Dylan breaks into a laugh.

But Tim snaps to attention and hurries over to grab me by the arm.

"That's enough," he says. "Let's go."

Dylan stands up. "Tim, let her go," he says in a lethal tone before he turns back to Mike. "This interview's over, sir. Sorry to cut it short."

But I'm not finished. "Do you seriously think he's dumb as rocks just because he's a professional athlete?" I say to Mike. "You're the stupid one."

"I think that would be you, sweetheart." Mike gathers up his stuff and puts it safely away in his bag.

"What do you mean by that?" I say.

Dylan shakes his head at Mike. "You just made a big mistake. I might have let the things you said to me slide, but you don't talk to her that way. Tell your editor to expect a call later."

Shit. I messed this whole thing up. My stomach churns as I follow Dylan and Tim out of the room.

As soon as we get into the hallway, Tim spins on me. "That was really fucking stupid; you know that?" he shouts in my face.

"Tim!" Dylan steps in between us. "Get yourself under control. It's not her fault the guy's a prick!"

"It's her fault that she cares," Tim says. "Dylan, you've got trouble on your hands. You know you can't have crazy things written about you because of a dumb chick."

"I've got a this-close-to-being-fired agent on my hands is what I have," Dylan snaps. "I mean it, Tim. Apologize to Jasalie now, and then go cool off."

"I'm sorry, Jasalie," Tim says, his flat expression telling me he doesn't mean it at all.

I nod at him and look down.

Then he sighs. "The thing is you could be good for Dylan's image. Real good. But if you don't learn to keep your temper in check..."

"I apologize," I say quickly. "I understand my behavior can negatively affect Dylan's brand. I don't want to jeopardize his charity or business."

"You're not, Jasalie," Dylan says quickly. "Don't blame yourself. Please."

Tim looks between Dylan and me. "You know what? You two work together. In fact, I think a quick kiss could sweep what happened last night and today under the carpet...what do you say?"

"Absolutely not." Dylan's eyes are daggers as he directs his angry gaze at Tim. "Jasalie didn't agree to a public kiss. For Christ's sake, Tim, this isn't some reality show."

But Tim doesn't appear to be listening. "I'll call the media, let them know where you'll be. It will be a public place, somewhere in the middle of Tucson. All you need to do is kiss each other quickly but on the lips. Okay? Jasalie, what do you say?"

"Um..." I tap my foot on the floor. "How far away will the cameramen be?"

"Too far away to speak to you at all," Tim promises. "They won't be allowed to approach you. You'll step out of a car, kiss on the sidewalk, step back into the car, and drive off. It will help cement the idea that your behavior last night was you being protective of Dylan."

"That was me being protective of Dylan!" I say. "I wasn't acting."

"People are stupid," Tim says with a broad-based sweep of his arm as if including the entire world. "They need proof. A kiss...that's the proof."

I throw up my hands. "Sure. One kiss. Why not?"

Tim smiles. "I'll set it up."

"Jasalie, no." Dylan shakes his head firmly. "This wasn't part of our deal. You know that as well as I do."

"Dylan, you know why I'm suggesting this." Tim turns to leave. "And, Jasalie, no more outbursts in public." He waves good-bye and walks off.

Once Tim's gone, Dylan grips the short strands of his hair with both hands and turns his back to me. "Freaking Tim," he mutters. I stare at his muscled back moving as he takes three deep breaths. When he turns around to face me again, his eyes are warm. "We're not doing the kiss. I'm vetoing it. I'll call Tim later."

"But your charity..."

"Isn't worth that," he says firmly. "That's taking it too far. I won't change my mind on this." He steps into my space and with his nose nearly touching mine, says hotly, "Jasalie, I promise you-if I kiss you, it will be because I want to, not because my damn agent thought he could get some good PR mileage out of it."

I catch my breath and stare into his dark eyes.

"Okay." I nod. "I understand. And you're right. It's a slippery slope once you start doing things like that."

"It's a free fall down to having no private life at all is what it is," Dylan says. His tone is fierce, and his expression tells me there's no room for argument.

"Agreed."

He lowers his head to make direct eye contact with me. "And backing up to what happened in there"-he gestures to the room we just walked out of-"you don't need to defend me you know."

"I know," I say awkwardly.

He takes my arm. "Let's stop in my room for a minute so we can talk in private."

We begin walking down the hall.

"Obviously you can take care of yourself," I say quietly. "I just didn't see you doing it."

"I can't take on every journalist who doesn't get me, Jasalie. Do you know how many times a week I'd be in a fight?"

"I just don't understand. Why would you do interviews with people who are so awful? How is that possibly worth it to you?"

Dylan sighs and puts his keycard into the slot. "I don't know," he says as he lets us into his room. "I guess I don't really feel I have a lot of control over the whole thing. Tim usually just tells me where and when."

"I think you should tell Tim he wouldn't have so much money if it weren't for you," I say. "Plus, it's what you do on the football field that matters, not what you say in a magazine interview."

Dylan flops down on his back onto the bed. "Come here." He pats the spot next to him.

I take a seat on the very edge of the bed and wave my arms. "That guy didn't respect you, period. That's not right. It doesn't matter who you are. It's not okay."

"I like how animated you are right now." Dylan's eyes sparkle as he imitates my arm movements. "Very hot."

