“Damn right I am.”
“You want another shot?”
She shook her head and the world spun a little more than it should have. “No, I think I’ve had enough.”
Teddy smiled widely, the dimple that routinely tortured her appearing in his cheek. “No such thing.”
Jasmine leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her nose trailed over his neck, inhaling deeply. He smelled good, really good, like spices and ocean water and soap and Teddy, her best friend. It was nice to be that close to him. She should do it more often.
Vaguely, from the TV across the room, echoed thethwackof the ball against racket faces, a final desperate scream from Lutrova, and then an answering joyful shriek from Penny.Jasmine knew that sound—she’d been on the wrong side of it more than once. The crowd moved from a heavy anticipatory silence to a raucous cheer as the announcer shouted over them, “Game, set, and match, Harrison.”
“Teddy,” she whispered against his skin.
A grunt rumbled through Teddy’s throat. “Yeah, Jas?” he asked, his mouth suddenly really close to hers, close enough to feel his breath against her lips. She answered by leaning forward ever so slightly until there was no space between them at all. The kiss was heavy and deep. She could feel it in her fingertips, in her toes, and in a lot of other less innocent places, and then he was gone, flinging himself to the opposite end of the couch, staring at her, mouth agape.
For a moment the only sounds in the room were their breathing and the announcer screaming over the crowd. “Penny Harrison has won the Madrid Open and American tennis has found its newest star!”
“Jas,” Teddy started, but she shook her head. “Shit, Jas, I’m…”
“Forget it,” she mumbled, leaping to her feet, her shin brushing against the table, sending the now-empty bottle of Jack over on its side. She stumbled to the doorway and broke into a run. She heard Teddy call her back over the buzzing in her ears, but she didn’t turn around. She just kept going.
Game, set, match.
PENNY WAS BURNING FROM THE INSIDE OUT.
That was the only explanation she could conjure at the sensation of pure fire coursing through her veins. She reveled in every flame as she arched up off the cool slip of silk sheets, the firm grip of his palm at her hip, calloused thumb gently circling the rise of it as his other fingers left imprints that would bruise in the next few days down her thigh.
His mouth at her breast, the scratch of his stubble on her skin, his hips driving into hers, then the nip of his teeth against the sensitive line of her neck. His body long and firm above her, thick and heavy inside her. Strokes dragging, deep and deliberate, to hit the spot he found that made stars explode behind her eyes. She rose to meet him over and over, rocking into a punishing rhythm of their sweat-soaked skin and his raspy groans and filthy words and a note, high and desperate, from the back of her throat, that pulled her soulfrom her body while she shook beneath him and he talked her through it.
That’s right, love, take me with you. You’re so fucking perfect. Finish me off.
Her only answer was a jumbled mess of incoherence and distantly she heard his voice catch on one final word before his arms gave out and he fell into his own release, collapsing down into her, his weight a satisfying, crushing thing.
Penny.
And then… consciousness.
A beam of sunlight shining through her window warmed her cheek and she pressed her nose into the cotton sheets, not silk, and inhaled. The fresh, clean scent of the laundry detergent that her mother used—not sweat and sex and a hint of warm spiced cologne that led to so many bad decisions—was a reminder that, for the first time in four months, she was home.
That was a dream.
Just a dream.
But a vivid one, like she was back there, back withhim.
“Penny!” Her brother Jack’s call carried up the stairs and into her bedroom, a repeat of the sound that pulled her from her sleep and a very different voice that said it. “Delivery for you!”
Groaning, she rolled out of bed, banishing the last fleeting images of burning blue eyes and the sound of his voice when he called her name.
That dream had turned into a nightmare in real life, and she no longer had time for it. She had work to do.
When she got downstairs, both her brothers were in thekitchen. Jack, five years older than her, who pulled double duty as her big brother and her agent, was digging through the fridge. Her twin, Teddy, was sitting atop the central island, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Beside him was a long white box wrapped with a bright blue ribbon.
“You want some?” Teddy asked, his mouth full of the sugary crap he called breakfast, but honestly she was just impressed he was up this early. Normally you wouldn’t see him out of bed before noon on summer break.
“No thanks.”
Penny pulled the ribbon free of its bow and folded it neatly, setting it aside. She lifted the lid to reveal a dozen long-stem roses. There was a note tucked inside the sea of petals.
