Page 112 of Promise Me Not

She smiles, but of course on our way across campus, Fernando spots us and jogs over.

“Hey, photo girl.”

“Hey.” She smiles.

“Think you could show me some sneak peeks?” He presses closer, and I push her back, glaring harder when he smiles my way.

“Not a chance.” She laughs. “I mean, if I want to get fired, sure…but I don’t.”

“Fine, fine,” he teases, reaching out and flicking her ponytail. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“You won’t,” I snap. “Go the fuck away.”

Payton blushes, but my teammate only laughs, winking before sauntering off like the shithead he is.

I heave a sigh, watching him with a glare. “He’s a jackass.”

We start walking again, and Payton laughs, shaking her head.

“He’s not so bad.” My eyes move her way, and she glances over. “If you think college athletes are bad, you have no idea. The egos only float higher at the next level.”

That’s right.

She’s an intern for hire at Embers Elite, the official photographer of the pros. She’s around men all day.

Older men.

Pro fucking players.

Before I know what I’m doing, my hand is pressed to her ribs, and I’ve spun us, backing her up against the wall of the child development building.

Her head presses softly to the old brick, and I’m on her.

Payton gasps, and my eyes slice to her lips, zoning in on the little part between them, and my tongue suddenly feels too heavy. It wants to slide out and slip between her lips. To taste her.

I need to taste her.

“Mase,” she whispers.

“I don’t like when other men look at you, and I hate when you look at them.” I lean down, lowering my forehead to hers. “I’m a man. A stupid, possessive one who wants you all to himself.”

Another gasp, this one deeper, rawer, and my eyes flick open as I realize what I just said.

I pull back, needing to know what her eyes are saying.

They’re wide and wanting, and once again, I’m locking on her pouty, pink lips. “Pretty Little,” I all but beg.

I lean in, and a door slams at our side, making her jump.

Her head whips away, and it feels like a sharp slap across my cheek.

Fuck.

I swallow, running my hand through my hair when she squeezes away from me.

I open the door for us, unable to meet her eyes fully. “Come on, Pretty Little. Let’s go get Little D.”

Unfortunately, Cameron has him all packed up when we get there. He’s already fast asleep in his carrier, a blanket softly laid over the top, so I don’t get to play with him on the short walk to her room, a small studio-like place in the staff quarters reserved for guest speakers and, well, photographers, I guess.

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