I make a face at him. "Ha. Obviously you don't agree with my point."

He shakes his head. "It's not that I don't agree. I appreciate your point. And I have to admit I was really surprised when you stood up and said something in my defense like that. I didn't know you cared so much."

My face goes hot. "It's no big deal."

"I think it's a big deal." Dylan puts his hand on my thigh. "So, does this mean you like me a little bit maybe?"

He says it in a teasing tone, but his cheeks flush.

"Maybe a little," I mumble.

His eyes light up.

"But don't start getting a big head about it," I warn him. "Because then I won't like you anymore."

"Okay. Got it." Dylan puts his hands on my waist and pulls me further onto the bed until I'm practically lying on top of him.

His eyes hook mine. "You're remarkable," he says in nearly a whisper. "You blow me away, Jasalie."

The heat of his body presses against mine, and I lean my head on his shoulder. His heart's beating as fast as mine is, but I try to relax into the rhythm of his chest moving in and out as he breathes.

But when I feel his breathing get shallower and faster, my stomach clenches and my mouth goes dry.

Dylan reaches over and strokes my hair gently. Then his hand moves to my shoulder. He rubs it before moving to my arm. And then my hip.

Stop him. Stop him.

By the time he reaches my leg, I'm biting down on a gasp. I close my eyes and let him touch me.

His breathing gets louder as he brushes his fingers across my thigh and then over the front of my jeans.

His thumb runs down the inside of my leg and back up, and a stifled cry escapes my lips. I try so hard to muffle the sound, but it comes out anyway.

And Dylan hears it.

"Jasalie." His voice is so low above my head I barely hear him.

His hand stills.

Shit. He's waiting for me. To tell him what I want.

When I don't move, he lifts his hand off my leg and rests it on his chest.

But I've stopped thinking straight.

The ache between my legs is so intense I'm trembling.

I grab his hand and return it to my leg, but this time, to the inside of my hip, right next to my jeans zipper.

Dylan sucks in a breath.

He shifts onto his side, making sure to keep me tucked in next to him.

Then he runs his hand over the waistband of my jeans.

When he slips his finger just inside, his callused pad touches the soft skin of my stomach, and I nearly come apart.

I clutch his shirt into a tight fist and bury my face in his shoulder. I feel like I'm going to explode.

His arm wrapped snugly around my back brings me even closer to him, and now he's undoing the button of my jeans.

When he slowly releases the zipper, I bite-bite-his shirt. Hard. I may have even gotten a bit of skin.

I don't know if he notices. God, I hope he didn't notice.

"Sweetheart, you can bite me as hard as you want to." His voice comes out choppy.

Oh, shit. Normally I would be embarrassed, but when his hand dips inside my open jeans and over my thin satin underwear, I stop hearing my brain altogether. All I feel is Dylan-his solid chest underneath my head, his manly scent enveloping me-and his fingers slowly making their way between my legs.

I'm drooling onto his shirt now as his fingers slide over my panties, the wetness underneath so slick he groans.

He presses one large finger where I need him most.

I feel like I've been on the verge of orgasm since I met him, and that's probably why I'm writhing around like I'm going to die if I don't come.

But I can't let him inside me.

And it's like he knows that. He stays outside my underwear, but he keeps touching me, and I buck my hips so hard I'm sure I'd be on the ground right now if he weren't holding me tightly against him. His finger keeps up the relentless pressure on the painful throbbing between my legs-first he goes light, then harder, then light again. Just when I think he's teasing me, he increases the pressure until my thighs tremble uncontrollably and I let out a loud cry.

But I can't get my release. I just can't fall over the edge.

I clutch at his shirt with my fists. I grind my teeth into the soft fabric, and I moan and kick my feet. But I'm...stuck.

"Let go, Jasalie." Dylan's rough voice in my ear cuts through all the bullshit. "Stop holding back. Come on, babe."

I raise my head to look at him. His gaze is fevered, and his lips part when we lock eyes. He adds a second finger to the mix as he strokes me in a way that should be illegal, and he softly whispers those two words again, "Let go."

I come so fast I cry out in surprise and forget to shut my eyes to him. Wave after wave pulses through my core, and just when I think I'm done, a second mini-orgasm hits me.

Dylan stares at me the entire time I explode, his eyes liquid with desire. When I finish, he leans forward like he's going to kiss me. Like he's going to meld his mouth to mine, and I know I'll never be the same again.

But then his expression closes down, and he pulls back abruptly.

And I do, too.

We stare at each other, neither of us saying a word.

The loud, insistent ringing of Dylan's room phone breaks the awkward silence between us.

I sit up and hurriedly refasten my jeans, and Dylan stands up and answers his phone.

The interruption has returned my brain to my head, and I stand up. Things are moving far too fast for me to maintain any semblance of control over my emotions.

And from the way he's avoiding making eye contact with me, Dylan's coming to the exact same realization.

"Um..." I call out awkwardly. "I guess I'll see you later?"

He turns back to face me. "Tim, hold on a second."

He covers the phone receiver with his hand. "Sorry, I have to take this. Are we good?"

"Of course."

A shadow crosses his face; if I'm not mistaken, it looks like regret.

Shit. I may be scared, but I don't regret what just happened.

I wave at him and turn and leave.

Out the door, down the hall to the stairwell, and I don't stop until I reach my room.