Page 3 of Stand Your Ground

“Isn’t it obvious?” I shrugged. “I’m a professional athlete. I go out at least twice a week and have girls hanging all over me, but I can never land the deal. Either I run them off with my pathetic attempt at flirting or I get them home and fucking choke.” I ran a hand through my hair, shaking my head as I looked at the ground. My jaw was really numb now, words slurring a bit, and I knew Livia needed to get to work doing whatever hellish things she needed to do to me before this numbness wore off. “I’m hopeless, alright? Somehow, I figured my shit out on the ice. I’m in the National League now, no longer being sent down to the A, and I’ve got a lot to offer someone. I just… I can’t prove that if I can’t get past first base.”

Livia’s gaze softened.

“Plus, I’m horny.”

She laughed the sweetest, most genuine laugh at that.

I beamed with my broken-tooth grin, swallowing down the fact that the woman I’dmostlike to prove myself to was her. I liked Livia. I had for years. I knew it, she knew it, our whole fuckingcrewknew it — and they all teased me about it because they all saw the obvious.

She was entirely out of my league.

We were exact opposites; her dominant and me submissive, her confident and me insecure, her living carefree while I struggled to feel adequate every day I woke up.

Yes, I wanted her to teach me to be confident, to show me how to step into a room and take up space. But I also wanted to show her that I was more than the guy she’d immediately friend-zoned, that I could go toe-to-toe with her, that I could make her feel good.

I wanted her.

And maybe part of this hare-brained scheme was to show her that I deserved a shot at more than just friends.

But I couldn’t admit all that just yet. Maybe one day she’d see me as more than an annoying fly buzzing around her, but for now, I just needed her to see enough to give me this.

“Okay,” she conceded after a moment. “I can understand why you might want an arrangement like this. But… why me?”

I sucked my teeth. “Really, Liv? Come on. Look at you.” I waved my hand like it was a magic wand covering her in golden fairy dust. “You’re gorgeous, smart, savvy, driven as hell. I know you don’t need to hear me say it to know I’ve had it bad for you for years. Besides, don’t act like this doesn’t intrigue you.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “I’ve heard your stories. I know you like to exercise control in more places than just this office, and you’d havefullcontrol in this situation.”

“Don’t act like you know me,” she shot back immediately, but again, I saw the sparkle in her eyes, the curl of her lips she was fighting. “Also, that little bit about you having it bad for me makes me want to say no. Feelings like that make arrangements like this messy.”

Holy shit.

Is she actually considering this?

I tried to tamp down the quickening of my heart, keeping my face level as I shrugged. “I said I like you, not that I’m delusional.I know you’re not into me.” That admission made my gut sour, but I ignored it and pressed on. “That doesn’t change the fact that I know you’re the perfect person to help me. And I think we’re good enough friends that I can ask that of you.”

She softened again at that, making it hard for me not to float away on that pesky cloud of hope.

“What’s in it for me?” she asked after a moment.

“Besides the fact that you get to boss me around and make me do whatever you want in the bedroom?”

She flattened her lips, arched a brow, and waited.

Okay… so clearly that isn’t enough.

“What do you want?”

“A million dollars.”

I laughed heartily, but then coughed and choked a little when I realized she was serious.

“You’re kidding,” I tried.

“Not even a little bit.”

I blinked at her.

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting her to ask for in return, but it wasn’t that. Livia seemed perfectly fine on her own financially. She co-owned a boutique dental practice that serviced high-profile clients and offered cosmetic procedures. I was fairly certain I’d never seen the woman wear anything that wasn’t designer, save for her white coat, and she drove a Jaguar F-Type Coupe that made our car-crazy friend, Jaxson, nearly lose his mind the first time she pulled up in it.

“Listen, I make good money,” she said, reading my mind and blank stare, no doubt. “I do veneers for half the celebrities in Tampa. But at this point, all of my best friends are married to, or seriously dating, a multi-millionaire. And then there’s Mia, who will probably hit a billion soon on her own. And judge me if you want to, but I’m a bad bitch just like the rest of them. I deserveto jet set around the world, dress myself in diamonds, and buy myself a bougie ass car on a man’s dime just because.”