I curled my last bicep set with heavy breaths. Sweat tickled my forehead, and my shirt clung to my whole torso. Every morning, before sunrise, I was in this situation—beating my meat and dulling the rest of my frustrations in the hotel gym.

Daily boners put my teenage versions to shame. Last night, after our shopping trip backfired, I was hard again as soon as I'd shot myself empty.

Fucking only my hand for the past four years was maddening. Being in the prime of my life with willing partners, the problem was that the partner I wanted also wanted me but wasn't ready to act on it.

Inside the changing room, Paige's hesitation made every cell in my body scream, and my insides twisted. Her pulse was frenetic on my lips.

I was so in love with her that I couldn't think straight. Messaging her good night and morning wasn't enough. Her surprise wake-up call should arrive soon.

Hopping on the elliptical, I pumped faster, driving my body to fatigue while looking completely stupid. My arms and legs whooshed through the air like a rabid ostrich, but I pushed, faster and faster, sweating buckets until I couldn't breathe and my reflection in the wall mirrors blurred.

A hot shower washing off the sweat did nothing for the ache in my gut. Or my hard dick staring up at me. Grasping the head, I groaned as my mind went right back to last night.

Her. Me. Close enough I tasted her cherry lip balm just from her breath.

What was I doing? Fisting another erection that refused to go down, that's what. These showers were the one time I could fully let my guard down here. No cameras, no attention.

If Paige had let me in, I wouldn't have stopped. Kissing her, tasting her, pushing her against the wall so she knew how crazy she made me. Like a fucking animal, the obsession with sinking my teeth into her neck and burying myself inside her crawled under my skin, living in my blood as it pumped faster and faster.

There was a reason I didn't have flings—Yesterday, that reason had flashed every teasing inch of her skin before me. Creamy expanses far outnumbered her psoriasis patches, and the ones on her elbows, behind her ears, and her back looked like flat, pink skin marks.

But just because I saw almost nothing didn't mean she didn't feel anything, and my heart hurt at the idea she was still uncomfortable.

Chest pitching and hard nipples shadowing the lace, my girl fought against her own body's urges. With enjoyment sparkling in her eyes, the little tease knew what she was doing...Fuck, I'd have teased her until she squirmed with the same ache consuming me. Make her watch as I drove her crazy.

I came with a grunt, shooting a splatter of cum on the wall. The rest plopped between my feet. Washing it away and getting ready, the edge was off but so unsatisfying.

About now, she—yep, my phone dinged with an update.

Paige: You shouldn't have.

Instant grin. Her delivery was only the start. Although knowing her, she'd also thank me in person.

Me: Too late. Please tell me it's the right flowers.

Paige: It's the right flowers.

Me: Good. What's the problem?

Paige: The clothes! Thank you, but I can't accept all this. Where are the tags?

She was so sweet. Tasted sweet too. The selfish prick between my legs pulsed with renewal.

Me: Yes you can. No tags, no returns.

The lingerie store would've accepted returns with or without the tags except I'd paid extra for them to remove the tags and tell her no returns if she tried. Seeing her disappointedly rejecting a set that fit her perfectly because of the price, I'd bought it in every color before she'd left the changing room.

Every color plus an extra in the turquoise and two more in black because I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't rip those off her.

As much as I wanted to have breakfast together, preferably in bed, work took priority. Taking a private car was better than lurching off my seat on a shuttle that dropped us off an hour too early. I only did it to sit beside her and pretend every nudge and bump was accidental.

I messaged her I'd be at the studio later, answered some media interviews, and teased social media reactions. For starters, liking Cara's 'accidentally leaked' video of me brushing away Paige's hair. Funny how one click generated so much interest but I was working every advantage at my fingertips.

No news from Allie was good news, and I entered the studio kitchen smiling. Only the assistants were shuttled in, being greeted by loud yelps and barks.

"Here." A production assistant handed me a wrinkled bulldog puppy. "You get Bagel."

"Bagel?" I rubbed his head. What were we supposed to do with a dog in the kitchen? "As cute as you are, buddy, dog hair and food don't mix."

"Mix?" The assistant broke into loud laughs. "Baking? Mix? I'm noting that one."

I nodded at the puppy settling against my chest. "This'll make sense at some point, right?"

It'd better not be for me to adopt the little stinker. Cute but I'd be paying a dog walker to see him more than me.

While everyone else played with their puppies, I pulled Cara aside. "You'd better have an update."

