Page 69 of Second Down Fake

“I need you,” I said through shuddered breath, already losing my grip on reality. I pressed both my palms against the cool window, leveraging against the glass to drive Diego deeper into me. Once. Twice. Three Times.

My body tensed as waves of pleasure washed over me. Diego thrust one last time, his arms tensing around me as my limbs turned limp and my mind went completely blank.

“Perfect,” he murmured into my hair. “So perfect.”

“Liar. But I like hearing it, anyway.”

He swept me up and placed me on the bed, my body exhausted and my mind in overdrive. Instead of a perfect post-coital nothingness, questions about what just happened clouded my mind. What about the contract? What about the rest of the season? What about us?

I beat back the thoughts.

“Noa and Lena are in the room next door, right?” I asked as my mind careened around the events that ended with me in bed with Diego.

Silence. I pushed up to face Diego, only temporarily distracted by his very chiseled, very shirtless torso. “Right? Because I haven’t heard anything from their room and now that I think about it, Lena put her suitcase in the living room before we left for the game.”

“Wow, that’s where your head is at?” Diego grinned.

“You tricked me.”

“You didn’t really give me an opportunity to correct you.” His fingertips skated along my bare back, eyes dropping down to my chest appreciatively. The edge of his lip pulled up into a grin that made my body sizzle and reminded me how screwed I was now that we’d slept together.

I settled back into his arms, setting my chin on his chest. “Fair point.”

“So, huge mistake?”

“What happens in Vegas, right?”

An imprint of a frown formed on his face before fading away. “Right.”

TWENTY-THREE

DIEGO

Three days after coming home from Las Vegas, my night with Cassandra felt like a fever dream. We’d woken up that morning for another round of mind-blowing sex and then boarded a plane where…everything carried on like before.

Cassandra held my hand for photographers. She gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek when we were spotted at dinner.

The rest of the time? Friends.

Just Friends.

Painfully friendly.

What happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas…for Cassandra, anyway.

Tonight, her head rested on my shoulder, her arm on my thigh as she trudged through a field on screen, looking for a chocobo. So friendly.

“If you’re getting bored, I can take off,” she said, not pulling her eyes from the screen.

“No, this is fine.”

Not fine. Cozy, sure. Frustrating, absolutely. But as an alternative to not having her at all, perfect.

I dipped my head, inhaling clove and cinnamon.

“Got one,” she said, straightening. The top of her head brushed past my chin. A fraction of an inch closer and I would have a bloody nose and an awkward explanation of what I’d been doing.

I leaned forward, pretending to be invested in the game and not in the woman holding the controller, scooting closer to her. She fought the bird until it nearly died before nabbing it with a triumphant cry. She lifted her arms as she turned and wrapped me in a hug.

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