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His hands frame my face, snow melting where his palms touch my skin.

"Audrey, I have listened to you melt with pleasure exactly once. And you know what?" He forces my eyes to his. "I still haven't recovered. I still hear it. You are not the problem. You were never the problem. You were wasted on a man with no imagination and a dead—"

"Prove it."

His eyes darken. "What?"

The embarrassment is gone, and what's left underneath is pure want that's finally finding her voice again.

"Prove how much you want me." I step into him, tip my chin up and cling to his chest. "I have a new command. First one to beg loses."

Miles looks at my mouth like it's the last meal of his life.

"You tell me you want me more than he did," I say, my heart pounding. "Then show me. Show me he was an idiot."

"Sweetheart," he says, pulling me toward the edge of the clearing and back over to the old packing shed. "You just made a terrible mistake."

The room above the packing shed is small and warm, a little iron stove glowing orange in the corner beside a narrow bed with a quilt his mother definitely made.

Miles kicks the door shut and reaches for me, but I plant a hand on his chest.

"My rules, remember?"

He swallows as I strip his shirt off over his head, which requires his cooperation because he's built like the barn downstairs.

I take a moment to appreciate his muscular chest, his flat stomach, and the bruises from today's game. Then I open his belt, drag his jeans and boxers down, and Miles Stratton's cock springs free, thick and hard and already flushed at the tip.

I wrap my hand around it and watch his composure crack in real time.

"Audrey—"

"Careful." I stroke him slowly, root to tip, feeling him pulse against my palm. "That sounded dangerously close to begging."

His hands fist at his sides.

I sink to my knees on the quilt on the floor, and his whole body goes hard.

"You don't have to—"

"Miles." I look up the entire length of him, my hand still working his length slowly. "I like sucking cock. Brett didn't like receiving it, which should have been my first warning sign, honestly. So I've had years of wanting to do this and nobody worth doing it to." I press a kiss to the head of him and feel him twitch against my lips. "You're worth doing it to."

"Christ." His voice comes out wrecked. "You're sure?"

I answer by taking him into my mouth.

The groan that tears out of him vibrates through the whole shed.

He's heavy on my tongue, hot and thick, and I take him deeper, slowly moving my mouth, feeling his thighs shake with the effort of standing still.

His hand finds my hair, holding my hair back as his hips start to rock.

"Fuck—Audrey—your mouth—" His head drops back. "That's it, sweetheart. Just like that. You control it. God, you look—fuck—"

I hollow my cheeks around the tip and suck, taking him deeper until he nudges the back of my throat.

"Fuck."

The sound Miles makes is not a sound professional athletes are supposed to make. It's broken. Desperate. Sexy.