Page 18

Chapter eighteen

~ARES~

Her cheeks are flushed, pupils blown wide with fear and need, and I’ve never wanted anything more than I want her right now.

Not a goal.

Not a game.

Not a win.

Her.

I hold her tighter against the counter, making it impossible for her to breathe without feeling every inch of me pressed against her. Her breath is a mess of stutters, her eyes filled with excitement, hiding behind the fear of getting caught. She’s looking at me like she’s in danger. And she’s right. Even though there’s no police coming for us, no security on our heels, she’s in fucking danger because she hid crucial information from me.

I know who she is. I know who her father is, and I know the truth she didn’t tell me.

I’ve never been one to draw lines in the sand, but even I know I did something unforgivable last night. I should feel guilty for what I’m doing, for what I've already done. But all I feel is the need to take more from her until I’m in control again. Because right now, this girl has me by the balls. If she told me to drop to my knees and beg for her, I would. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give this girl, and even though she’s looking at me like she’s in danger, I’m the one who’s in fucking danger. Because she has the power to destroy me, to leave me a broken, scattered mess. And for the first time in my life, I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how to shield myself. How to close myself off to it.

All I can do is pray that she’s merciful. That if she breaks me, she does it gently, like she does everything else. But I don’t deserve gentleness. I don’t deserve her tenderness. I’ve never been treated with care and don’t expect that to change. But I feel it with her, and it scares the fuck out of me.

And I should be angry.

I am angry.

She introduced herself as just Irene. Not Irene Brown. She tried to hide it from us. Tried to hide it from me like I wouldn’t find out about it. There is guilt somewhere deep within me, yes. I owe everything I have to her father. I have taken so much from him, but I’m not done taking. Because I want his daughter, and I’ll fucking take that, too. Steal it if I have to.

I’m not going to punish her for keeping it from me. Not yet. She’s still too sore from last night. Her body’s not ready for what I really want to do, for what I’m planning once she can take it.

So, for now?

I grab a small, ripe strawberry from the tray as her eyes follow my every movement. I bring the fruit to my lips and sink my teeth into the stem. The leaves tickle the edge of my lip as I lower my head and offer the strawberry to her with my mouth. Her eyes widen, moving between the strawberry and me. She licks her full lips, a small smile playing on them.

I hover close, the fruit caught between us.

The invitation to take a bite is clear. I want to push her, but I also want to see her push back. I love seeing the panicked look in her eyes just as much as the hidden desire underneath it.

She hesitates for a second before leaning in. And then she bites, her teeth brushing against my lips, our breaths mingling.

And I don’t wait. I spit out the stem, grab the back of her neck, and press my lips to hers. The taste of the berry mixes between us, but it’s sour compared to the sweetness of her mouth. I plant tender kisses on her lips, waiting for her to swallow the strawberry before I deepen it. I don’t want her to choke. Not on a fruit. The vision of her on her knees for me flashes in my mind, and it’s enough to make me groan into her mouth and sink my teeth into her bottom lip.

I feel her knees go soft as her fingers curl into my shirt. Her small tongue snakes out to meet mine, clumsy but eager.

When I pull back, she’s gasping. Her eyes are glossy, her mouth is red, her lips glistening with strawberry and need. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

I don’t give her a second to recover. Instead, I slide my hand up her thigh and below the hem of her little sundress. Her body tenses, bracing itself for the moment my fingers reach their destination. The soft whimper she lets out when my fingers brush against the soaked fabric of her panties is music to my ears. The sounds she makes at the first stroke of my fingers has my dick begging for more room to grow. I growl, lips still brushing hers, as I rub her slowly, letting her arousal build. I can trace the outline of her lips through her panties.

“Do you like it when I feed you?”

Her moan is a yes. I want every single fucking bite she takes to be from my lips, every breath she draws to come from mine. I want her to need me just as much as I fucking need her. I stroke in lazy little circles, letting her feel what we both know I’m about to do.

“Ares, we have to go,” she breathes out weakly, already trembling.

“You know you don’t want me to stop, do you?” I murmur, watching her eyes flutter shut.

