Page 227 of The Fake Date Agreement

“It felt ridiculous at first.” Reid hops on the counter, catching the bottle of water that Javier throws him. His chest also glistens with sweat from their workout, and it is equally distracting.

“And then?” I ask.

“I have never taken so many cold showers in the space of a week in my entire life,” he ruefully admits.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?” I ask.

Caleb puts his bottle down and leans against the counter, arms crossed and eyes half hooded as he studies me.

I’d think he was being distant and aloof, but he’s not even trying to hide the erection growing in his pants. “Like all good plays, we stick to our strengths.”

“Right.” I nod like I know the first thing about hockey plays.

“Javier is good at introducing you to the new, to getting you to try something you wouldn’t ordinarily do,” Caleb continues in a low, husky voice. “For instance, the way he pinned you to the wall at the fair and fucked your ass within feet of the attendants.”

I put the notebook down before I drop it and lean against the counter before I fall. “So, you, uh, talked about that?”

“In detail,” Caleb says.

I clear my throat.

“And Caleb shared with us how he had you splayed out on Coach’s table where anyone could have walked right in and seen you,” Reid says.

When leaning isn’t enough, I sit at the dining table, pressing my thighs together to stem the growing ache. “Right.”

Javier puts his half-drained water bottle down. “Reid explained to us that desperate sound you made when he spent… how long was it again, Reid?”

“I lost track of time,” Reid says with a smile.

“Easy to do,” Javier continues. “He explained to us all those sounds you made when he had his face buried between your thighs.”

“And you spent a week on this plan?” My voice is so breathless I can barely breathe.

Javier nods. “It’s important we arethoroughabout what we intend to do to you.”

Oh my God.

“That you have all of our undivided attention,” Caleb adds.

“For an hour?” I whisper, recalling Reid’s timer.

Reid smiles and shakes his head. “Oh, there won’t be a timer, and it will not be an hour.”

I’m breathing hard, and the sweat sliding down the back of my neck has absolutely nothing to do with the fact we’re in Mexico, and it’s a hundred degrees outside.

It has everything to do with the three hockey players eyeing me like I’m the last melting ice cube in their drink during a heatwave.

“So, the plan?” I clear my throat.

“Is to play to our strengths,” Caleb says, straightening.

My heart leaps in response. Shit. It’s going to happen right now. Right here. Are they going to splay me out on this table? Will it be all at once?

Should I take my panties off now or wait for one of them to do it?

What the hell is this plan, and why does it feel like I might die if I don’t know it right this second?

Caleb turns to walk out.

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