“Commando,” she breathes, looking at my hard cock.

I fist myself, giving my arousal a pump, watching her eyes widen, her hands twitching at her side.

“Me. You. Desk.” I hold her hot gaze, afraid if we stop looking at each other, this tenuous bond might break.

Her chest rises as she takes me in, her breasts straining against the lace of her bra.

“Come to me, Elena.” I’m panting at just the sight of her, already thinking of how I want to fuck her. And then again. And again.

She reaches the desk and drops to her knees.

“Elena,” I groan. “I want you on that desk, bent over.”

“And I want you in my mouth. We haven’t done that.”

Her hands wrap around my length and stroke. I hiss when she takes me in her mouth, her tongue sliding down, then back up, her lips puckering around my head.

“Am I doing it like you like it?” she murmurs.

“You are.” I don’t recognize my voice. Torn. Ragged. It’s not that I was celibate for a year, but the fact that her lips are on me. I’ve been sucked off many times—in clubs, hotel rooms, locker rooms—but not one of them compares to her plump, sassy mouth on me.

I stumble back, my ass landing on the desk, my hands wrapped in her hair, guiding her down as far as she’ll let me. I let out a string of curses when I feel the back of her throat, my head lowering, the muscles in my legs tightening as the urge to come zips over me.

“Elena! I’m going to . . .” I groan, reaching for control.

Her eyes find mine. “Don’t ruin this for me. This is my first time. Say some of your lines.”

I focus on Romeo, managing to sputter out a few. They make no sense. Some of them are her lines.

“That’s terrible. Use more emotion, like you did when Romeo and Juliet kiss.”

I close my eyes, remembering how she gazed at me during the read through. “Thinking about kissing you just makes it worse.”

“Well, then think about football or whatever.”

“Impossible,” I gasp out, watching as she unclasps her bra and takes me again in her mouth, firm, perfect tits against my legs. I reach down to brush my thumb over her rosy nipple, her breasts cushioning me as she takes long drags.

“Elena, shit . . .”

Her big eyes stare up at me, her lips tight around me, and it’s a submissive thing, that she’s on her knees, but underneath I wonder if she knows that it isn’t submissive at all. She’s got all the fucking power with me, and I don’t think she even knows how much I want her. I clench the edge of the desk. I needed this. Her. Especially after the anxiety from earlier. This, her, soothes everything inside me.

She slides me between her breasts, slick and warm, as I pump between her cleavage. Her head dips, and she takes me inside her warm mouth and hums against me, and I . . . I . . .

“In my mouth,” she murmurs, like she’s said this a thousand times, but my librarian has never said those words to a man, and it makes me shudder, my chest heaving, watching her suck me deep. Mine. Territorial alpha claws to the surface, and I come with a roar, eyes on her face, searching, imprinting this moment in my head.

Breathing heavily, she swallows all of me, her tongue laving my dick.

I look at her magnificence for as long as I can until I collapse back on the desk, panting, body shuddering.

“Pants. Condom. Get it.”

I hear satisfaction in her voice as she stands. “You’ll need a minute. I think I did very well. A-plus for me.”

“I am not an old man yet. Get the condom, woman. My legs aren’t working.”

She laughs, shuffling sounds reaching me as she goes through my jeans.

I’m dizzy when I rise up. She tears at it with her teeth as she walks over to me.

She glances down at my arousal and laughs. “How can you be ready again?”

“It’s you. And don’t laugh. He’s sensitive. He might get soft.”

She laughs again, doubling over, and I chuckle, watching her, feeling comfortable and easy. Maybe this is what incredible sex is, when two people crave each other—and not just their bodies but their personalities.

“What’s taking so long?” I ask, sitting up more. “You’re wasting precious time.”

She holds the condom package up to her face, squinting. “Crap!”

“Amateur. Give it to me.”

She dashes over to her purse on the floor and slides on her glasses, her face horrified as she glares down at the wrapper. “Jack! I ripped it! There’s a tiny hole in it. Do you have another one?”