She shakes her head. Her whole body is pulled tight, waiting.

“Be honest with me, baby. You want me to keep going, don’t you?” I stroke her clit through the material, just enough to tease.

She chokes out a sound that’s part moan, part plea.

So, I do it again—and again—slow, measured, and cruel. I want her to go crazy.

But she’s inexperienced, her body so new to someone else’s touch, that I feel her getting closer and closer to coming just from this. Her entire body locks up, her thighs clench, and her mouth opens in a silent cry as her hips twitch forward.

“Oh, no, baby,” I murmur, slowing my fingers. “Not yet.”

“Please,” she breathes, her head falling back, voice raw.

I press my mouth to her jaw, tasting her skin. “Please what, sweetheart?” I ask, not teasing—coaxing. I want every shattered word she gives me.

“Don’t stop,” she begs, hips rolling into my hand.

My fingers press deeper, more deliberately. “That’s it,” I whisper, increasing my speed with more pressure. “That’s it. Let me feel you come for me again.”

Her thighs tremble around me. I hold her through it, stroke her slow and steady, completely undone by the way she responds to nothing but my hands.

She whimpers, her hips rolling up, grinding her pussy into my hand as she fists the front of my T-shirt and yanks me closer.

God, that sound.

“Insatiable little thing,” I rasp, pressing my fingers harder against her. “One taste of my cock and now you can’t go without it, huh?”

Her head falls back with a moan, loud and needy, the sound swallowed by the crash of the waves behind us. I can’t help myself—I dip down and bite the curve of her throat, just hard enough to make her shudder. She whimpers, and I soothe the sting with my tongue, kissing the spot I marked as mine.

Then I hook my fingers into her panties, pulling them aside, baring her to the ocean air.

Her eyes snap to mine, wide and hazy with lust, as I drag two fingers down her slit, parting her folds before slowly pushing them inside—just halfway.

“Ares,” she breathes, her voice trembling as she arches into me. Her unraveling with the sun on her skin and the ocean roaring behind her might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I don’t stop. I press my thumb to her clit and rub in slow, dirty circles while my fingers work deeper, stretching her open again. She clenches around me, so wet and tight, I almost lose it.

“Not so worried about breaking and entering now, are you?” I murmur, thrusting slow and deep, watching her come apart just for me.

I lean in, capturing her sweet lips with mine, feeling her tighten around my fingers. I pull them out of her while I drag my other palm up the side of her legs. I hook my thumbs in the waistband of her panties and tug until they drop to the floor around her ankles.

I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her, leaving her soaked panties on the floor. She gasps into my mouth, a startled sound that turns breathless as I drop her gently on the counter. She spreads her legs instinctively, like her body already knows what’s coming.

What a good, good girl.

I pull away and look at her, legs spread open, bare on the counter. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth with a groan as I take my time looking at her. Every inch of her pussy is swollen and pink, thighs trembling, still sensitive. And so fucking wet for me.

“You look so fucking sweet like this,” I murmur. I grip the back of her knees and pull her legs wider, spreading her until there’s no modesty left between us. She’s panting now, her face red, hands gripping the edge of the counter. The bright sun gives her dark hair an almost golden hue around her, making her look even more like an angel.

I lift my hand, curl two fingers under her chin, and tilt her face up.

Let’s see how much she’s willing to do for me.

“Look,” I say.

“What?” she asks, panting.

I turn her face to the ceiling, directly at the black security camera mounted above the kitchen.

Her breath catches like it’s been stolen from her. “Ares.” She closes her eyes and tries to twist my face away from my grip.

“Shhh.” I stroke my thumb across her cheek, gently. “Are you going to be a good girl and give the security cameras a show?”

She goes still, every muscle tensing. I can feel the conflict tearing through her.

Fear. Shame. Excitement. Desire. I can see it all in her honey-brown eyes as I lower myself and kiss the inside of her soft thigh. She smells like vanilla and the ocean breeze, and I have to summon all my self-control.

I kiss her again, closer to where she’s soaking for me, a tease that makes her gasp.

“You wanted to be reckless,” I whisper, tongue dragging along her skin. I can’t fucking wait to taste her. “Show the cameras how good I make you feel.” I press my mouth to her open, pink pussy.

