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“Like that?” She breathes out, turning her head in my direction.

I shake myself and take a few steps back, out of her line of shot. “Yeah. Perfect. Now let it fly.”

280 yards.

I beam at her as she turns to me, a stunned look on her face. She didn’t anticipate hitting it so far, but I knew she had it in her.

“Oh my god,” she says, looking back at the screen. Her gaze returns to me and she points at the score. “Is that for real? Did you see…?” She bounces on her toes, excitement taking over for the shock. “Oh my god!”

I don’t expect it when she drops her club and tackles me in a full-body hug.

Her legs wrap around my waist, her face nestled into my neck. My arms immediately react to support her. One lands on the small of her back, the other on her left thigh. She squeezes me tight and I close my eyes, taking a deep inhale of her scent.

I can’t help but notice how soft she is as my fingers dig into her thigh. If only she were wearing those pretty little dresses that I saw her in earlier this week. Though on second thought, pants are a safe choice right about now. Especially as blood rushes to my dick and I adjust her in my arms so she can’t feel me hardening. Fuck.

My shifting position seems to alert her to the awkwardness of the moment, and she pulls away from my neck, not making eye contact. “Thank you,” she says, dropping the leg I’m not holding so it dangles toward the floor.

I sneak a glance at her red face as I allow her to slide gently down the rest of the way. There’s no way she didn’t feel my hard-on, given that her body sliding down mine made my dick stand even more at attention than it already was. “That was all you,” I say gruffly, angling away just in case somehow she missed the straining fabric at the front of my pants. “Why don’t we end on that high note?”

“You don’t want to finish the round?” she asks. I search her face for any disappointment, but she doesn’t seem to be mad at the prospect.

Is she as frazzled as I am about that hug? Does she realize how hard I am, even now that we’re not touching anymore?

“I think the day is catching up with me. Rematch tomorrow?” I ask, already walking to the simulator to turn it off.

“Yeah, it’s getting late,” she says, sounding out of breath.

A little smile pulls at my lips. So, she’s not completely unaffected.

“Good night, then,” I say, stealing one more glance at the girl who’s taking up all my brain space lately.

She presses the back of her hand to her cheek but quickly pulls it away when she catches me noticing. “Good night,” she echoes.

I don’t linger around the house, worried I might run into her again and not be able to pull away next time. Instead, I head straight to my bedroom, strip off all my clothes, and turn the shower water to the coldest setting.

I really need to get laid. It’s times like this I regret being a serial monogamist.

What am I going to do for the next few weeks—or even longer—with her around?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Hazel

I toss and turn, hugging the nearest pillow to my chest, then tossing it across the room in frustration. Why am I so worked up about that hug from last night?

Did he find it inappropriate? The way his fingers dug into my thigh said otherwise, but…

But what, Hazel?

I groan and get out of bed, stomping my way into the bathroom. I glare at myself in the mirror while I brush my teeth.

Did he like it? I can’t help the insecurities that rise up at the thought. Why would he like it? His ex-wife was a model with long legs, blue eyes, platinum blond hair, and a skinny waist.

I scowl at myself. Did I spend way too long last night searching her up on the Internet? I sure did. Not only do I feel like a stalker, but comparing myself to her is messing with my head. Nothing good can come of this.

“It’s just a crush, nothing but physical attraction,” I mumble, pointing at the reflection in the mirror. “Snap out of it.”

I breathe through my nose and lean over to spit out my toothpaste. The knock at my bedroom door startles me and I quickly rinse and rush over to it.