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Joel took a deep breath. I sneaked a glance up at him from under my lashes.

He was wearing a pale grey pinstripe suit with a teal green shirt underneath, open at the collar.

Why was it that we always seemed to unintentionally match when we went out?

Normally I would have made some smart-arse comment about it, but the words just dried up in my throat.

In some stupid way I kind of liked it that we were colour coordinated.

I walked to the door and stopped to wait for him. He approached, then paused, facing me. He was just too close, it was intoxicating. Why was I unable to resist feeling aroused when I was near him? If anything, having sex with him had made those feelings more intense.

He made no move to open the door. Neither did I.

Seconds inched by.

Eventually I took a deep breath and turned the handle. I walked out, feeling his eyes on me the whole way down the hallway.

Then we were in the limo that the WTA had sent for their ‘guest of honour’.

It was the longest ride of my life. It felt like there was a live wire running between Joel and me.

His hand was resting on the seat between us, as was mine, less than an inch separating them.

I was gritting my teeth, resisting the almost irresistible urge to weave my fingers through his and hold on tight.

Don’t be so stupid, Mel , I told myself firmly. It was just sex. It’s out of your system now and soon enough these feelings will go away. There’s nothing else going on here. Just sex.

Joel helped me out of the limo at the other end. Wherever his hand touched my skin felt hot to the point of burning. I was immediately hustled away by media for photos with Heather, and unfortunately, Pete and his opponent, Donatello Herrera.

Joel was left behind, and he watched me with a faraway smile as I was carried away by the tide of journalists.

“You look like you’ve been enjoying yourself this afternoon,” Pete commented quietly as we posed for the cameras. I gritted my teeth through the fake smile I was forcing. Donatello was on my other side, smiling vaguely at the camera.

“You have no right to comment on how I look, Pete Levine!” I hissed, then proceeded to ignore him until the photographers released us.

I caught Joel eyeing me from the bar. He noticed me looking and winked, toasting me with the beer in his hand. I wanted to go and drink with him, but I wasn’t sure I could handle being that close to him right now.

“Hey, Mel, wanna dance?” Clayton Banks asked behind me. I turned and grinned at him.

“Sure, why not? We haven’t caught up in ages!” I commented as Clayton led me onto the dance floor. “Congrats on making it to the semis.”

Clayton beamed at me. “Come on, Mel, don’t congratulate me – you’re the Wimbledon champ here! When we get back home, they’ll probably have forgotten my name!”

I giggled. “I don’t think so, Clay. You have a penis, remember? You’re instantly more interesting to sports journalists.”

Clay barked out a laugh at that. “Don’t forget I’m the only openly gay Australian tennis player with a penis.”

I sneaked a look out of the corner of my eye. Joel was standing at the bar, watching me over the top of his beer. I dragged my eyes away from him, turning back to Clayton with a smile. He’d seen where my eyes had taken me and he smirked knowingly.

“Mixing business with pleasure, Mel?” he murmured .

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but my blush gave me away. “No idea what you’re talking about, Clay.”

He snickered at me. “No judgement. I’ve known Joel Herbert for a long time – his family and mine go way back – he’s a really decent guy. Smart. Hot as fuck.” I caught Clayton watching Joel in a more than friendly way.

I smacked playfully at his arm. “He’s straight , Clayton Banks!” I hissed.

Clay grinned at me. “Hey, it’s a free world, I’ll look all I want thanks.”

After my dance with Clayton, the evening passed in a blur for me.

A blur of flashing cameras, cocktails, polite conversation with players and coaches and media, cocktails, tipsy small talk with some of the female players, more cocktails.

And yet at no time through the whole night did I lose sight of where Joel was.

It was as if all my senses were suddenly tuned in to his frequency.

If he talked to another woman, I felt it like the stab of a hot knife.

If I happened to be talking to a guy when I caught him glancing back in my direction, I made sure to smile brightly and laugh, as if whoever I was talking to had just made the funniest joke.

I think a lot of men that night decided that I was a little nuts. I sort of decided I was too.

I was sipping at my third Tequila Sunrise when his voice was in my ear.