“God, Ares. Yes,” she pants, her hand burying into my hair.

I give her a single lick, slow and filthy, just a taste of what’s coming—and Jesus, she’s addictive. The sound that comes out of her has my dick pressing painfully against my zipper. One hand flies to cover her mouth while the other fists my hair.

“No hiding,” I groan, pulling her hand away and pinning it against the counter.

Her eyes flick toward the camera again, and I don’t wait. I can’t wait anymore.

I hold her right leg open with one hand while the other parts her, spreading her wide for me. The sight of my tattooed fingers against her soft folds nearly takes me out. My hand belongs here. My cock belongs here. My mouth belongs between her thighs like it was made for this. And if she decides to end me right here, if she suffocates me in her, I’ll die a grateful man. When I glance up, she’s already watching me—flushed and wild-eyed, like she’s seconds from losing her mind. And then I bury my face between her legs.

Tongue, lips, fingers—I use all of them as she cry's out with the waves crashing into the cliff as backing vocals. She holds me by my hair, pulling me into her while I lap her up. I eat like I’m starving. Like I’m trying to erase every man who’s ever looked at her, every asshole in the locker room who would kill to be where I am right now. In my house, with my woman.

She bucks and moans, trying to get more of my tongue inside her while my fingers play with her clit. My hand flies out to grip her chin and tilt her face toward the camera again, and I feel her tighten around my tongue.

Look at the camera, little one. We’re going to watch this later.

I’m going to ruin her so thoroughly, so completely, that every fiber of her being knows who she belongs to.

Her taste coats my mouth—salty, delicious, and mine. She writhes beneath my grip, thighs trembling around my shoulders, her back arching on the counter. She’s trapped, pinned between the cold marble and my tongue and the weight of everything she doesn’t know I know.

I dig my fingers into her hips, holding her steady, making her take every second.

“Let them watch you fall apart on my tongue.” My voice is low and hoarse.

She gasps, high and breathless, as her head rolls to the side.

I take her clit between my lips and tug while curling my fingers inside her.

She makes a sound I feel in my chest—something between a sob and a moan.

I slide one hand up her stomach, over the soft cotton of the dress, and cup her breast, fingers splaying wide.

I release her clit and give it slow, soothing licks. I drag two fingers along her slickness, teasing, watching her jolt at the touch. Her body is so open for me, but what about her mind?

She thinks I still don’t know who she is. How long is she planning on lying to me? How long until she trusts me with not just her body? I want her trust, I want her honesty. And I’ll earn it, I’ll fuck it out of her if I have to.

I pull away and plant a kiss on the inside of her thigh. And this time, I can’t resist. I seal my mouth over the inside of her thigh and suck just hard enough to leave a mark. Her gasp turns into a whimper, her fingers tugging me closer, asking for more.

I curl my fingers inside her and start pumping in and out. She trembles, her breath catching on a sob.

My mouth leaves the tender mark on her thigh and finds its way back to her clit, swollen and begging for my attention. “You’re going to see me every time you close your eyes.” I flick my tongue once, slow and hot. “Every time you sit down.” Another stroke. Every time you lie to me and think I don’t know.

She cries out, her pussy tightening around my fingers. And I don’t stop. Not when her hands claw at my neck, hair, and arms. Not when her moans turn into half-sobs. Not when her thighs shake like she’s breaking open.

I lick her through it and slide my fingers out while she’s still pulling me against her.

I’m not leaving, little one. There’s no getting rid of me now.

Because she hasn’t seen what I look like when I own someone.

I unbutton the top of my pants and straighten over her, breath ragged, jaw tight, the need crawling through my veins like fire.

She’s a flushed, quivering mess. Her body is wide open for me, but I want her soul. And I’ll work for it until she gives it to me. I’m a patient man.

I press her thighs wider with a single hand, then glance up at the red light above us. The security camera blinks silently.

“Unzip me,” I growl, looking back down at her.

Her eyes fly to mine, wide and dazed.

“Unzip me and take my cock out. Just like last night.”

