Female variety. I want to roll my eyes. But he’s not saying anything new. “I love her.” He snorts again, and I give him a hard look. “You might as well hear it from me. I put a ring on her finger. We’re engaged to be engaged.”

Slowly Mackenzie lowers his glass and looks at me. His rough features are worn, pale. “Engaged to be engaged? What the hell does that mean?”

“Ivy’s words. The point is, I want to marry Ivy. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you insane? Kid, marriage is the last thing you need at this point in your career.”

I figure now is not the time to tell him Ivy’s pregnant. Plus, if we end up giving that news, it will be together. No way is Ivy wriggling out of it with a text.

“I know you think I’m like you,” I say in a low voice. “But I’m not.” And I really don’t give a shit that he’s now glaring murder at me. I continue without blinking. “Nothing on earth makes me happier than Ivy. And that includes football. So you can be pissed if you want, but I’m never going to be the one to walk out on Ivy.”

We sit locked in silence, the noise of the bar humming around us. Then Mackenzie sighs. “Well, then, if I was your agent, I’d advise that you keep your fiancée out of the spotlight as much as possible. I’d also advise that you play up your image as a family man, which will be difficult given your outer persona.”

“Outer persona?” I ask with a laugh.

“Shit.” He grimaces. “Don’t make me say it. Your looks, kid. Women go crazy over guys like you. They’ll view you as a sex symbol.” His mouth puckers like he’s sucked a lemon, and I laugh again.

“Fair enough,” I say. “And as my father-in-law?” I’m playing with fire, but I can’t help needling him.

His black brows pull together. “Ah, fuck, I’m stuck with your regardless, aren’t I?”

“’Fraid so, Big Mac.”

Grumbling, he throws back the rest of his whiskey. “Well, then, welcome to the family, kid.” In an unexpected move, he grabs hold of the back of my neck and gives it a friendly squeeze. At least, I hope it’s friendly.

Thirty

Gray

Shortly after I leave Mackenzie at the bar, Ivy texts me.

IvyMac: I’m here. Dex already sent your stuff up to my room, btw.

GrayG: Wait, DEX got to see you before I did? Foul! Personal foul!

IvyMac: *Eye roll* That just means we don’t have to leave the room when you get here, Cupcake.

GrayG: Keep talking…

IvyMac: I splurged on a suite.

GrayG: A suite? Babe, that’s too much.

IvyMac: It’s a treat.

GrayG: An expensive treat.

IvyMac: I collected wages when I worked with Mom. Now I want to spend them pampering my man.

GrayG: Pampering, eh? You’re forgiven for Dex. Now, where you at, Ivy Mac?

IvyMac: SO glad I’m forgiven. :-P 12th floor. Rm. 1210

GrayG: Spooky. My room number is 1184.

IvyMac: Erm… why is that spooky?

GrayG: 1184 and 1210 are amicable numbers :)

IvyMac: I love it when you talk nerd. So sexy.

Hitting the elevator button, I grin wide and tap out my next message.

GrayG: Almost there. Be naked.

IvyMac: Bossy.

GrayG: If you could start playing with yourself, get nice and wet for me, that’d be good too. ;-)

Snickering, I tuck my phone into my pocket without waiting for her reply. By the time the elevator coasts to the twelfth floor, my dick is already throbbing.

The door to suite 1210 is open a crack, and I smile, knowing Ivy left it that way for me. Heat and pounding need has my skin too tight for my body. I’m practically panting as I walk in, my heart thudding in time to my hard, quick steps.

Standing in the middle of the small living room is Ivy, wearing an oversized red T-shirt—and nothing else. I pause, take in the sight of her long, smooth legs, the way the shirt falls off one toned shoulder. White lettering across her breasts states, If you can’t handle my Tight End, you need a stronger D.

A coy little smile plays on her pretty pink lips, and her dark eyes shine beneath the heavy line of her glossy brown bangs.

She’s five feet from me, but I swear I can smell her scent, sugar and spice and everything nice. Lust hits me so hard, I actually shiver, my skin prickling, my knees weak. Something that sounds like a growl rumbles in my chest, and her eyes go wide, her lips parting.

I need those lips.

“Hey, there, Cupcake—”

My mouth is on hers, my hand cupping her neck, before she can finish. I kiss her like she’s my only sustenance, going deep, licking into her mouth for that first taste. Heaven. Home. Delicious. And she’s kissing me back as if she can’t get enough either. It makes me lose my mind.

My hands find her ass, and I haul her up, take two stumbling steps to the couch. Knees hitting the cushions, I maul her mouth as I fall on top of her, wrenching her shirt up to get at her sweet tits. She arches up, a little whimper escaping as I suck at one perfect nipple. Mac fists my shirt, pulling me up so she can attack my mouth again. I groan, my kiss so frantic our teeth clash. Her thighs spread wide as I tear at my jeans, my hands shaking so badly it takes two tries to get the button open.

My cock springs out, slaps against my belly. Fumbling, I cant my hips, find her slick heat, and thrust. Mindless, pushing into that hot, tight clasp. This time we both groan, our breath mingling. And then I’m pumping hard and deep. There’s just the sound of our flesh slapping together, the greedy, animalistic grunts I’m making, and the need for more and more. Fucking her is a heady mix of relief and agony. I’m frantic with wanting Ivy, and I know it will always be like this.