"I do."

With her whispered confirmation, whoever made decisions around here had accepted Paige's conditions. With one arm hugging Bagel, I signed my agreement, and Cara confirmed my girl had too.

The effect on her was not at all what I expected.

After her interview, she entered the kitchen glowing. Smiling as if she'd won the competition, the best color of pink filled her cheeks and those electric eyes focused on me.

Maybe it was me sending a giant bouquet of stinky hydrangeas to her room.

Or, eight lingerie sets.

Or, Bagel wriggling faster the closer she approached.

The way she giggled when a wet lick slid over my jaw, it was definitely Bagel.

Her smile beamed almost as bright as the stage lights burning my corneas. The other contestants faded like parted curtains. Two braids hung down her back and exposed where I'd kissed her neck. Blue eye makeup and glossy lips—

Fuck, I wanted to kiss her. Right here. Badly, like an invasive itch that I couldn't reach. The urge grew worse the closer she approached, cooing and petting the puppy.

"Hey." The crack in her voice made my insides clench. "Thank you for the...umm, you know."

I almost said she could thank me with a hug, or even better a private viewing, but the damn dog was in the way. "You're welcome."

Taking Bagel, she leaned into my one-armed hug. No way was her blush fake, deepening the longer I took an appreciative look, thankful for every inch I'd grown since college giving me a teasing glimpse down her shirt.

Fucking hell, a scalloped black edge hugged her breasts.

Act on it already, woman.

"Bakers," Guilherme's voice sounded from a distance. "You might think that animals and baking don't mix..." The room groaned. "But we have some special guests from the Los Angeles County Animal Control. Bringing more awareness to their Paws for Cause event this weekend, every puppy here is up for adoption."

While our host outlined the quick challenge, dog-friendly cookies that looked like our puppy inspiration, I nudged Paige's foot. We needed to talk. Somewhere in public because if I thought any more about her lacy underwear, I'd probably combust.

"Later," she whispered.

Passing her, I let my hand linger on her hip. Giving a gentle squeeze felt right.

"And..." Guilherme's grin shifted into a grimace. "With two tough challenges, we've upped the stakes. Two teams will be eliminated today."

The news was received as well as it could be—not well. Silence took over and everyone looked like they'd been punched in the gut.

Paige made notes, scribbled sketches of Bagel, and returned him to a waiting volunteer. Moving with a relaxed edge, we made dog-friendly treats. Stirring the cookie batter, her neck and shoulders relaxed into a curve. All I could do was stand there and fail at ignoring how her skin felt against my mouth.

Patience wasn't me, but I could see her protective bubble shrinking. As much as I wanted to pop it, everything depended on her.

"Is it weird that he'll eat himself?" I asked while the mixer whirred up whatever dog-friendly frosting she'd made.

From the looks of our competitors' stations, we were the only ones using icing...using the word 'we' like I'd done much. Tipping her head, she gave me an amused smile. "Very."

Not surprisingly, her gluten-free recipes were easily modified for a dog. And, of course, the cookies were adorable and looked like him, wrinkled with a brown patch around his right eye and ear.

"Amazing." I palmed my hips and inspected the finished Bagels.

Her hand squeezed my forearm, dropping it when Cara and a camera approached. I stepped closer and let Paige plate the cookies.

"Tell us about your charity, Brody."

Detracting from the dog one was weird, but I gave its name and how it provided low-to-no-cost medications for people born with autoimmune conditions and research grants. I held back on revealing how involved I was and her inspiring it. Both secrets I'd held in for too long, but spilling it on TV before telling her wasn't right.

Being patient sucked. I locked my legs through the judges complimenting Paige's decorating skills, earning us second place behind Deb's subpar version.

On the shuttle, my leg bounced against hers. "Dinner?"

Her eyes drooped, remaining skeptical as I suggested tomorrow. "For the show." I shrugged. "A public appearance. Wear your new dress."

"For the show." Smiling, she didn't believe me for a second.

When the shuttle stopped, I unwedged myself from my seat and let her exit first. Alone in the elevator, I leaned over until my lips were at her ear. "The appearance is for the show. The dress, and whatever you wear under it, is for me."

Her sharp inhale as I kissed her heated cheek was everything, and an over-the-shoulder smile meant yes. The doors closed on her round, perky ass swaying with each step, leaving me alone and wishing I'd gotten off with her.