She purses her lips in an attempt to suppress a smile at the mention of last night before she looks down. She lifts her hand tentatively, and her fingers find my zipper before pulling it down. The sound makes it feel louder and forbidden.

Irene shifts so she can slide her hand in, and when her soft fingers finally wrap around me, my vision fucking blurs.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Her touch is shy and careful as she takes my cock out. My length springs free, and she parts her lips to suck in a gulp of air.

“Now stroke me. Slowly,” I command, trying to hold myself back. “Just like I taught you last night.”

She obeys, each glide of her hand is like heaven and hell all at once. She glances up at me with a hopeful yet questioning look in her beautiful brown eyes, seeking confirmation that she’s doing it right.

“You’re doing so good,” I rasp, cupping her cheek. “Just like that.”

Her eyes light up at the praise, then drop lower again.

“Where do you want me?” I ask, my hand sliding off her cheek and dragging down her body.

She doesn’t answer. Just spreads her legs wider in a silent, devastating invitation, her pussy glistening—wet, open, waiting.

My cock throbs at the sight, and a growl rips from my throat.

“Do it, then,” I murmur.

“W-what?” she breathes.

“Show them,” I whisper against her lips. “Show the cameras how much you want it.”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, her eyes dark with hunger. She reaches between us—not to take control but to guide. Her fingers wrap around me, soft and hesitant, and she drags me through her slick heat. A low curse tears from my throat.

She rubs me against herself until I’m slick with her. Then, with a shaky breath, she lines me up at her entrance. Her gaze locks on mine, wide and pleading, and she guides me in—inch by inch—welcoming me with her touch.

The second I feel the tip sink into her heat, I'm lost.

“Mm,” she whimpers, lips pressed tight, her body opening to the stretch. But she doesn’t stop. She keeps guiding me in—slowly, steadily—inch by devastating inch. Her face twists in a mix of pain and pleasure.

And fuck, this—this is the moment I’ll replay until I die. The moment she lets me in. Her choice. Her terms. On her own, in front of whoever she thinks might watch the footage from the cameras above us. The only eyes that will see it are mine. No one else. Ever.

She’s pulled me halfway inside her when her hand slides off and she lets out a long moan, clearly having reached her limit.

Good.

Because I want her to feel it.

I want every nerve in her body to remember what it means to take me.

I wrap my fist around my shaft and sink in deeper. Her gasp breaks the air, helpless and shaky. I feel her walls struggle to take it. She’s even tighter today, her pussy raw and tender from last night. And it only makes me fucking harder. Because it’s mine. The ache, the orgasms, every sore spot—it belongs to me.

“You feel that?” I murmur, grinding my hips forward with punishing control.“That sweet stretch? The way your body’s clinging to mine, like it was made for this?”

Her eyes roll back with a moan as I sink in to the hilt, her body gripping me like it never wants to let go.

I brush her hair off her face, grip her chin, and force her to meet my gaze.

“That’s me, Irene,” I growl, voice low and ragged. “That ache you’ve been carrying around all day? That pulsing need you couldn’t get rid of?”

I lean in, my lips brushing hers, close enough to taste her breath. But I don’t kiss her. Not yet.

“That’s mine. And I don’t plan on letting you forget it.”

She moans, her legs wrapping tighter, hips rising to take me even deeper.

I pull out and thrust back in deeper, savoring every inch of her.

“I want your body to know mine so well,” I murmur against her skin, “that nothing else even exists.”

Another slow, deep roll of my hips.

“I want you aching for this…shaped by it. So full of me that there’s no room for anyone else.”

“Oh my God, Ares!” Her fingers dig into my back, and her head falls back. Her walls tighten even more around me at the words coming from my mouth.

I lean over her, one hand gripping her hip, the other sliding between her thighs again.

She’s so fucking tight around me I can barely move. Every inch is a war. A battle I’m winning. Because even while I’m fucking her on someone else’s kitchen counter, the security camera red-dot blinking right above us, she’s begging for more.

And she still doesn’t know this isn’t a stranger’s house. Doesn’t know she’s not being filmed for the police. But I let her think it—because I need her to want me more than she’s scared of getting caught. I want that kind of hunger. The kind that drowns out fear and makes her soak for me.

