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Only photo my mind conjured was the one I’d snapped of her and Goldie coloring without them knowing. Second time today I’d added Graciella’s picture to my phone.

“Also, I’ve got some interview questions for you,” she said, cutting through my thoughts. Her pen checked off a box. “And we have to talk about your Draft speech this weekend.”

Ice slid down my spine. “What? Why?”

My attendance at the Draft wasn’t a surprise. My mom had planned her vacation around being back in time to keep Goldie for the weekend. But a fucking speech?

This was the first I’d heard about it.

Her head popped up. “Why?” she repeated, sounding confused. “Because we’re going to it. We leave on Thursday?”

I clutched the tumbler. “What do you mean we are going to the Draft?”

“You’d think that sentence would be simple enough for a man. We” — she motioned between us— “are going to the Draft. The thingy that happens every year where teams announce the players that they are selecting to join⁠—”

Smart-ass. “Yeah, I know what it is, but why are you going? And what are you talking about, a speech?”

She ignored me.

“Should I say it in Spanish?” She cocked her head to the side, looking condescending as hell and unbothered by my glare. “Tú eres un tonto,” she said, enunciating each word.

I might not know much Spanish, but I was positive she’d called me an idiot.

Why did I find it so hot when she was mean?

“Always with the attitude, Graciella.”

I pushed off the washer, closing the distance in two steps and caging her between my arms.

I was being dragged in two different directions. Ping-ponging between exploring whatever this knot of desire in my chest was and shoving it back behind its icy fortress. Marbled cooled my palms, but the heat swirling in those brown eyes as she looked at me through a fan of dark lashes…

Hot enough to melt.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble.” I ran my thumb along it, her tongue chasing it. I wasn’t sure she was aware she’d done it.

“Monroe.” My name was breathy on her lips, hooking me around the throat like a damned collar.

I cut the distance.

“Graciella?”

Her citrusy scent tempted me to close the last few inches between us. See if any of my flavor guesses were correct.

She dragged her eyes down my body and my cock twitched, wishing he could get some of her attention, too.

“You couldn’t handle the type of trouble my mouth is capable of getting into,” she said, voice low. Felt like a caress.

Fuck.

“Don’t assume to know what I can and can’t handle.” My words tumbled out, coated in suggestion.

At this point, I didn’t know where the fucking line in the sand was when it came to her. Or what we were doing.

What I was doing.

But I was out of control, unraveling at her feet without a clue how to stop it.

I shoved away the mess of thoughts, focused on the warmth under the tips of my fingers gliding along her cheek, on the little gasp that fell from her lips. On how silky smooth her inky hair was as I tucked it behind her ear.