“I‘m full,” I say as we finish up our dinner at a Mexican restaurant overlooking the water in Marina Del Rey.

Dylan hands the waiter a wad of cash.

“Dylan, let me pay you for half.”

“Nope,” he says. “I invited you to L.A., and I know you weren’t necessarily thrilled with the idea, so this is my treat.”

We leave the table and walk toward the back exit. Dylan has a Dodgers hat on, pulled low in hopes of avoiding being recognized. It seems to have worked. Either that, or it’s the fact that the owner placed us in a booth so far removed from the rest of the room that we’re almost impossible to see.

“That’s the first time no one’s asked you for an autograph or a photo in all the restaurants we’ve been to together,” I say.

“Relief,” is all he says as he puts his arm around me. “Let’s go pick up your cats.”

Bessie and Balaster are in their carriers in the back seat when we reach Dylan’s downtown apartment for a quick tour before returning to Malibu. I’d snuck a note under Rosita’s door so she wouldn’t think they’d been kidnapped. She texted me five minutes later that she was in the laundry room and couldn’t believe she missed us.

Dylan pulls into the underground parking garage and opens his door.

“Should I leave the kitties in the car?” I ask him.

“Bring them in with us,” he says. “This parking lot is all underground. I wouldn’t want to leave them.”

He carries Bessie’s carrier and I hold Balaster’s as we walk through the lobby toward the elevators.

“Good evening, Mr. Wild,” the doorman says to Dylan before turning to me. “Madam, good evening.”

“Hello, Raul.” Dylan smiles. “How are you?”

Raul’s gaze darts to the cats in their carriers, but Dylan keeps walking, so I follow.

“Are pets allowed here?” I ask once the elevator doors close behind us.

“I don’t know,” Dylan says. “We’re not staying overnight, though.”

When we reach the top floor, Dylan leads me out of the elevator and down the hall to the very end.

“You’ve got a corner apartment! Those are the best ones.” I’ve always wanted one of those.

Dylan unlocks the door. “Yeah. It’s cool.” He ushers me ahead of him and puts Bessie’s carrier on the floor before unzipping it. “Go ahead. Put Balaster down anywhere.”

As soon as I open the carrier, Balaster’s on the move. In unison, he and Bessie go skidding across the hardwood floors and right up onto the beautiful black couch in the center of Dylan’s living room.

“No!” I race over to grab them, but Dylan touches my arm.

“It’s fine, babe, really. I like having them here. A little fur is the last thing I’m worried about.”

He takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. The massive bed is covered with a maroon and beige comforter, and the headboard is made of a dark fabric. The ceilings are cathedral, giving the room the appearance of grandeur.

“Wow. This is amazing.”

“I’ve wanted to take you up here since we met.”

I look out his floor-to-ceiling window. “You can see all of Los Angeles from here.”

Dylan stands next to me. “I’ve always loved that part of it. I’ve been here five years, so it’s been like home.”

“You sounded like you wanted to leave it when you were talking earlier.”

“Yeah.” He takes a seat on the bed and pulls me onto his lap. “I’m ready for something a little quieter. Malibu’s more my speed right now.”

“I’m sure you’ve had lots of women up here already,” I tease him.

Okay, sort of tease him. I think I felt more comfortable in Malibu where at least I knew he didn’t spend much time.

He kisses my cheek tenderly as I put my arms around him. “Literally every woman I’ve dated was a temporary distraction,” he says. “From injuries, from stress, from loneliness. I actually didn’t understand love. Annabella was the only woman I was with for more than a few weeks, and like I told you, we were more good friends than anything else. I didn’t know what real love felt like in the least.”

I trace my initials on his chest. “I guess we’re more similar than I realized, Dylan Wild.”

He takes my hand in his and plants a kiss on my palm. “You’ve had to follow an unbelievable road to get where you are. I’d never compare my life to yours. But I guess we aren’t as different as we thought.”

I lean in and kiss him. When things turn passionate, I pull back and look at him for a second, and then I gently press him back against the pillows. He resists me at first—I know he’s not used to giving up control and being vulnerable.

But I persist until he relaxes. Then I lean in and take off his shirt, pants, and shoes.

And boxers.

When I abruptly lean over his waist and put my mouth on him, he calls out my name in surprise.

“Jasalie, you don’t have to…”

I know I don’t have to. That’s one of the things I love about Dylan. He never demands anything from me. And in return, he gives me more love and affection and care than I’ve ever had in my life.

But right now, all I want is his hard length in my mouth. I shush him as I kneel between his legs. I lick him gently at first before I suck hard, and then I continue in a way where I think I’m going to lose my mind with lust.

I normally hate giving a guy head. Loathe it. The joke about women giving blowjobs for no reason other than to shut their boyfriend up? I should have invented that joke.

But when my lips land on the soft, velvety tip of Dylan’s erection, I actually do it because I want to. I want to take him this way. I want him to buck off the bed like he’s doing right now, and I want him to come in my mouth so I can taste him.

He gets high off what we’re doing, so high he’s moaning out my name in between a long string of curse words. And then…

He lets go.

“Christ, Jasalie. God, I’m gonna come—”

He tries to push my head away, but I hang on, and when he comes on my tongue his strangled sounds of bliss nearly send me into orbit.

I keep my eyes trained on his face and as he’s coming down, he gets emotional. He’s shaking and his eyes are filled with sadness.

I pull off of him and crawl up to his chest. He brings me close and kisses my lips.

And I forget where I am. I forget I’m in L.A. and that I said I’d never stay here with him. I forget why I ever said that in the first place. I can’t imagine ever being apart from this man.