I thrust in again, watching her eyes flutter back as her nails claw at my shoulders.

“You’re insane,” she gasps, yet her hips are rocking forward, taking everything I have to give her.

“And you’re letting me fuck you in someone else’s house.” I smirk.

Her moan breaks on her lips, and I feel the warm trickle of blood as her nails break skin.

“Should I stop?” I ask, dragging my cock all the way out, leaving her empty, then slamming it back in with a sharp snap of my hips.

She cries out, but it’s cut off by my hand around her throat.

I lower my lips a breath away from hers as I keep dragging my cock in and out of her.

“Someone could be watching right now, ready to call the cops as soon as I’m done with you.”

Her body clenches around me so hard I groan.

“And you love it.” I thrust again. Deeper. “Letting me use your body while the camera watches?”

Her breathing’s all over the place now. I release my hold on her neck, an incoherent moan fly out of her parted lips.

“Every word I say makes you squeeze me tighter, doesn’t it?” I growl.

She nods and lifts her hips to meet mine, begging with her body.

Fucking god.

I slam in deeper and hold it there, grinding against that spot inside her that makes her legs shake. A deep sob rips from her throat as I angle myself and start pounding into her G-spot. My hip fucking hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the fire coursing through me right now.

She’s falling apart underneath me, hands gripping me, lips parted, pupils blown wide with that cocktail of shame and desire.

She looks like sin. Like the kind of girl you don’t just take. You keep. And I want to keep her forever. I want her to want to keep me forever, too. I want to be worth keeping.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” I growl, driving into her hard and unforgiving. “Tomorrow’s headlines. Tabloids plastered with your face twisted in pleasure, right next to the mugshot,” I murmur into her ear, my voice a knife wrapped in silk. Her moan is high, broken, and so sweet it makes my jaw clench.

I drag my tongue along her jaw.

“Soaked. Shaking. On my dick while they cuff us.”

Her body trembles, tightens. Every word I say feeds the thing unraveling inside her.

“You want this,” I whisper, my lips brushing her ear. “Doing something you’re not supposed to.”

“Yes,” she gasps, and her admission fuels me more.

“You gonna come for me?” I growl against her throat, my teeth nipping the skin before I soothe it with a kiss. “Gonna fall apart for the camera's?” Her body jerks beneath me as she lets out a high-pitched whimper. I know that sound. That breathless stutter in her throat. That helpless moan she tries to swallow.

She’s right there, and I want her to fall.

I grab her face and force her to look at me—eyes glassy.

“Come for me,” I growl. “Be a good girl and let go.”

And she does, right under me. Her whole body shudders, her back arches, and the sound she makes fucking ruins me. Her pussy squeezes my dick as she screams, and it takes all I have not to spill into her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you break.” I hold her through it, talking her down while she shakes, screams, and clings to me.

Her dress is bunched at her waist, pushed up halfway. But that won't do for what I have coming.

I grip the soft fabric and tug it higher, all the way up, until her breasts are bare, stomach slick with sweat, her thighs trembling from everything I’ve already taken from her.

This image of her is going to replay in my mind over and over again. My hand slides between her breasts and down her belly as she falls back on the bar.

My breath is coming faster now, heart pounding as I watch her writhe and clutch at me, too overwhelmed to stop any of it.

Her eyes roll back, and I lose it.

I pull out, grip her thighs hard enough to leave marks, and finish across her belly, hot cum shooting out of my dick and right across her perfect skin. I’m marking her, claiming her, watching her breasts tremble with every shaky breath.

She looks like a dream. And that’s exactly what she is. My dream.

Irene is still trembling on the bar, skin flushed and hair wild. Her legs are spread, her body still slick with cum, and damn if I don't want to bury myself inside her again. The ocean stretches behind her—endless, like the way my thoughts seem to spin around her. I watch her, taking in the way the sun catches her skin and how the soft breeze lifts her hair. I can’t help it—every time I look at her, I see her differently. Her dress is bunched around her neck, chest heaving like she just ran through hell barefoot.