“Okay, I’ve had a fun night playing games with you, Mel, but now I want to take you home.” I heard the suggestion in his tone and my insides burst into flames. I tried desperately to keep my cool.

“Alright, Joel,” I didn’t like the way my heart skipped a beat when I said his name, although I was pretty sure it was just because I knew exactly what would happen when he ‘took me home’.

There was a car waiting at the bottom of the steps, and Joel opened the door for me. I slid across to the far seat and he followed me in. The door closed, and the driver moved away from the kerb.

I wanted desperately to ask Joel what was going on here – why I suddenly felt like I couldn’t be near him without going almost insane with the urge to hike my dress up and climb onto his lap.

I’d thought that need might ease off now I’d slaked my thirst for him, but it was even more unbearable. I couldn’t possibly admit that to him.

I didn’t have a chance to work out what to say, because the second I turned to him his lips were on mine, his hands were on my waist and I was flying.

It wasn’t until his hand slipped along my thigh, up under my dress that I remembered we were still in the hire car, and the driver would be able to see everything.

I broke away from Joel with an effort. He looked at me curiously.

“Just until we get back to the hotel,” I whispered.

He grinned at me, stroking my cheek, his thumb brushing across my lips.

I opened my mouth and he slipped it inside.

I sucked on it gently, his moan coiling me tighter.

It was like the entire evening had been hours of protracted foreplay, and I was wound tight, ready to burst.

I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to make it up in the lift. Joel was pressed up against me, his hands on my butt, his mouth at my throat, leaving me gasping for breath, desperate for him.

The lift came to a halt with a little dinging sound and the doors slid open. Joel didn’t stop kissing my collarbone.

“Are we going to go inside, or do you want to do this here?” I asked breathlessly. Joel broke away and grinned down at me.

“Whatever you want, Mel. Here’s pretty good, don’t you think?”

I almost let him have his way. Only the worry that the lift might head back down and pick someone else up stopped me. I straightened up and tugged at his hand. He followed willingly enough. I could feel his lips on the back of my neck as I unlocked the door and stumbled inside.

The door closed and he pinned me up against the wall, kissing me hard and fast. I was defenceless. Not that I was trying to resist all that hard. Or at all.

He reached under my dress.

“Fuck, Mel!” he grated out, finding nothing but hot, wet flesh. I grinned against his mouth.

“VPL is a very real problem, Joel,” I teased as I reached down and unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and pulled his penis out of his pants. He lifted me up against the wall and lowered me onto him. I bit my lip to prevent myself from screaming out right then .

He moved inside me, holding me against the wall, his hands supporting my butt and his forehead pressed against mine. The coil tightened even further as his hands squeezed my butt cheeks, his fingers slipping between them as he pounded me, muttering darkly between his thrusts.

“I can’t believe,” thrust “that you were just,” thrust “walking around that party,” thrust “with no,” thrust “fucking,” thrust “panties on.” Two quick, deep thrusts.

I moaned into his shoulder as I came.

He set me back down again, holding me until I was back on earth enough to stand on my own, before stepping out of his pants and peeling me out of my dress.

I dragged his jacket off him and unbuttoned his shirt.

I giggled as I looked at him standing there with a massive boner, naked except for his socks and shoes, and I bent down to take them off him.

When I straightened up, he grabbed me to him and carried me into his bedroom.

Spread out naked on his bed, my hair splayed around my face and shoulders, with Joel watching me intently as he crawled up the bed towards me, was utter torture. Despite having just come on him, I ached for more.

Joel stopped just short of my mouth, his lips finding my jaw, his hands tangling in my hair. I reached towards him, but he grabbed my wrists in both hands and held them above my head.

“Uh-uh,” he murmured. “No touching for you. It’s my turn.

” My breath caught in my throat as he started feathering light kisses down my collarbone and between my breasts.

My nipples hardened in anticipation, but he continued on past them, kissing down my stomach, pausing to dart his tongue into my belly button.

I arched towards him with a gasp, pressing my belly against his face. He moaned into my skin. I longed to grip my hands in his hair and guide his mouth exactly where I wanted it. I think he realised; he lifted his head, eyes burning.