“It’s an honor.” His voice isn’t sarcastic or teasing. It’s soft and genuine. “I’ll take the job.”

“Which one?” I’m glib to try to hide my excitement.

“The one to be your first.” His voice is low and sultry, with a hint of naughtiness. The sound of it makes my mind wander and my body flush.

“Okay,” is all I can make come out of my mouth.

“Good night, Elizabeth,” he coos into my ear and I melt into the couch cushions.

“Good night, Austin,” I say before I hear him hang up.

I spend the next few hours on the couch staring at the ceiling, remembering the sound of his laugh.

Chapter Three

Austin

My shoulder aches as I toss my gym bag onto the torn passenger seat of my beat-up truck. Hitting the gym this morning before practice really kicked my ass, but I needed to clear up the rest of my night for Elizabeth’s ‘business proposal.’ Meeting three nights a week means I’ll have to shift my workouts to balls-ass early. It’ll be painful, but on the bright side it means no more working nights. Plus, I get to keep my Fridays open.

I’m her tutor, not her boyfriend.

I stretch out each arm, enjoying the slight burn deep in my muscles, before I climb into the driver’s seat. I punch the address Elizabeth gave me into my phone and the GPS tells me it’s twenty minutes away. Fuck. I don’t have time to head back to the house and change. I haven’t showered yet. My cut-off tank top is soaked with sweat and my gym shorts are covered in grass stains, mud and a few small splotches of dried blood. Pretty sure it’s not mine.

Fuck it. A sex tutor is the sweetest job I’ve ever had, but still a job. Nothing special. I throw the truck into drive and head out.

The closer I get to Elizabeth’s place, the nicer the neighborhoods get. Most of the stuff around campus is pretty run-down. The dorms are all cheap mass construction to begin with and college kids aren’t known for being good tenants. The football house I share with a handful of teammates should be condemned. It’s got more bodily fluids on the floorboards than a hospital dumpster, but at least it’s free. Elizabeth doesn’t live in student housing. No, she lives in a brand-new high-rise apartment building. With valet parking. I opt to park on the street a few blocks over. Wouldn’t want to bring the property value down.

I spot the elevators across the marble floor lobby but only manage to make it halfway there before the doorman blocks my path. Yes, a doorman. Elizabeth’s apartment has valet parking and a doorman. I’m punching above my weight here. This dude takes one look at me, sweaty and dirty, before deciding I need to go.

“Can I help you, sir?” he asks, giving less than zero fucks about helping me.

“Nope,” I answer, stepping around him.