hannah tries not to react, but I know she wasn’t expecting me to sit beside her.

  I set my book on the table, watching her eyes move from the book up to my face.

  “Do you have anything else?” She glances at her backpack sitting on the table in front of her, pulling out a thing of orange Tic Tac’s and offering me one.

  I shake my head as I pop a few into my mouth. “The assignment isn’t due until the end of the semester, and my memory is good. I’m just a really slow reader.” I lift a shoulder, for some reason not feeling self-conscious over admitting that to her.

  I’m not stupid. I’m just not a fast reader.

  It took me a while to separate those two things in my mind. Mostly because of the shit other students would say. But even though I know I’ll never be the type of person who can read a book in a day, I still enjoy reading.

  Hannah picks up The Count of Monte Cristo. “Are you sure there wasn’t a longer book to choose from?”

  I grin.

  This right here is why I feel so comfortable around her.

  No jokes about me being some dumb jock.

  No pitying remarks.

  Just acceptance.

  “I’ll be honest, I didn’t know how many pages there were when I chose it,” I admit. “But the other options didn’t interest me, or I’d already seen the movie.”

  Since we’re sitting side by side, Hannah has to tip her head back to look at me.

  She lifts her pointer finger. “First, it’s a freaking awesome movie. Highly recommend.” She lifts a second finger. “What sort of assignment is this?”

  I turn to face her better and hold up two fingers. “We need to read a book, watch the movie adaptation, then write a report on why the book is better.”

  “Seriously?” Hannah laughs, causing me to smile.

  “Okay, so the teacher said to write about which version has better storytelling, but her bias was pretty obvious.” I lower one of my fingers, counting down Hannah’s points. “How about when I finish the book, you and I watch the movie together?”

  Hannah gives me a little nod. “I’d like that.” She taps her nail against the cover of the book. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  I snort before I can stop myself. “Sorry.” I grab her hand before she can pull away. “I’m not laughing at you. Just…” I shake my head. “I wouldn’t be sitting here, with you, in this tiny room, if I had a girlfriend. Just like if I were your boyfriend, you wouldn’t be sitting in one of these rooms with someone else.” I brush my thumb across the inside of her wrist. “You don’t have a boyfriend, right?”

  Her pulse is strong against my touch as she shakes her head. “No. No boyfriend.”

  “Good.”

  She gives me a half smile before blowing out a puff of air. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was accusing you or anything. I just saw someone with a sign about you at the game yesterday and…” She shrugs.

  “Did the sign say I’m Mad Dog’s girlfriend?”

  Her lips pull to the side. “No, but that’s probably a good way to get free drinks.”

  I chuckle. “Men are pretty simple. It’d probably work.”

  “Next time.”

  I know she’s joking along with me, but I like hearing her say that. Next time.

  “How would you like to do this?” She pushes her bag farther across the table, making space in front of herself.

  A vision of lifting her onto the surface, spreading her legs, and plunging into her flashes into my mind.

  I almost groan.

  On the stairs, when she said I’m not either, I was torn between wanting to spank her for not waiting for me and wanting to beat the other man into the ground for touching what was obviously meant to be mine.

  It’s hypocritical to want her to never have seen another dick before. Because I’ve, well… But it doesn’t matter what either of us has done in the past. That’s the past. Now is now.

  “Maddox?”

  I blink. “I’m good. Just… thinking.”

  Thinking I need to adjust my half-hard cock, but I can’t really do that subtly.

  Her brows knit together. “Are you sure you’re okay? I don’t know how you can play like that and still walk after the game.”

  “You that worried about me, Bunny?”

  She heaves out a breath. “I just find it hard to believe you aren’t covered in bruises. If I got hit like that, I’d lie on the floor crying.”

  I turn until I’m completely sideways in my chair, facing her. “If anyone ever hit you, they’d be the one lying on the floor crying.” Her eyes widen, and I roll my shoulders out. “Remember, you asked for this.”

  “What—”

  Before she can finish her question, I reach down and pull up the hem of my shirt, lifting it up to my chest.

  “Maddox!” Hannah gasps, glancing at the window like she’s worried someone else might see.