Page 36 of Hat Trick

My hand lands on my thigh because I’m a glutton for punishment. I wish it were her hand. “How many cocktails did you have before you sent thattext?”

“One,” she whispers. “Liquid courage while I watched your game athome.”

One cocktail and the woman is bold enough to tell me that she wants to feel me between her legs sometime in the next half-century. I don’t know whether to laugh at her forwardness that’s so typicallyGwen, or to groan because I’m hundreds of miles away from even fulfilling thatfantasy.

In that moment, I make a decision. It’s as bold as her text, bolder still, but the ache in my balls and that breathy note in her voice isn’t doing me any favors. Harrison is gone for at least another few hours, definitely enough timeto. . .

“End the call,honey.”

“What?”

“I’m going to video chat you. End thecall.”

Her voice hits a high note. “Is that a goodidea?”

“It’s the best damn idea I’ve everhad.”

She ends thecall.

I shove my briefs down the length of my legs. With steady fingers, I tap an app on my phone and pull up Gwen’s contact info. My own hesitation spans mere seconds—is this the right move? Does sexting ruin everything I’ve been working toward withher?

In the next second, I realize that I don’tcare.

Not right now, when my hard-on is desperate for hertouch.

Not right now, when I’m dying to see her stroke the hot folds between herlegs.

I needthis.

I tap CALL and wait. And wait. And then the screen is a mash-up of muted colors and redhair.

Andskin.

Holy hell, she’s not wearing ashirt.

“That’s a greeting,” I rasp, thanking God when my voice doesn’t crack like a teenageboy’s.

“I”—the camera shifts upward to show her beautiful face—“I didn’t realize the angle I was holding thephone.”

Just like that, her wry tone eases my nerves. “Sure you didn’t.” Her red hair drapes over one shoulder, shielding all the good things from view. “Do you have amirror?”

Her lips part. “Yeah,why?”

Go big or gohome.

In more relevant terms, get naked or get off thephone.

I tap the little camera-reversal icon, waiting for the phone’srecalibration.

Her gasp coincides withallof me showing up on her screen. “Oh.”

Grinning, I say, “Yeah,oh. I want to see you, Gwen. I’ve been waiting for years to see you. I can’t say that I’m all too pleased that this is the way we’re gonna break down this barrier, but I’ll takeit.”

“Holdon.”

Her phone shimmies and shakes as she puts it down—on the bed, maybe? There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor, a graphic four-letter curse that makes me grin, and then I’m looking at her faceagain.

Then it’s not just herface.

---