Her teeth pull at her lower lip. “Jack, earlier . . . I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed a little off when you came in and when we sat down to read. You did amazing. Your voice is beautiful—” She stops. “What was it? Are you that unhappy about being here? About being around me?”

Ah, she noticed. People rarely do. All they see is this face and talent and just assume I’m comfortable in my own skin. “I’m doing this for Timmy—and it looks good for my image. Lawrence insisted, and he isn’t wrong. I need to push myself more. I didn’t have to agree to play Romeo—especially when it’s hard for me to be around people I don’t know very well. But I did.”

A dawning expression crosses her face. “You really are shy.”

I grimace. “Told you I was. Most people just assume I’m rude.”

“You are not rude! You were so nice to everyone here.”

“I am a nice person.”

“Right. But you play football in front of millions. You boss around football players and tell them what to do. Is that hard for you?”

I smile, seeing that she’s inched in a little closer. Curious girl.

“But when I’m out on the field, I’m the warrior.”

“But here, will you be able to do the play?”

I think back to the read through we did. “I was a little nervous, meeting new people, getting adjusted. Everyone here is down to earth, and no one is throwing a microphone in my face. Plus, you’re here. It helps. Keeps my mind on other things.” I don’t even realize it’s true until I say it.

Her head cocks. Another step closer. “So what you’re saying is . . . you’re kind of socially awkward.”

“Yeah.”

Her mouth opens. “But you’re so . . .” Her voice trails off.

“What?”

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

I laugh.

“Is this why you don’t give interviews?”

I nod. “I’ve never been able to relax with them.” I pause, feeling uneasy for a moment before brushing it off. “Not many people know that, Elena.”

She takes my words in, her emotions easy to read on her face—mainly confusion.

“But you don’t seem to have a hard time with women. Apparently, they flock to you.”

“I’ve never had to work for it.”

She glares at me. “Arrogant!”

I smirk. “It’s the truth.”

“But why on earth would you agree to be Romeo?”

“Well, as it happens, this town kind of loves me. Plus, you’re here.” I let those words settle around us, watching the flush that starts at her neck and works its way up to her face. Does she have any clue how I wrestled with the idea of doing this play? Yet as soon as Laura mentioned Elena would probably be Juliet . . .

Her tongue dabs at her lower lip.

I rest against the locker. “Hmm, I think you want me to kiss you right now.”

Another step. Her chest rises.

“This feels like high school, and we’re having a tiny tiff. I’m ready for the makeup part,” I say, pulling her hair out of her ponytail, sighing when it falls around the curves of her face. “Take your glasses off, Elena.”

She tucks them in her purse. Takes another step closer. “You’re bossy. I don’t know how any woman has ever put up with you.”

“I don’t either. I don’t deserve a nice girl. Keep talking.” Because with every word, she’s almost in my arms.

She tilts her chin up, her scent sweet and soft and floral, and I suck in a breath at the full force of her, the way my heart twinges, shifting around in my chest.

“And I do not want to kiss you. It comes with a price. My dignity. I have a vibrator at home, all charged and ready to go—”

“Fuck that. You will not use a vibrator. Not when I’m right here,” I growl. “Do you think about me when you use it?”

“No.” Her color rises.

I chuckle. “How do you imagine it, Elena? You underneath me, pliant and willing, begging for more?”

“No!”

“Me behind you. That’s it. You love that. That sound you make when I slide all the way inside. Been thinking about that a lot. Feels like a year ago when I had you.”

“Stop talking dirty.”

“I think it’s you under my tongue, Elena. That’s what I think about, the taste of you. You came like that in the kitchen with me on my knees. Did you like that? Me worshipping you?”

She breathes heavily. “Pfft. I barely remember it.”

I count the white rays in her irises, the way they make her eyes shine.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“You should stop.”

“Make me,” I grunt as she takes that final step, her sweatshirt pressed against me.

“I will, Jack. Don’t test me.”

“Elena, you can’t get me out of your head.”

“Someone needs to teach you a lesson in humility.”

“Please do.”