I reach for a paper towel and tear off a piece. Gently, I wipe the mess that I made, tracing the curve of her body. She flinches slightly, her eyes snapping open when the towel brushes over her skin, but doesn’t pull away.

“I’m just cleaning you up,” I murmur, watching her relax. I’m not thorough with the cleaning. I want her to go talk to Daddy with my cum smeared across her stomach. It’s fucked up. But I can’t stop myself. The possessiveness, the hunger…it’s all twisting inside me, and no matter how wrong it feels, it feels so fucking good .

She doesn’t move. I’m not even sure if she can. Her body’s still adjusting to everything I’ve made her do. I toss the paper towel in the bin, my eyes flicking back to her.

I reach for her hand and pull her up, her dress falling back over her body like a veil. She sways a little, and my chest tightens—sick and proud.

She’s still trying to catch her breath when the panic starts creeping in. I see it in her eyes, darting around the outdoor area, like she suddenly remembers where we are. Her hands fist at my shirt, panic flooding in her eyes.

“Ares,” she whispers, her voice going small. “We really have to go. Please.”

She’s genuinely fucking scared, her body stiff, like she thinks we’re about to get caught for real. I don’t answer. All I can do is bite my lip to suppress a smile while she tries to slide off the counter. I help her down by her waist.

“Oh my god!” She’s moving as soon as her toes hit the floor. “We opened their wine!”

I feel my smile slip a little as I glance down at the bottle. I opened it. Yet she said we, not you. I don’t know if I should be reading into this as much as I am, but warmth spreads through my chest anyway. We. It feels like she’s claiming me just as much as I’ve claimed her.

She starts scrambling, grabbing her panties off the floor with shaking hands, trying to slide them back on like she’s racing the clock.

I stop her, wrapping my fingers around the fabric, my other hand holding her wrist, firm and final.

Her wide, nervous eyes snap to mine.

“You don’t get to wear these,” I murmur, pulling the panties from her fingers and tucking them into my pocket. “Not today.”

“That’s not funny. Do you have a panty fetish or something?” she breathes, glancing toward the window. “Seriously, Ares, we’re going to get arrested! My dad is going to kill us!”

She’s so worried she doesn’t even realize what she’s just said, how she gave herself away with that last sentence. Yet the only word I replay is us .

Irene and me. Us.

I step forward and cage her in with my body again, arms braced on either side of her. It’s cute how much she’s freaking out.

“Should I do it again?” I ask, my voice like dark silk. “Should I drag you back onto that counter and leave your soaked panties behind for them to find?”

“You’re crazy,” she whispers, her entire body going still. But her breathing is all over the place. It’s that easy to get her back into that sweet, dark headspace. The panic in her voice only makes it worse. It makes me want to keep her in this space, this stolen moment, where everything is mine. My house, my girl, and my cum on her stomach. And no one can take it away from me. Not here.

I smile and lean in, my lips brushing her ear.

“But you like it.”

Her eyes flick to me, desperation and desire mixing in her gaze.

“Let’s just go. Please,” she begs. “Before the owner gets home.”

I watch her silently, long enough to make her squirm. Then I tilt my head and drop the match.

“The owner’s already home,” I whisper, smiling down at her.

“What?” Her eyes round at the corners, and her head whips to the side to look around.

I slide my fingers around her jaw and slowly bring her gaze back to mine. “And he just fucked the sweetest little pussy in the world.”

She freezes mid-breath, that panic shifting into stunned disbelief. It’s dawning on her now. Her brain finally catches up.

And I watch it happen. The realization, the shift, and the crash. And when it does? She looks at me like I’m out of my mind. But I know enough about her to know it thrills her.“ This…this is your house?” she stammers, her mouth hanging open.

“In Florida, yes.” I nod, stepping back to give her room to breathe. “Would you like a tour of the inside?”

Her eyes dart across the space, at the furniture, the pool, the perfectly stocked bar, and the blinking camera above us.

Yes, I let her believe we were breaking in. I watched her freak out. I fucked her in my house just to see how far she’d let this go when she thought we were committing a crime.

