UCLA was ahead by twelve points with a half still left to go. I needed them to beat Baylor University by at least fifteen to cover the spread, or I would lose the ten grand I’d wagered on this game.
March Madness—my favorite time of the year.
The boys and I always spent at least a week of the tournament in Vegas, where we planted our asses in the sportsbook, only leaving to eat dinner and go to the club, each day the same until it was time to fly home.
What would make day two even better was if UCLA pulled out a win.
And I knew the guys agreed—we’d all taken the same bet, wagering different amounts—some of us more vocal than others each time Baylor scored.
Ford was the loudest, slurring, “Fuuuck,” after the most recent dunk. He got up from his seat, pointing at the wall of TVs. “This game is making me fucking crazy.” He looked at me and then at Dominick. His head moved in slow motion, his knees almost buckling. His first mistake had been drinking on an empty stomach this morning. “I’m hitting the head. Need anything?”
Unlike my younger brother, I was pacing myself after waking up with an unbearable headache from last night’s shenanigans.
“You all right there, buddy?” I asked. “Do you need someone to hold your hand on the way to the restroom?”
He flipped me off. “Asshole.” When his arm dropped, he had to grip the back of the chair, so he wouldn’t collapse. “Jesus, I’ve turned into a lightweight. What the hell happened to my tolerance?”
I laughed. “Everly happened.” I set my empty beer in the bucket and grabbed a fresh one. “Don’t worry; by the end of the week, we’ll have you right back to where you need to be.”
“But it’s going to be painful as hell to get there,” Dominick added. “Tomorrow will be even uglier than today.”
“Fuck me,” Ford groaned, carefully taking a step back but almost tripping. “Need anything? Last offer.”
“I’m good,” I answered.
“Dude, we have a waitress,” Dominick reminded him. “She’ll get us anything we need, but I’m thinking we should ask her to get you some food.”
“Good idea,” I agreed.
“Hot fucking mess,” Dominick joked the moment Ford stumbled to the restroom.
“I really hope you’re not talking about Miami,” a girl replied to Dominick. From the corner of my eye, I watched as she took Ford’s seat. “I can’t afford for them to be a hot fucking mess.”
A breeze of her perfume found its way to my face.
With hints of cinnamon and pumpkin, she smelled like fall.
“Oh good, they’re up by fifteen,” she added. “You’re definitely not talking about Miami, then.”
She turned toward me, and I almost spilled my beer.
Fucking hell.
There was gorgeous—celebrities, models, social media stars.
And then there was her.
She had long black hair that seemed to never end. A petite, trim, well-taken-care-of body. Pouty, thick lips with a breathtaking smile and these screaming blue eyes that wouldn’t let you look away.
A kind of beauty that made my mouth part, but nothing came out of it.
“So, who’s the mess?” she asked me. “Or more importantly, who’d you take?” She grinned as she waited for my response, the glossiness of her lips taunting me. When I still said nothing, she continued, “I’ve got five hundred on Miami. I took the moneyline, parlayed the bet with the over.” She pretended to fan herself. “I’m trying not to sweat it out, but it would be a serious travesty if I lost.”
She knew gambling and basketball.
Goddamn it, that was sexy.
All I wanted was to keep her talking, so I could continue gazing at her mouth—the way it almost pulsed as she inhaled, how her tongue licked the corner of her lip, how they widened to take in the straw, sucking the plastic as she took a drink.
My dick was so fucking hard.
“I think you’ve got yourself a safe bet,” I told her, suddenly finding my voice.
Her eyes dropped down my chest before she glanced at the wall of TV screens, her profile just as beautiful. A small, sloped nose, a stunning jawline, a collarbone that jutted out, begging me to lick across it.
I needed her attention on me again, so I asked, “Why Miami?”
“I live there.” She tapped her heart. “I could never bet against them.”
“Fair enough.”
“And I go there, so I’m slightly proud.”
A college student.
Twenty-two—maybe.
If my guess was correct, I was eleven years older than her.