She touches my chest, and I groan. “Fuck, Elena. Kiss me. Because I’m dying here. I’m barely able to stand up—thank God for lockers—and all it took was your fucking wrist to get me hard—”

She stands on her tiptoes and takes my mouth, and I rumble out my victory, my hands landing on her ass like they were made for that spot, picking her up and switching us around until she’s against the lockers. Her legs curl around my hips, her lips pressed against mine, her tongue battling mine without reserve, all fire and heat. Her hands knead my shoulders, digging and caressing, pulling, tugging, wanting.

“All it took was your stupid forearms in Milano’s,” she mutters in between kissing.

“Good goddamn thing you sat down,” I mutter back, sucking on her neck.

“Good thing c-l-i-t-s are your specialty.”

“Elena,” I breathe. “So many tricks up my sleeve . . .” My lips trail along her cheek. “I want to show them all to you.”

I kiss her again, deeply, paying attention to the fullness of her upper lip, nipping at it, loving that sweet spot near her ear that makes her shiver.

“What are we doing?” she breathes.

“Making out.” I shove a hand in her hair, holding her head to the side, slanting my lips across her for a hard kiss, sucking on her tongue in a decadent, rhythmic way, like I’m fucking her.

“I’m not signing that stupid NDA,” she says.

“I haven’t brought it up.” I kiss her again, my hips swiveling into her pelvis. She arches closer, her hands pulling on my shoulders.

“Are you wet for me, baby?” I murmur, my hand easing between us, brushing against her apex.

“Damn you.”

I laugh, rubbing my thumb across her leggings, rotating against her mound.

She shudders, her hands in my hair now, tugging me closer for another kiss.

Voices and people walking out of the gym reach my ears, and I press my forehead against her. “We’re out in the hall for anyone to see. Not a good idea.”

She wiggles out of my arms, chest rising rapidly, and takes my hand. “Come on. I know every room in this place.”

She takes off, dashing down the hall, and I jog after her. I don’t know what I’m doing, because I swore to myself I’d leave her alone, that I’d stick to her decision, but . . .

She stops at the door on the right, letting out a gleeful sound when it’s unlocked. She pulls me inside a darkened room, the only light the glow from the moon coming in from a window. I take in a big desk and a wall of mirrors with a long bar along the middle.

“Ballet room?” I ask as she turns to face me, hair everywhere where my hands were. Her mouth is swollen, red, and lush.

Fuck, fuck, fuck . . . what is she doing to me?

“Yep, but we aren’t dancing. Welcome to my second-grade classroom. Take off your clothes, Jack. Let’s make this quick.”

Heat pierces me, sweet and excruciating at the need in her voice. With Sophia, sex was never like this. Consuming and fast, as in I-can’t-wait-to-have-you kind of feeling. Football kept most of my attention; I never thought about Sophia unless she was right in front of me. Elena . . . I can’t get her out of my mind . . .

“This will not be quick,” I say.

She pulls her sweatshirt over her head, her red lace bra making me groan. She toes her shoes off and shoves them out of the way. Leggings disappear until I see the tiny red thong, the contrast of the color against her pale skin intoxicating.

I groan, my gaze all over her. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not thinking clearly, and I don’t want to. And you being Romeo is driving me crazy! Maybe this is the only way to work you out of my system.”

I frown, not liking that statement. But her wariness is my fault. Since the moment I walked in, we’ve been sparring, and I know it’s my distrust that makes her scared.

She said she’s team boyfriend.

And I am not a boyfriend. Not like she needs. I just . . . can’t go there. My mother loved Harvey, and look what it got her. I thought I cared about Sophia and— “Snap out of it, and stop staring at me. We have to hurry,” she says, dashing to the door and checking the lock. She moves swiftly, uninhibited in her near nakedness, her curves lush and creamy.

I sweep paper, pencils, and books off the desk in one movement, my body in full-on let’s-do-this mode. So what if I’m in public? So what if she hasn’t signed the NDA? Take this and run with it—and right now. I don’t care about anything but getting inside her.

And if she wants to work me out of her system, sign me up.

“You’re still dressed, Jack. Fix it.” She approaches me, her nipples beading under that lace.

I whip off my shirt, unzip my pants, and shove them off, fighting with my black sneakers. I kick them across the room.