“I’ve upset you.” Perhaps my story hit too close to home. “We can talk about something else. The weather. Sports. Anything.”
“I don’t really follow sports much.”
Conversation wasn’t normally my strong suit, but I grasped for the first thing that came to mind. Anything to keep him with me. “Are you from New York? I’ve only recently moved here.” He nodded, and relieved that he seemed to have abandoned the idea of leaving, I pushed on. “So you probably know all the best restaurants that aren’t on the must-lists that change every week.”
Laughing, he took another drink of his beer. “Yeah, that’s pretty silly, isn’t it? I like to go to the ones that aren’t trendy and crowded. Nothing’s worse than being squashed into a table, elbow to elbow with strangers, while you’re trying to have a conversation with someone, and instead of hearing them talk, you hear the person at the next table chewing.” He shuddered, and I laughed.
“Oh God, that’s my worst nightmare.”
“And if they talk with their mouth full…”
Dancing eyes met mine, and something strange shifted inside me. Fuck it, I was so attracted to him. I wished…I wished we could rip off these damn masks and go find one of those out-of-the-way places and be ourselves. I knew it would be breaking the rules, but I was nothing if not a risk-taker, and sometimes a rule was made to be bent. Or broken.
“Can I ask you something?”
Instantly his guard went up, those walls slamming down. “Sure.”
“Would you ever consider…maybe getting together outside of here?”
He frowned. “That’s against the club’s rules.”
I nibbled on my lip. “Maybe, maybe not. It says we’re not allowed to take off our masks while we’re here, and we’re not allowed to divulge personal information—while on the premises.” In a bold move, I took his hand. He shivered, and I wondered if he’d ever been hurt and that was why he was so reluctant to get closer. In my years of experience at these clubs, I’d never met a man so jumpy. “It can’t control us once we leave. I just want to be alone with you for a little while. Nothing more. I promise.”
“I can’t.” And I heard the agony in his voice. Frustration swelled inside me, knowing he wanted to but something prevented him. “We’re having a really nice time. Please don’t force me into something I can’t give you.”
My thumb played with his fingers, and he trembled. Knowing I affected him was a win for me. I couldn’t let the night end without knowing what he tasted like. His proximity enflamed my already burning desire, and I couldn’t help myself. I picked up his hand and kissed each knuckle. “I won’t. But before I go, can I ask you for one thing?”
Wary, he nodded. “If I can give it, sure.”
“A kiss?” Instant refusal sprang up in his eyes, and I rushed to squash it. “Please? Only a kiss.” His hand, still held in mine, trembled. “My lips on yours. Imagine it.” His eyes blew wide, and I teased my tongue over his fingertips. One by one. His breath grew short, then stuttered. “Please,” I whispered again. At his slow nod, my heart surged with the same adrenaline jolt as if I’d thrown a winning touchdown.
In our private corner, I leaned in and dipped my head. The moment my mouth hit his, I was lost. The way he’d been so nervous during our time together, I’d believed he’d be shy, timid, but the fierce, fiery push of his tongue past my lips drove that thought from my mind. My man was in full control, and damned if I didn’t fucking love it. I sucked his tongue, and then we traded places, his tangling with mine. The world reeled under my feet, and I held on to him for balance. This wasn’t a kiss. This was ownership, and I willingly gave myself up, body and soul. The memories of another kiss like this set me reeling. My first lover…first love…that same desire, the all-encompassing hunger to hold on to him and never let go.
Needing air, we finally parted and stared at each other, chests heaving. His eyes glowed, and I was sure my face was as flushed as his. I leaned in close, ran my nose down his cheek, and he swayed toward me.
“I have to go,” he murmured.
I wanted to clutch him tight and make him promise he’d see me another time, but like sand through my fingers, he slipped away and was out of the room before I could speak.
With my mystery man gone, nothing remained of interest, so I ducked out of the room and stepped into the private bathroom to remove my mask. A separate entrance led to the street, and I ducked my head as I left. The night air played around me, cool and fresh, and I walked for several blocks, enjoying it. Eventually I called for a car to take me to the hotel. I checked my messages and saw one from the real estate agent that they’d made a counteroffer on the condo. I texted him.
Accept it and get the deal done.
We drove past crowded streets and I wondered where my mystery man lived. Still itchy from the mask, I rubbed my face. Obsessing over someone whose name I didn’t know, whose onlyconnection to me was a sex club, was a story for the gossip column and proved I had way too much time on my hands. Sex could wait. It would always be there. Dev was right. It was time to concentrate on football and what I was getting paid to do.
Chapter Seven
Fallon
I didn’t like what I’d done. Pretending was never right no matter the reason, and kissing Patrick without him knowing who it was left me sad and angry.
The rest of the week I kept busy with arranging everything he’d need to move. I needed the distraction because there were too many times I’d catch myself staring at the wall, thinking of our kiss. The passion that had shimmered between us as he’d touched my face. Emotions I’d thought I’d buried a decade earlier burst free, and I ached not only from desire but with the loss of what we’d had. And what might’ve been.
Patrick had spent the week studying the playbook, talking on the phone with Dev, and watching training films. I might not know him well, but I could sense his nerves and tried to keep out of his way, only coming to him when absolutely necessary. He was polite but quick, with little time for joking.
He also stayed home and didn’t go to Intensity, which for some stupid reason made me happy. Trying to prove that I wasn’t hung up on Patrick, I went out to a club one night after work.
The space was small and the music loud. I vowed not to send out don’t-touch-me vibes and stood by the edge of the dance floor with a beer in my hand.
