Page 26 of Perfect Praise

She has on a black golf dress with these straps crisscrossing along the span of her tan back, and when she leans down to fix something on her white tennis shoes, her already short dress reveals the tight little shorts attached underneath.

I lift one side of my lip up at her in pretend disgust. Well, half pretend disgust because I can’t hear her camera anymore, and it is nice. But I also want my face between those long legs.

“What is happening right now?”

“Mind your own damn business.” I glare back at Conrad. “What’s the slope on the green?”

He laughs. “I am. I just told you the slope, and you’re too busy flirting with the photographer you half-hate to hear me.”

“I don’t hate her, and her name is Maren. Tell me again.”

“You madeMarenstand over there. One and half percent-ish maybe. Not a ton.”

“I hate her camera,” I argue. “She needs a tripod and an automatic button and she can stand as close as she wants.”

Conrad smirks.

“You know what I mean. Is it going to spin back?”

“Yeah, probably some. It’s too windy, so keep it low. Did something happen between you two last night?”

“Fuck no,” I say, surveying my clubs. “What’re you thinking? A wedge?”

“Nah, the seven. Something happened,” he counters.

I consider his suggestion and slide the wedge out of my golf bag before I take a few practice swings.

I know deep down something shifted last night because I was this close to pushing her up against the side of my car, kissing her, and asking if she wanted to come back to my rental house. Conrad does not need to know that. Though I deserve a trophy for my self-control.

“You know how I get. How many yards are we out?”

“Hundred and fifteen, maybe. Locke, please do not fixate on sleeping with her,” he lectures me.

Too late, I think.

I want to find out if her inner thighs are softer than her arms. I want to see how much she will let go. I want to hear what she sounds like when she moans my name. I want to teach her how to explore every fantasy she doesn’t know she has. I want to fuck the name Russell out of her mind.

I want it so much that I need it.

Fixation is an understatement.

“Is this about Russell?” he asks.

“I don’t give a shit about Russell.”

“She does,” Conrad drawls.

She wouldn’t…

Conrad reads my mind before he taunts, “You’re going to fuck it out of her?”

“She shouldn’t,” I stress. “He’s been cheating on her since the beginning, and you and I both know it.”

“She’s too nice,” he says. “Which means you of all people should stay away. She will not be able to keep sex and feelings separate, and you kind of have to work with her.”

I ignore him, change out my wedge for the 7-iron, and swing the nicest hit. My ball lands on the green beautifully and rolls maybe eight yards from the hole. “Nice call on the seven,” I scowl. “Stay out of my head.”

“Gladly,” he laughs and looks up from his notebook. “Gorgeous shot.”

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