“That one’s been in my wallet forever.” I stand, weaving a little, my legs still like jelly. “Do you have any at your house?”

She shakes her head. “No, tossed them a while back. Expired.”

I rake my hands through my hair. “Is there a store here in town where I can buy them?” I’m going to die if I don’t have her again.

Her eyes flare. “You can’t just waltz in the Piggly Wiggly at nine at night and pick up a box of Trojan Magnums! Everyone knows your face. What if the cashier takes a pic?” She pauses. “How do you buy condoms?”

“Amazon. Fake name.”

We study each other, eyes searching.

“I have plenty back at the penthouse.”

“Of course you do.”

I study the planes of her face, trying to read what she’s thinking, but her hair hides her face.

She walks over to her bra and puts it back on. Next come her shirt and leggings.

Chucks are next.

Dammit! Why did I bring up the penthouse?

She picks up her purse and pushes up her glasses.

I grab my shirt and slide it on. I grab my pants and put them on. “Fine. I’m going to the Piggly Wiggly, and then we’re going to your place. Don’t they have those self-checkout things?”

She huffs out a laugh. “Have you ever used one?”

“No, but it can’t be too hard.”

“It can be a surprising pain in the ass. Self-check or not, everyone in town will know by tomorrow.”

“I’ll wear a hat. I have one in the car.”

“Won’t work. Your hotness is world known, apparently, by everyone but me.”

We stand there for a few seconds, and it feels as if I should say something here.

Invite her to your real home, Jack.

But I can’t.

I want to, I do, but how can I trust what I’m really feeling right now?

I don’t even know what this is!

She watches my face, and I know what she sees—me retreating. Fortifying my castle walls. Digging a moat around it.

She inches closer to the door, her hands behind her back, probably on the doorknob.

With fumbling fingers, I button my pants. “Elena, don’t go.”

Why am I always saying that?

There’s a long silence, the only sound our breathing in the quiet room.

“Elena, I didn’t plan on this. I just wanted to . . . kiss you, and then I don’t know. Let’s go somewhere else.”

A smile crosses her face, tinged with regret and wry acceptance. “I know exactly what this was. It was you walking in this gym, and me wanting you, and you wanting me. Just two people without commitments. Isn’t that what you want, Jack?”

I close my eyes briefly. “Yes.”

A long silence wraps around us as we stare at each other.

“That’s what I thought.” Her eyes drop to the floor, then rise up to meet mine. “See you at the next rehearsal.” She scans the room, her gaze everywhere except on me. “Do you mind putting the desk back together?”

And then she’s gone, opening the door and walking away from me.

I don’t try to stop her.

Chapter 21

JACK

“The MRI isn’t great. You need surgery, Jack. It’s either that, or you’re going to take a hit on that shoulder, and the damage to your tendons might be irreparable.” Dr. Williams gives me a sympathetic glance, his hand holding my thick folder of records. He’s the best orthopedic in the state, well known for treating superstar athletes, from tennis players to baseball greats.

I came in last week for some x-rays and the MRI. Since the episode at the church, I’ve had another spasm that hit me while I was working out at the stadium. I was lifting when it hit, nearly making me pass out with the pain. Thank God Aiden wasn’t in the gym that day.

I exhale. “It isn’t even a football injury.”

He nods, taking a seat behind his desk and considering me. “Right. It’s an old wound, but the way you use your body isn’t like the average person. If you didn’t play football, you might never have had any issues, but as it stands, your tendons are being pulled away from your bone. I can reattach them, no problem.”

“Thank God.”

“Don’t get too excited. Have you had a particularly hard fall lately?”

I grimace, recalling the defender who yanked my face mask and slammed me down during the Super Bowl. The five interceptions that followed. “Super Bowl.”

He nods. “I’m assuming you still want to keep playing?”

I feel dizzy and grip the edges of my chair. “Hell yes. I still have good years left, Doc. I’m twenty-eight!”