He nodded toward the hallway, and a grin split my face as I jogged out, ready to wrap Giana in a sweaty hug whether she wanted one or not. I hadn’t seen her outside of us both working at the stadium since last week, me caught up in practice, and her with the upcoming auction.

And every minute since that night, her little whimpers of pleasure were about the only fucking thing I could think of.

It had been so much more than I expected, than I could have ever imagined, stripping her, touching her, tasting her. I knew she’d asked me to be her first, but I hadn’t realized that meant her first everything. The girl hadn’t even had an orgasm.

Until me.

It was fucking stupid how much that lit me up with pride, how much it made the beast inside me walk with a little more swagger in its step.

It was also fucking stupid how much I had thought about her since.

Every morning I woke up to a text from her — either a simple good morning or, more commonly, a random question about sex or how to turn a guy on.

We need to revisit the balls conversation. I want training on how to handle them.

Do guys like red lipstick, or is it just a messy inconvenience?

Tell the truth: do my skirts make me look cute or hot? Because I’m aiming for hot.

When’s our next lesson?

Of course, those questions turned into us texting all day, sneaking a minute together whenever we could at the stadium. And every chance I could, I was pulling her in for a kiss.

Even when Maliyah wasn’t around.

I told myself it was because it would make it all seem more real. It would convince Maliyah that I wasn’t just doing it for show. It’ll get back to her, I assured my whirring brain, it’ll really make her want you back.

Those words played on repeat.

That didn’t explain why I’d snuck a couple of Giana’s books out under my shirt when I’d popped by to bring her dinner in the middle of the week. She’d quickly kicked me out since she was studying for a test. But I took those books and did a little studying of my own.

I memorized what pages she’d dog-eared, or highlighted, which ones had the distinct oil from her fingertips being on them more frequently than others.

And what I found surprised me.

I was eager to test the theories I’d come up with the next time we were alone, and to tease her a little — which was quickly becoming my favorite pastime.

I slung into the hallway, ready to fire off some smartass remark about holding the press when I came face to face with Cory Vail.

My smile dissolved like salt in hot water.