Chapter Two #2
But perhaps what intrigued me most of all was his confession that he was a virgin.
That was an experience I hadn’t had since I was in high school, when I didn’t know anything either, and the boy who’d chosen to lose his v-card to me had been a fumbling mess. The whole ordeal had lasted all of four seconds, and he’d been the only one to leave satisfied.
Then again, I was used to sex being a disappointment back then.
That was before I flipped the script, before I took control over my body and my pleasure and never let it go again. I’d learned a lot since then.
Now, I would get to share it with Carter.
To anyone who didn’t know me well, anyone who watched my interactions with Carter on the outside, they’d likely think I was a mega bitch. They’d think I was mean and nasty, that I hated the man.
But it wasn’t anything like that.
I adored Carter — in the way I adored all of my friends. It was wild, how life had landed me in this group of hockey players and bad ass women they called significant others, but they’d become my family.
They were my only family.
I loved each of them fiercely, and I knew them well — which was why I liked to fuck with Carter. He was like a labrador slobbering at my feet and begging for pets, and I knew after the first few jokes we’d shared that he liked when I sassed him. His eyes lit up every time. His lips always curved.
It was our own little game — him throwing every corny pickup line in the book at me without shame, me pretending to be annoyed when we both knew I found it entertaining.
This agreement, of course, would complicate that friendship a bit, but Carter assured me he understood what we were and what we were not, what we never would be.
I had to take him at his word for that, and part of me was nervous, but the other part trusted that he was getting what he wanted out of this deal, and he wouldn’t press his luck.
He said he knew I wasn’t into him, and while I hated that he wrote himself off so quickly, he was right.
But it wasn’t just him.
It was any man.
I didn’t trust any of them enough to do much more than tie them up in bed and make them beg for mercy, and at thirty-two years old, I didn’t see that changing.
A knock at my door had me setting down my wine glass on the kitchen island before I crossed my expansive living area to the foyer.
It was January in Tampa, which meant it was just cool enough to have the gas fireplace going.
It gave my condo a rich, alluring, and somewhat cozy vibe — the flames dancing in the stone frame, the cityscape serving as moving art, the beat-heavy sound of trip hop ticking up my anticipation.
Once again, I found comfort in the click of my heels against the hard floor before I swung the door open to reveal my victim.
I had to admit, I expected him to show up in his usual attire — some sort of athletic wear, whether it be joggers and a hoodie, or basketball shorts and a long-sleeve Dri-FIT tee. Instead, Carter surprised me by arriving to my condo like he was arriving to the arena before a game.
He wore a tailored navy suit with a subtle checkered pattern that only revealed itself under the light.
The crisp white dress shirt beneath was open at the collar, no tie in sight, sleeves pushed up just enough to show the ink on his forearms. His dark hair was freshly styled, and the sharp lines of his neatly trimmed box beard framed his jaw perfectly.
The edges were lined, precise enough to make it clear he’d shaved for the occasion — but not enough to dull the rugged edge that would fool the unsuspecting viewer into thinking he was a bad boy instead of an absolute teddy bear.
He looked every bit the professional athlete in business mode — sharp, commanding, and sexy.
I wouldn’t admit that to him, though.
Instead, I offered a slight arch of my brow as I opened my door to let him inside. “Dolce and Gabbana?” I mused.
“You said this was a business meeting,” he reminded me.
“Color me surprised that you listened.”
“Oh, I’m an excellent listener. Especially when I’m trying to impress my new teacher. Some might call me Teacher’s Pet, even.”
He punctuated the flirtation with a wink. I answered with a performative bored blink and a sweep of my hand toward the glass dining table, where two crisp stacks of paper waited — each topped with a black pen.
But instead of heading straight over, Carter slid his hands into his pockets and took in the view of my condo. I noted the silver ring on his pinky just before his hands disappeared from view, and something about that man confidently wearing jewelry had my intrigue spiking.
His gaze swept the space with idle curiosity until it caught on the diamond and pearl necklace displayed beside the fireplace — draped elegantly over a slender black velvet bust. His eyes widened.
“Whoa,” he said, gesturing to the glittering piece. “That looks pricey. Are you a jewelry collector or something?”
“Crafter.”
