‘I had them clear the floor. Private elevator. Agent Torres will meet you in the parking garage.’
‘You’re incredible.’
‘I’m impatient. Hurry up!’
I grin at my phone like an idiot.
‘Yes ma’am.’
Agent Torres meets me at the garage entrance, face as blank as ever.
“Coach Hendricks. Congratulations on the win.”
I grin, slap his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”
He nods, his face relaxing into a microscopic smile. “This way.”
He leads me to a service elevator. No cameras. No witnesses. Just him, me, and the weight of what’s about to happen. The elevator rises. My heart pounds. Torres presses the button for the top floor. The doors close.
“Torres.”
“Sir?”
“Thank you. For… all of this.”
His expression doesn’t change, but I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to, sir.”
I chuckle. Then the elevator dings, the doors open, and there she is. Lina’s standing at the end of the hallway, wearing a robe. A thin layer of ivory silk, loosely tied at the waist. And nothing else, from what I can tell…
Oh God.
My feet carry me to her without conscious thought. Torres disappeared somewhere behind me without me even noticing. All I can fucking see is her.
“Hi,” she says softly, smiling.
“Hi, sweetheart.” I’m smiling too.
We stare at each other.
“You won,” she whispers then bites her lower lip.
“We did.”
“World Cup Champion. How does it feel?”
I’m standing in front of her. Close enough to touch. Close enough to smell her perfume, see the flutter of her pulse at her throat.
“Ask me again tomorrow,” I say. “Tonight, I have other priorities.”
She lets out a short, breathy laugh.
“Do you now?”
“Mm-hmm.” I reach out, tracing a finger along her exposed collarbone. “I was promised a full night. No interruptions. Just us.”
She runs her hands over my chest. “Um, that does sound familiar.”