"Fuck." I dragged my hand down my face. "Not got off, got off."

Now I was thinking of getting her off. Replace the tiredness in her face with a better kind of tired. The kind that came when she did.

Image after image emerged, some from our past with me buried inside her, some as made up as me fucking her against the shower wall or her kneeling over me on the bed, and all of them with her eyes glowing with frustration.

Christ, I was not jerking off a third time today. Laps in the pool didn't cool my heated skin. The dinner ordered was tasteless. Reading through Rays' messages and off-season announcements didn't help. Nothing was on TV.

Me: I can't sleep.

Paige: Me neither.

Her answer was immediate. Maybe she was just as frustrated, but anything thinking about her—

Paige: We should've gone out. All I did was shower and stay in.

My mind flooded with the image. Her back arched as her arms raised, fingers undoing her braids and the pink hairs tumbling over her slender, kissable neck. The electricity in her eyes matched the jolts shooting down into my cock.

The feelings were so familiar, they'd become synonymous with her. I shouldn't have wanted this so badly, practicing the same patience as I'd done for years. But it'd been years, and she was so close—two floors under—I couldn't stop.

Me: Sounds unsatisfying

Paige: It is

My groan vibrated through my whole body. Was she teasing? Flirting? Tone was impossible here.

Me: You're killing me.

The reply dots appeared and disappeared. Finally sent, her message shot through me.

Paige: Sitting here, thinking about you, is killing ME.

"Fuck."

Her thinking about me was exactly what I wanted, but her possibly thinking dirty was almost too much. I leaned my head back, my dick hardening, and my balls tingling as I pictured her squirming with ache for me.

Paige: Why are you so nice to me?

Such a loaded question. Every cell in my body urged me to go downstairs, peel off every layer between us, and prove it one orgasm after another, but I wanted more than sex. More than a short-term release.

I wanted her. In my present and my future.

She'd rejected that future before, and I wasn't risking the same outcome because I'd moved too fast and scared her.

Paige: You should hate me.

Me: For needing space? Never.

Me: I'll tell you tomorrow. Try to get some sleep.

Her leaving me on read didn't bother me. I settled back and turned on the sports highlights. My brother played in Boston tonight, so I'd missed the game with the earlier start time, but the recap showed he was tearing up the pro football league.

In one highlight, he got smacked back on his ass during a sack. His post-game interview included a question I'd never have expected.

"So, your younger brother Brody is competing in America's Best Baker. Any chance we'll see you in the competitive kitchen?"

"No." Laughing, his sweat-soaked head tipped back and chest pads bounced. "Football is my only focus. It's for the best. My wife has all those skills in our family."

Skipping a bunch of 'Call your mother!! 😡' messages, even though my brother was probably asleep, I sent him a message tagging him getting flatlined.

Me: Best highlight ever.

My phone rang with his call, jolting me. "Hey," I answered. "Thought you'd be asleep."

"Should be." Logan's voice was low. "Hang on."

Rustling noises and his low grunts followed, then the sound of a door shutting.

"You sound old," I teased. "Your head okay?"

"Head's fine. I'd say everything else hurts, but...fuck it, everything hurts." He laughed, followed by a low groan. "Bruised ribs. Worth it for the tears they're crying in Boston tonight. Four and oh, I'll take the hits."

Such a cocky ass. "Sorry, I missed the game."

"You've got your own shit going on." His loud exhale buzzed static in my ear. "Ellie and Mom are addicted to these show leaks. You should see their group chat. Brody and Paige this, Brody and Paige that. Mom wants to choke you for not locking it down yet."

Locking it down. I should be more grateful I hadn't seen any reactions online. "I cut off her emoji overuse."

"Probably best." His laugh faded. "They're keeping quiet, but both are cheering for Paige's redemption. And yours."

"Thanks." Not that it helped, but the support was nice to hear.

"How's it going?"

How's it really going, not how it looked like it was, he meant. I sighed and dragged my hand through my hair. "I'm trying."

"Looks like you are. Every fucking person I know is asking if it's real or a setup. Personally, I think what you're doing is brilliant, but seriously, the sooner you tell her everything, the better."

"Easier said than done, but I will."

Our conversation ended with his game recap and more 'don't make the mistakes I did'-type words of encouragement about Paige.

Smiling, I settled back in my bed. In a few hours, I'd see her for the competition, after which we were going on a date.

A date where I was telling her everything.