His brows shot up. “Wait… you made that?”
I nodded, folding my hands behind my back as I came to stand beside him.
“It’s one of my favorite pieces. Usually, I make them and donate to charity auctions or gift them to friends.
But that one…” I smiled, stepping forward to run my fingers lightly over the gemstones. “I just couldn’t part with it.”
“Saving it for a special occasion?”
Something sharp and unwelcome flared in my chest at the question — because though I’d never admit it, a small, stubborn part of me still dreamed of wearing that necklace on my wedding day.
As if I could ever trust a man enough to pick the right restaurant for dinner, let alone put a ring on my finger.
I buried the thought and the ache it brought, sliding my mask of indifference neatly back into place.
“Certainly, something more special than teaching a boy how to play,” I said, arching a brow at him with the tease.
Carter clutched his chest like I’d shot an arrow through it. “I’m twenty-six. Doesn’t that qualify me as a man?”
“Not if you’ve never sucked a clit.”
“You wound me,” he groaned, staggering back a step for dramatic flair. But then he slid his hands into his pockets again, shrugging. “But you’re not wrong. We are here for a reason, aren’t we?”
“Speaking of which.” I gestured toward the table again.
I refilled my wine and poured a glass for Carter, placing each beside its corresponding contract. He watched me with an amused smile before unfastening the button of his suit jacket and finally taking his seat.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” I asked.
“Please.”
I had to fight against a smirk when I read the eagerness in that word, in his body language as Carter leaned toward the contracts with eyes wide and hopeful.
Sometimes he made me feel like a kid again, like the carefree girl I had been before innocence was ripped from me like a rug from beneath my feet. The way he so easily smiled and laughed, the way he could take a joke from anyone, no matter how cruel, and still bounce around so happy and nonchalant…
I envied that.
I loved that some of it rubbed off on me.
And I sometimes wondered if there was more to this man than the joyous ball of sunshine he presented to the world.
Carter reached for the first stack of papers, brow furrowing as he flipped through them. I took my time settling into my seat across from him, crossing my legs and sipping from my glass as I watched his eyes flick over the contents.
“That one’s the business contract,” I said smoothly. “It’s a legitimate consulting agreement between you and LY Performance Coaching, LLC.”
Carter blinked at me. “You have an LLC?”
“I do now.” I smiled around the rim of my glass, nodding to the inked paper in his hands.
“You’re paying me two-million dollars over the next three months, split into four, clean wire transfers, each with a lovely little invoice to match.
In exchange, I provide one-on-one performance enhancement coaching, mentorship, and confidence training. ”
“So, it’s legal, then.”
“As a marriage. Or should I say divorce, since I’m taking your money?” I swirled my wine with a teasing grin at that.
“Won’t Uncle Sam take his cut, then?”
I shrugged. “Of course. But that’s fine. There will still be plenty enough for me to jet off to the Exumas.”
And to freeze my eggs, parent a child solo, set my kid up with private childcare and schooling for life, make sure we never have to want for anything…
Carter’s smile climbed as he flipped through the pages. “It says here that early termination results in forfeiture — unless it’s initiated by you.”
“Correct. That means I can walk away at any time, for any reason, and still keep the full payment. But if you’re the one who ends it? You don’t get a refund.”
“That doesn’t seem fair, Doctor Young.”
“I never said I play fair, Rookie.”
He frowned at that. “Hey, I’m not a rookie. This is my fourth season.”
“And your first playing completely in the National League and not in the minors, if I’m not mistaken?”
His jaw clamped shut at that. “If we’re going by the league’s standards, I’m not a rookie. I’ve played more than twenty-five games at the national level.”
“Well, technicalities aside, you are a rookie in the bedroom. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here, would we?”
“Why do I like when you talk down to me like that?”
“Oh, honey,” I said, leaning forward with a salacious grin. “This is nothing. Let’s get through these contracts and you’ll see just how degrading I can be — and just how much you’ll love it.”
I knew without testing the theory that his cock was hard now. I saw it in the way his breath shallowed, in the way his pupils dilated, in the bob of his Adam’s apple. It was confirmation of what I’d suspected after all these years of teasing him.
He liked a little abasement.
He was excited to play.
But we had business to settle, first.