At eleven, I had already been telling my teachers I wanted to get into law. Even prior to middle school, I had known I was going to follow in my parents’ footsteps and take over their firm the moment they retired. A role I would share with Ford and Dominick.
But this one—this fucking beauty—wasn’t even out of the womb.
“Who did you take?” She lifted her palm in the air—the perfect size to wrap around my cock. “Don’t tell me. I want to guess.” Her lids narrowed, scanning my face. “UCLA?”
I took a quick drink. “How did you know that?”
“I’m a good guesser.” She glanced down at her lap, a look of worry etched into those fascinating eyes. “Did I take someone’s seat?”
“Why? Do you want to get up?”
Her head leaned back, exposing her throat as she laughed. “I suppose no. It is pretty comfy here.”
Ford could sit on the goddamn floor at this point—I didn’t care. There was no way I was having this girl move unless it was to my lap.
Before she glanced back toward the screens, I said, “You came all the way from Miami, huh?”
“It’s March Madness.” She moved her hair to one side, the black curls hanging past her shoulder, covering her tit. “Vegas sounded like a good place to watch it.”
“My boys and I do this every year.” I nodded toward Dominick, who was on the other side of her, and then pointed at the friends behind us—Brett, Jack, and Max, entertainment agents who hired our firm for a majority of their deals. “It’s our tradition.”
She turned, taking in their faces. “So, these guys belong to you?”
I laughed. “I’m not sure if I should answer that.”
“What about the one who almost ran into me on the way to the restroom? Does he belong to you too?” She tucked a leg beneath her ass—a part of her I was dying to fucking see. “If so, you need to get that boy some bread and coffee, stat.”
“He’s my younger brother. We cut him some slack because he’s a single dad.” I held out my hand, wanting to feel the softness of her skin. “I’m Jenner.”
To my surprise, her grip was stronger than I’d expected, her skin even silkier than I’d anticipated.
“Jo.” Her stare dipped again, this time to my mouth, lingering there for several seconds before it rose. “It’s nice to meet you, Jenner.” She sucked in her bottom lip, chewing it.
“And you … Jo.”
Her hand stayed in mine much longer than it needed to. “Did you hear about Miami’s shooting guard?”
“What happened?”
“Ankle injury. He kept it quiet, not wanting to start any rumors before the tournament. If he had sat out this game”—she shook her head—“oh man, that would have been brutal.”
“You wouldn’t be winning right now.”
She bit the end of her straw, holding it in her mouth as she said, “Oh, we would still be winning. Don’t you remember the Florida State game?” She paused, waiting for my brain to catch up. “Our shooting guard was out with the flu, and we still won seventy-one to sixty-five.”
Most of the women I was with couldn’t have this conversation. They didn’t care about sports, they weren’t loyal to any particular team, and they certainly couldn’t recall any game statistics.
But, damn it, this was hot.
“How could I forget that game?” I said. “The guard for Florida State had one of his best games, and they still couldn’t beat you guys.”
“Their guard is soft.”
I took a long drink of my beer, watching her the whole time. “Yeah? How so?”
“He sat out half the season with a broken toe.” She rolled her eyes. “Our guards could climb Everest on crutches. Nothing would stop them.”
“Except the flu.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned. “He was in the hospital with a hundred and five temperature and ended up with a nasty case of pancreatitis on top of having kidney stones. Stop being so tough on him. That boy’s hardly a pussy.”
She had a fight in her.
I liked that.
“Are you as knowledgeable with football?”
Her teeth tugged on her lip as she smiled. “Quiz me.”
I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than ask her some irrelevant questions.
I wanted to carry her up to my room and fuck every sports fact out of her brain.
“How about—”
The vibration of my phone cut me off.
I held up my finger, pausing our conversation, and quickly pulled my cell out of my pocket, seeing a text from Dominick on the screen.
Dominick: I’m betting 5K you fuck her in the next ten minutes. You want the over or under?
I looked around Jo to glance at Dominick, laughing before I typed my reply.
Me: Over.
Dominick: I thought you were better than that. I’m disappointed in you, brother.
