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Her expression turned solemn. “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. Hard habit to break.”
“We might have to fix that.”
“Don’t ruin whatever this is by trying to fix me, Dylan. I’m not fixable.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she headed toward the entrance. It was easy to imagine her sitting at the head of a conference table with high-powered executives and famous sports figures, controlling meetings and directing negotiations. And it was equally as easy to imagine her stretched out beneath him in his bed, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he buried himself deep inside her, with a sheen of sweat on her flushed skin, her tight, rosy nipples brushing against his chest, and those sinful noises she made filling his ears. But there were so many more scenarios he wanted to envision that had nothing to do with work or sex. What music did she like? What did she look like when she was out on a real date? Eating dinner, watching a movie?
She might be Tiffany Winters, sports agent extraordinaire, but she was also his summer girl, and as he watched her disappear behind glass doors, longing filled the space between them, as real and present as the pavement on the street.
Chapter Eleven
TIFFANY HAD JUST climbed into bed when Dylan texted just after midnight to ask how her conference went. After exchanging several flirty texts, he’d finally called. It was wonderful to hear his gravelly voice.
“So,” he said with a seductive slant that made her insides go hot. “Did you get everything you wanted?”
She had a light, unfamiliar feeling inside her, and she realized she feltplayfulas she said, “No. You weren’t there.”
Dylan’s laugh was like music to her ears. He’d gotten to her over the past few days, snuck into her mind at the most unusual times, like when she was in her conference. She found herself comparing all the males in the room to Dylan. She usually never let her mind wander, except when she was in bed alone at night, when she created a veritable Dirty Dylan Playground. But while at work? It had been startling, and a bit frightening. Thoughts of Dylan had kept her revved up all night.
“I like the sound of that, Summers,” Dylan said. “Tell me more.”
She loved his dirty mind, and despite her fear of opening up, she played along. “What do you want to know? That every man I saw paled in comparison to you? Or that I kept picturing us doing dirty things on the conference table?”
“I had my own conference-table fantasy while you were there,” he admitted in a sexy voice.
“Do tell.” Her pulse quickened at the possibilities.
“Not until you tell me what you’re wearing.”
“A black silk camisole.” Already shamefully damp, she slipped off her matching black panties. “And nothing else.”
“Nopanties? Did I interrupt something?”
“Not yet.” She felt her cheeks flush. It was embarrassing how quickly even thoughts of him could make her ready for more. “What are you wearing?” Picturing his bare chest and those lickable abs, she moved her hand between her legs, feeling her slick heat.
“Black boxer briefs.”
“Take them off,” she said breathlessly.
“You dirty girl.”
She heard him shifting on the sheets.
“Tell me, Summers, do you have phone sex often?”
“Never have,” she admitted shakily. “But I’ve thought about it. You?”
“Not since I was fifteen, and I think it lasted about three seconds.” He exhaled, and she imagined him on his bed naked. “This feels unfair. You’re still wearing a silk top and I’m naked.”
“Let me remedy that. Hold on.” She set the phone down and took off her top. Her nerves were on fire, and for some reason, her brain decided now was a good time to remember that he was her colleague’s brother. “If you mention this to Mick, I will slaughter you.”
A deep, rumbly laugh filled the airwaves. “Do you really think I wantanyother man picturing you naked?”
“I don’t know. Some guys are into sharing.”
“Not. Me. And definitely not when it comes to you.”
“I feel like I should salute you with that very firm command.” She was surprised at how easy it was to open up to him over the phone.