“You’re such a…ugh!” she grunts, smacking my chest—not hard, more like a panicked reflex. Her cheeks are flaming, her voice breathless, half-mortified, half-something else entirely.

“Such a?” I raise a brow, handing her the champagne flute I’d filled earlier.

“I’ll let you fill in the blank yourself,” she throws with a little smile.

“Such an incredible hockey player?” I raise the glass toward her, prompting her to take it. “Such a god-tier fuck?”

Her cheeks immediately turn red, and she quickly snatches the glass from me like she’s not sure whether she wants to throw it in my face or down the hatch.

“I told my staff to stock it up this morning while you were asleep,” I inform her, sliding my own glass toward me.

“So, you really did open the door with a key?” she asks, still in disbelief, before she takes a generous sip of champagne. I have to make sure she doesn’t drink much before we’ve eaten. I don’t want her getting dizzy and having a bad time with me. I want to show her that I can be fun and light… and that I can be normal for her.

“I haven’t picked a lock in years,” I say with a shrug. “Would’ve taken me longer.”

“Why the heck did you use to pick locks?” She shakes her head in further disbelief. Heck. She can’t even say hell. Somehow, that makes what I did to her even sweeter.

“That’s a story for another time, little one.” I stalk toward her, and pluck the champagne flute off her fingers and set both mine and hers down on the bar.

“We should eat first,” I add, planting a kiss on the outer corner of her soft lips, the taste of her pussy still dancing on my tongue.

We spend the day wrapped in heat and stillness. And I just watch her—the way her nose crinkles when she laughs, the way her hair dances when she walks, the way the sun kisses her skin. I’m jealous of it. I’m jealous of the ocean breeze caressing her hair, and even the damn bottle touching her lips.

Fuck.

She’s pure sunshine.

And there she is, all soft smiles and addictive laughter, drinking cold champagne from the bottle and calling me “trouble.”

She laughs again. A real one. Head back, teeth showing, full of fucking light.

Something unfamiliar twists inside me, deep in my chest, and I can’t ignore it. She’s cracked something open inside me, something that wasn’t there before, and I know without a doubt I can’t close it again.

I want her around me more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. But with that want, there’s a heavy weight—a burden I didn’t ask for. Because I know who her father is. But all I can think about is how her laughter sounds in my ears, how soft her skin feels when I touch it, and how much I never want this day to end.

The sun’s lower now. Orange light bleeds across the sky, blinding as it hits the windshield. Irene’s beside me in the passenger seat, barefoot, legs curled under her, wearing her dress over nothing. And the car smells like her—like vanilla, champagne, and fruits. I should feel calm and satisfied. Instead, I’m gripping the wheel like I’m about to put my fist through the dashboard. Because I don’t want to drive back. I don’t want this day to end.

“I have a question,” she says, turning to me.

“Ask away.” I glance at her. Her cheeks are redder now from being in the sun all day.

“If you have a house here…” she pauses, looking at me with those big brown eyes, “why didn’t you just sleep there?”

My grip tightens as I stare ahead. I could lie and say I like hotels, that it was easier for team logistics. But that’s not the truth. The truth is…I didn’t want her that far from me. Didn’t want to think about her on the other side of the city, sleeping in some room surrounded by my horny-ass teammates making bets about who could get her to smile first. Didn’t want to be stuck in my empty fucking house, knowing she was somewhere else.

So, I say it.

“I wanted to be close to you.”

The silence that follows is instant, and so is the thumping of my heart. I don’t look at her, but I feel the shift.

Admitting to something like this feels like I’ve just jumped off a cliff, and she can either catch me or let me splat on the ground.

I finally glance at her, and she’s just staring at me with a smile. Not mocking, not playful. It’s warm, pretty, and all for me. Just like all of her smiles today.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer right away; she just presses her lips together, still smiling softly, eyes looking back to the road.

“That you have two pairs of my panties now,” she finally says turning toward the window to hide her blush.

“ For now,” I correct her.

Her head whips toward me in an instant, the pink in her cheeks deepening.

I don’t elaborate; I just glance over at her with a twitch of my lips.

Because if she thinks this ends here and just her panties, she hasn’t learned a damn thing about me yet.