Me: I just want to spend a little more time looking at her.
Dominick: You’ll be doing plenty of that when she’s naked on your bed.
Me: You’ve never heard of savoring?
Dominick: LOL. We both know that’s not your style.
It had never been my style; he was right.
But, fuck me, this girl was worth it.
She wasn’t parading around the sportsbook in a bikini top and leather shorts, like the waitresses in this section. Jo didn’t have to. Fully clothed in her cutoffs and oversize sweatshirt that exposed her shoulder and hot-pink bra strap, she was still a hell of a lot sexier than them. But there was so much more to her than just a delicious body. She had confidence that was more alluring than I’d ever seen along with wit, charm, charisma.
“No need to quiz you,” I said, waiting for her eyes to return to me. “Besides, I have a feeling you can hold your own with football.” I just noticed the tiny freckles under her eyes, and they were fucking adorable. “But I am curious how you knew I went with UCLA.”
She tucked her other leg under her ass. “Jenner, you have LA written all over you.”
Quick and smart.
Damn it, I couldn’t get enough of this girl.
“The East Coaster knows the LA vibe. Interesting.”
She smiled. “Do I have Miami written all over me?”
Flip-flops had covered her feet prior to her tucking her legs beneath her, the new position showing more of her lean, muscular thighs. The black hair and blue eyes were exotic, but they hinted at nothing.
“Aside from your tan, no.”
“I’m just a giant mystery to you …” She finished her drink and set it on the table. “Tell me, Jenner, what do you do for a living?”
“You don’t want to guess?”
She laughed, adjusting her top, the shift now showing more of her bra. “Is that what you want?”
I exhaled, taking in the whole view. “There’s something I want far more than you guessing my job.” I downed the rest of my beer, not bothering to grab a new one. “I’m a lawyer.”
A flash of red moved across her cheeks before she said, “Professional haircut”—her eyes were on my head and then lowered—“trimmed beard, a neck that could easily hold a tie.” She circled the air with her finger, as though she were adding up each detail. “I can visualize it.”
And what I could visualize was taking off that sweatshirt with my goddamn teeth, instantly sucking one of her nipples into my mouth, gnawing on the end. I’d position her on her back, leaning her up on her elbows so she could spread her legs around me.
“You’re picturing the tie around my neck … or somewhere else?”
Even her laugh was smooth. “Jenner, you certainly know how to make a girl blush.” She gripped her hair, like she needed to hold on to something. “But if you want an honest answer, your neck isn’t the only place I can envision a tie. I see many knots in a variety of places—some more interesting than others.”
My dick fucking throbbed in my jeans.
“Your wrists?” I paused, analyzing her expression. “Or maybe you wouldn’t want to give up your sense of touch?”
Her stare dipped to my chest, lowering to my waist, a heat moving through me as she slowly lifted. “It would be a shame to lose my ability to touch, especially if there was something in front of me—or even on top of me—that was worth feeling.”
“Jo …” I shook my head, folding my hands behind my neck. “You’re taking my brain to some naughty fucking places right now.”
“Oh yeah?” She cocked her head to the side. “Where’s my brain?”
While I stared, I tried to decipher her thoughts.
“It’s okay, Jenner. You can say it. You won’t scare me away.” She reached inside my bucket and took out a cold beer, twisting off the top and drinking down several gulps. “Maybe we should bet something—like this is what’ll happen if you’re right or this is what’ll happen if you’re wrong.”
“As long as a win earns me your lips, I’m down.”
“Which lips?”
Fuck me.
This girl had a fire that was roaring as loud as mine.
Each breath, each glance, each swipe of her tongue made it grow.
I used my head to nod toward her face. “I’d start with those.” I took the beer from her hand, bringing it up to my mouth to take a sip. “If they tasted as good as I expect them to, then I’d go lower. Much lower … until I found the others.”
Her eyes answered me before she said, “I’ll take that bet.”
I set the beer down, my dick rubbing against my zipper. “Why wait?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying … if I kissed you right now, would you stop me?”