Page 15 of Match Point

I never thought I would have another chance at him. And thanks to a few drinks, and my low tolerance for alcohol, this time I wasn’t going to miss my shot.

“Does your room have a minibar?” I asked. “Because I’d rather have one ofthosedrinks.”

I cringed as soon as I said it. How could I blurt out something socheesy?He was going to laugh in my face. I would be too embarrassed to talk to him for another fourteen years.

But instead, he smiled. “I think it does.”

We were making out as soon as we got into the back seat of the taxi, bodies connecting and hands exploring. I didn’t even care that the driver could see us. I felt the chiseled muscle underneath his tuxedo, like steel that was plated with gold, and his lips were warm and hungry.

He kisses just like how I remember, I thought as the taxi pulled up to the hotel.And somehow even better.

Dominic took me by the hand and we ran inside, giggling as the hotel staff watched us in confusion. There was another couple in the elevator with us, one of whom looked like a low-ranked male tennis player whose name escaped me, so we had to put a stop to our fun. But as soon as the elevator stopped on their floor and they got out, Dominic pushed me up against the wall and kissed me harder than before, pressing his body between my legs.

I barely remembered leaving the elevator and stumbling down the hall to his room—I was too focused on the wonderful way his lips churned against mine. There was a beep, and a click, and then we were out of the hall and into his enormous suite.

“I have a confession,” he suddenly said.

I gazed up into his green eyes, terrified of what he might say.

“I don’t actually have a minibar in my room,” he said. “I have a full kitchen, but there’s no alcohol.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “I have a confession, too.” I leaned in until our faces almost touched. “The minibar was just an excuse to come up to your room.”

He gasped softly. “You would do that? Lie to a man just to get up to his hotel room?”

I gave him a slow, wet kiss on his chin. “Like you’ve never done the same.”

“I can honestly say,” he said with deadly seriousness, “that I have never lied to a man to get him up to my hotel room.”

I squinted at him. “You know what I meant.”

“I’ve never lied to a woman, either.”

“Except you did exactly that to me by claiming you had a minibar.”

“Are you upset about it?” he asked.

“No.” I smiled. “Not even a little bit.”

Our mouths locked together automatically, and this time his tongue flicked out. I parted my lips and accepted it eagerly, moaning softly in my throat as he led us over to the bed. We fell onto it, bouncing softly but never breaking our connection.

This feels so good.For the past decade, I had spent a large amount of time trying to avoid making mistakes. Mistakes on the court, in public, and in my private life. Now that I was retired, I didn’t have to be so cautious. I could think with other parts of my body other than my brain.

But old habits die hard, and I found myself pulling away from him. He gave me a confused look.

“I usually don’t do this,” I explained. “I typically like to get to know a guy first.”

“We do know each other,” Dominic said. “We go way back.”

“We shared a kiss fourteen years ago,” I argued. “That’s hardly the same asknowingeach other, aside from what’s public knowledge.”

“Okay,” he said, eyes twinkling with humor. “If it’ll make you feel better, we can play a game.”

I perked up. “What kind of game?”

He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingertips up my thigh, right to the hem of my dress. “We take turns making guesses about each other. Something that’snotpublic knowledge. If we get it right, the other person takes off an article of clothing.”

I scooched over to the edge of the bed next to him. “LikeGuess Who, but with stripping? Count me in.”

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