As soon as we hit the marble floor of the lobby, it’s chaos. We took the back door, avoiding paparazzi and press. I spot Coach Brown the second we step inside, moving toward us like a bulldozer, determination written across his face. My pulse quickens, not from fear, but from a sick kind of amusement. I know I shouldn’t feel like this. I’ve been going back and forth between drowning in guilt and finding sick thrill in all of this.

Irene stiffens beside me. I can see the blush creeping up her neck and the way her shoulders tighten. She refuses to meet my eyes, and I can feel the unease simmer in my chest.

Brown walks up to us,

“Black,” he says, nodding. “You two talking about his injury?” He glances at Irene, who’s redder than a tomato.

“Yes,” she says a little too quickly. “About the upcoming scans we need to do.”

Actually, I took your daughter to my beach house and fucked her brains out.

Brown nods before turning back to me.

“How’s the pain?” he asks, nodding at my hip.

“Irene’s already on it,” I answer, my voice low and steady. “She’ll make sure it gets treated properly once we’re back.” I glance at Irene as I say it. She’s burning, knowing exactly what I’m implying. She’s already treating me, just in a different way than her daddy thinks.

“You sure you’re on top of it?” Coach turns his focus on Irene now, and she opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

More like under it. Wrapped around it. Coming on it.

“I’m on it, Coach.” She nods, but she won’t meet his eyes.

Coach. She’s still trying to hide this from me. Did he make her lie? Or was this her idea?

“She’s been brilliant, Coach,” I add, my voice a little too casual, even though everything inside me is anything but. “She really knows what she’s doing.”

Irene nods too quickly. “Just helping with mobility and stretch protocols,” she says, eyes glued to the floor like it’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen.

She’s trying not to meet Coach’s gaze, trying to keep her secrets buried while my heart is bleeding out all over the floor.

Coach seems satisfied with the answers, but I see the way his eyes flicker between us, like he’s trying to piece something together. I almost wish he would.

Some twisted part of me wants to see the moment it hits him.

I want to see him realize it, even as I sit here playing my part in front of him. And this isn’t normal. I’m fully aware of it. The rational part of me, the guilty one that knows how much I messed up, gnaws at me. But the other part is sharp and dark, and I know I won’t let guilt keep me from what’s mine.

I glance at Irene again, noticing how she bites her lip and takes a small step back, clearly trying to hide the way she’s struggling with everything.

“I’m in good hands, Coach,” I assure him once again, more than truthfully. Both figuratively and literally. I still feel them on me, nails digging into my skin as I pounded into her, watching her fall apart on my dick. And now? I’m watching her fall apart in my mind with her father standing in front of us.

“Alright, son. We’re ready to leave soon.” Brown pats me on the shoulder and turns his back on us, completely unaware that his daughter’s panties are in my back pocket.

The guilt is there, swirling in my gut, but it’s like a wave, coming and going. One moment, it’s crashing over me, drowning me in regret for what I’m doing. The fact that I’m here with her, this girl, the daughter of the man who saved my life, and I’ve had her like no one else has.

I should stop. I should step back, rip myself away from her, and try to find a way to make up for it all. But I can’t. I don’t want to. I’ve never been this consumed by someone, never let anyone have this much of a hold over me.

I don’t say anything; I just turn to her. Irene’s beet red and still avoiding my eyes. Like she didn’t squirm and moan under my mouth while hiding the fact that her last name is the same one stitched into the jacket of the man standing ten feet in front of us.

He’s turned away, talking to a few rookies, completely unaware of what’s happening between us.

And she’s still hiding it, still pretending that Brown is just a colleague. So, I give her something to think about.

I lean down, lips brushing her ear while I slowly slide my hand up her thigh and under her dress.

“You think he’d still trust me with you,” I murmur, “if he knew I’m the reason you’re not wearing underwear?”

She gasps, quietly and sharply, her body going stiff beside me

That’s when I turn and head for the elevators.

I glance back over my shoulder. She’s still frozen.

She may have fooled her father, but not me. And when we land in LA, I’ll make sure she never hides from me again.