Page 10 of The Linebacker

“Can we eat at some point in there?”

She rolled her eyes, but it was clear she was teasing. “I suppose.”

She disappeared around the corner, and Lazlo immediately began twining between Amil’s ankles. He lifted the cat—couldn’t weigh more than ten pounds—and it climbed onto his shoulder, purring against his ear.

When Diana came back, he was standing in front of the living room windows, the cat still on his shoulder. He turned around and was pretty sure his jaw dropped to the ground for a minute.

She’d changed into a pair of painted-on jeans and an orange crop top that left a swath of brown abdomen exposed. He immediately visualized himself dropping to his knees and pressing kisses to that bit of skin before peeling those jeans off her to worship the slice of heaven he knew was hidden underneath.

He forced out a dry cough and closed his mouth. “You look, uh, great.”

“Thanks.” She grinned like she damn well knew what she did to his senses. “Ready?”

“Hell yeah.” Probably not for what she meant, though.

She strode up to him, and for a split second he thought she was about to kiss him, but instead she lifted the cat off his shoulder and placed it on the back of the couch.

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised the feline, and then she led Amil from her condo.

How the hell am I supposed to survive being around this stunning woman all the time?

Chapter

Four

That was a narrow escape.

If they’d stayed in Diana’s condo for fourteen more seconds, they would not have left for a very long time.

Probably morning, when they both had to report to the practice facility.

After they’d both been sated. More than once.

Hell, more than twice.

The way Amil looked at her when Diana walked out of her bedroom was the way every woman wanted a man to look at her. Not just a man but the man. Like Dante was to Allison. Pedro to Jillian. Royce to Morgan. Even the way goofy-ass Broderick was to Kate.

Like no one would ever be to Diana.

Which was her choice, so she should not be lamenting this.

But damn, that look had sizzled her skin. And other places that were still on fire. She could practically see the vision in his head, like he wanted to drop to his knees and worship her for as long as she could take it.

God, she wanted to take it.

No, no, no.

The only way she could maintain her one-night stand lifestyle was if she kept Amil at arm’s length. That man was the kind who changed a woman’s mind.

Diana could not change her mind. It would never work out. She had seven hundred ex-stepdaddies to prove it.

Hell, her mother was still chasing men like it was an Olympic sport, and she was in her sixties.

Diana would normally have no issue with that, except her mother did not believe in the one-night stand rule. The moment she slept with a man, she was convinced she was in love with him.

Newsflash: she never was. They had sex, she told him she loved him, they got married, one or the other lost interest.

Every. Single. Time.