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“Did Chase tell you two what we’re doing tonight?” I ask.
Chase and I talked this morning. I told him about my plans to take Madison out for a birthday dinner. Plans that include Chase and Oakley since they are in town.
“No.” She shakes her head.
“We’re taking you to that Italian restaurant over on Second Street. For your birthday.”
She smirks.
“What?” I ask.
“You know that’s where Johnny took me on our date, right?”
My brow furrows as I frown, picturing her out with that rocker wannabe. “No, I didn’t know that. Pick another place.”
She giggles. “No, I love Italian food. Let’s go there.”
“Pick another place,” I insist firmly. There’s no way in hell I’m taking her to the same spot as Johnny boy. When she hesitates, I make the decision for her. “We’ll go to the steak house on the edge of town.”
“That place is pricey,” she says.
“So?” I shrug arrogantly. “If you haven’t heard, I’m a professional athlete now. I can afford it.” I start to move toward my bedroom.
“How could I forget, Mr. Moneybags?”
Madison winds her arms around me from behind and plasters her breasts against my back. We walk together into the bedroom, each step awkward and off-balance, as my cock stirs in my pants.
I shift her around and throw her onto the bed. She bounces when her back hits the mattress. I stand above her and devour every inch of her with my eyes. She’s brand-new and yet so familiar that the sight of her lying in my bed creates an ache deep inside my chest. Her blonde hair is splayed out on my navy-blue sheets. Her iridescent eyes are focused on my face, studying me. Her lips are a light shade of pink, slightly gaped and swollen from my kisses. The lines of her collarbone are delicate yet prominent, and I find myself wanting to run my tongue across them. She’s wearing another one of her tank tops that hug every swell of her torso. That little scrap of material is going to be the death of me. Her nipples are pebbled nubs through the cotton. I’m not sure if it’s the cold air-conditioned air that’s making them hard or if she’s turned on, like I am. Either way, they’re begging to be touched. Her tank has ridden up, exposing a strip of skin above the waistband of her shorts. It’s just a glimpse, a tease. I need to see more.
I follow her down to the mattress, and her legs open to make room for my hips. I kiss her. Things turn heated quickly.
There’s always been an underlying attraction between Mads and me. But the sexual tension has grown, and it now feels oppressive. It engulfs me every time I look at her, and I can sense it every time I catch her eyes on me. I’ve held back night after night, torturing myself by having her close—having her in my bed—but not taking her. Like that elusive apple that offered the most delicious, most tempting bite, but the same one you refused to indulge in. Forbidden fruit. That ends now.
“What time are we supposed to be at the restaurant?” Madison’s voice is thick with lust as I lick along her neck and grasp her earlobe between my teeth, tugging lightly.
I’ve forgotten all about our dinner plans.
I glance at my alarm clock on the bedside table. “We’ve got a little over an hour.”
“Good,” she says and starts attacking my neck, sucking on my skin.
“Don’t give me a hickey.” I lean back with a smirk when she sucks a little too hard.
Her beautiful features scrunch up with displeasure. “Why not? You don’t want all those puck bunnies to know you’re taken?”
I pull back further and pause above her, recognizing the jealous look on her face. I’m surprised by it. Mads isn’t the possessive type with men. And it amazes me that she’s blind to the fact that every other woman completely disappears from my vision when she’s in the room. Or even when she’s not. I can’t pinpoint exactly when that happened, but it has.
“No, I just don’t want to take crap from my new teammates because I show up at training camp with a fading love bite on my neck like some prepubescent teen. They’re already going to treat me like a rookie. I don’t need to give them more ammunition.” My hands land on either side of her face, holding her still. I stare at her as she looks back at me, making sure she’s listening when I say these next words. “Do you not realize yet that there are no other women? That there never really was?”
None that mattered before you.
Her light-blue eyes travel between both of mine. “But I’m no different,” she insists. “We’re temporary, just like the others were. You’re leaving in a few weeks. And I’m staying here.”
I can’t tell if she’s searching for reassurance from me or if she’s already resigned to our situation ending soon and is simply reminding me of that truth. Madison has always been a realist.
“I have no idea what the future holds for me. Or for us,” I say honestly. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” I run my nose along her cheek, her skin silky soft. I nip at her lips and then speak against them. “But what I do know is … everything that’s happening here, now, between us … is different. You are nothing like the other women I’ve been with. And they were nothing like you.”
And if we’re temporary … at least we’re here now. Together.
