Page 33 of Not a Perfect Save

He eyes my plate. I’ve been picking at my food.

“Hannah’s wedding is stressing me out. I’m so freaking far behind.”

“Can I do anything to help?” He says it so casually, I blink, not entirely sure I heard him right.

“Are you for real?” What guy offers to help his fling with anything to do with weddings? Hell, I’d run screaming in the other direction if it wasn’t for the threat of death from my sister and mother.

Connor shrugs. “Sure.”

For a second, I am tempted. But I need to hold firm. Hanging out with my family, especially at major, well-documented events does not fall within the parameters of our arrangement.

I’m about to say no, tell him we need to call it a night, that I need to get back to work when an idea comes to me, so diabolical that I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. I obviously don’t do a good enough job because he eyes me warily.

“You know how you could help? Come as the stripper. I’m supposed to help her friends with the bachelorette party. You’d be great entertainment for all the ex-sorority girls. Besides, Hannah is dying to see you in the flesh.” I wink. “Hank wouldn’t mind it either.”

Connor’s head jerks and strangled sound of outrage leaves him—it is all I can do not to burst out laughing.

I fail.

He shakes his head, muttering, “Clearly, you are deranged.”

“Clearly,” I respond cheekily, even though the thought of him taking his clothes off gets me all hot and bothered every single time.

His incredulous look twists into something wicked. He strokes his bottom lip with his thumb, then tugs me over and plants his big hands on my butt. A suggestive bump and grind accompany an exaggerated leer. “I have a better idea. What if I just strip for you? I’m happy to do private performances.” His voice is husky, sending tingles down my spine. I have no willpower, and he knows it.

He lets me go, only long enough to whip off his shirt and I stare. My mouth waters.

“A little stress relief wouldn’t go amiss, I suppose,” I say.

“Well, then I might as well make myself useful.”

Chapter Twenty

ELLA

Tonight,I make myself breakfast for dinner—bacon and eggs—which of course reminds me of Connor. His team has an away game, and even though he still can’t play, he is traveling with them and won’t be back until the weekend. We don’t really have a reason to talk. But it’s another rainy evening and I’m… lonely. More and more, I need to remind myself that I need to live in the moment. Tamp down that sliver of wistfulness that sometimes steals over me.

Maybe I can doze in front of the TV? I browse through Netflix, looking for something to distract me.

An hour later, I can’t remember a single show I tried. Instead, I’ve been watching reruns in my head of the last time Connor and I had sex. I flush at the memory of him behind me, taking his time, driving me crazy. Because that is exactly what I am. Crazy. Crazy horny. And clearly under some kind of some telepathic hypnosis because somehow, I am reaching for my phone.Phone sex is allowed in a fling, isn’t it?

Muting the TV with one hand, I pull up my contacts list with the other. He gave me a stern look and ordered me to save him in again, this time under Connor Hall - D-N-D—though in this case, the letters stand for Do Not Delete.

Connor answers on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I can’t sleep.” Nothing needs to be wrong. I shake my head at his protectiveness, though it is a little sweet.

A beat sounds between us. Then I hear a husky, “Neither can I.”

There’s a pause as he waits for me to continue. Something in the background. For a second I worry that he’s out.

“Are you busy?” I ask.

“No. Just watching TV.”

“The same. What are you watching?”Starting off with polite conversation, good.

“ESPN. You?”

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