“You’re the only woman who likes me as I am, for me,” he whispers.

I widen my eyes like I’m seeing him for the first time. “Do you feel you need to be perfect or no one will love you?”

Dylan tries to shrug off my question, but I take his face in my hands and force him to look at me.

“I don’t know.” He looks down.

“You’re shaking, honey.” I thread my fingers through his hair.

Dylan shuts his eyes. “I always tried to be perfect. It was just never enough.”

“For him?” I ask.

When his eyes open and they’re filled with tears, I tense, feeling that familiar urge to bolt.

I’m not used to playing this role in our relationship, in any relationship, really. I’m always the person with the problems, the screwed-up one.

But I don’t run. I hold Dylan in my arms and rub his head gently until he stills.

“I’m sorry.” He sits up straight. “This is awkward.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I never wanted to deal with certain personal issues,” he says. “I thought that if I could just keep throwing the football and never get off the field, I wouldn’t have to.” He looks away from me and out the window. “I guess I even thought I could hide it from you.”

I feel the irony of what he’s saying as the words are coming out of his mouth.

“I know,” he says as if he’s reading my mind. “It’s incredibly crazy. You spent all that time in Arizona, not wanting me to know about your past and your pain, and I was avoiding telling you about my family. Because the thing is, I had a great childhood. For the most part, I was a really happy kid. My dad and I just…never got along. He always preferred to be with Matt. No matter what I did, he chose him. And that was probably the beginning, now that I think about it.”

“The beginning of what?”

“Of me not trusting anyone. I thought it only happened once I became a public figure, but it actually started long before that.”

I tilt my head as I search his troubled gaze. “And here I thought I was the only one of us who didn’t trust.”

He puts his hand on my thigh. “I told you about my issues with letting people in once I got drafted.”

“You did. But that’s not the same thing. That’s just you being careful.”

“It’s more than careful,” he says. “I started to lose faith in the goodness of people. And that’s a scary place to be. But realizing it may have all started when I was a kid, that’s even more disturbing.”

I take his hands in mine and look down at them. They’re tanned even though it’s winter. The veins are clearly defined with some freckles, probably from all that time playing football underneath the hot sun. His fingers are strong and callused. I stroke them with my own, and then I look up at him. “You have honest hands.”

“How do you know?” He looks down at them intertwined with mine

.

“Because I sculpt. I looked at people’s hands constantly in different seminars or workshops I attended. I didn’t mean to, of course,” I add hastily, realizing I sound like I’m some sort of a voyeur.

Dylan’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

“But when I was looking at people’s work, they’d point at different things, and I noticed their hands as much as I noticed what they’d made with them.” I pause. “Yours are so strong, but they’re tired. They’re a little angry from all the heat put on them, all that pressure, but they’re also confident and sure of themselves. And happy.”

Dylan brings my hands up to his mouth and kisses them.

We don’t say it out loud, but neither of us wants the day to end, and driving back to Malibu would imply that sleep is imminent. After tonight, we only have one more night together, and then it’s over. So we hang out at Dylan’s apartment and stall.

At nearly one a.m., Dylan looks at his watch. “It’s too late for the pool.”

“What pool?”

“This building has an enclosed heated pool on the rooftop. But it closes at midnight.”

I nod, swallowing down my disappointment.

“Unless I can pull a favor…” He’s already reaching for the phone.

We ride the elevator to the rooftop with the night bellhop. He unlocks the doors for us, and we step out into the open air.

“Just give a call when you’re ready to come back down,” the bellhop says with a smile and a wave as the elevator doors close behind him.

I don’t know that I ever want to come down. Not with the way I’m feeling right now. I smile at Dylan as we walk to the glass doors that lead to the enclosed swimming pool.

It’s cool and windy on the roof, but once we step inside the pool room, all I feel is warm, humid air.

Dylan’s already got his shirt off, and he’s reaching for mine. I keep my bra and underwear on, and then I put one foot and then the other into the water. I take a seat carefully on the tiled steps and feel the cool water on my legs. Dylan drops his pants and then dives into the pool immediately, right into the deep end. No bathing suit or boxers. He swims to the shallow end to coax me into the water with him.

“I don’t know.” I stay where I am.

Dylan reaches behind me and unhooks my bra. “You’ve got too much on, babe.”

I float into the water and swim up to him. He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

“Are you sure nobody can see us?”

“Positive,” he whispers back. “There’s not a soul up here. And no cameras. We’re safe to stay all night if we want.

”

“Then we’d look like prunes,” I say to him.

“I’m not sure we’d care,” he says as he slips my underwear off my hips.

I watch my panties start to float down to the bottom of the pool and try to grab them. I miss.

“I’ll get them later.” Dylan puts his lips on mine.

His mouth goes to my breast, and I hold onto him for dear life. I’m not sure I’ll remember about my clothes later. I’ll probably be too happy to care.

We drive out to Malibu in the early hours of the morning. The freeway is nearly empty, and the sun still hasn’t risen, but it’s about to. I love Los Angeles when it’s quiet like this. The lights never stop shining, but when there’s less noise, I can almost hear myself in the city, and it’s very peaceful.

Malibu is a lot quieter than downtown, even at night. When we pull into Dylan’s driveway, and I open the car door, I can hear the birds just waking up.

“It’s nice out here,” I say.

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees.

We get into bed with Bessie and Balaster curled up at our feet.

“Sometimes I can’t believe I grew up in a small town in the middle of nowhere.” Dylan pulls the comforter over my shoulder. “I’ve become such a city guy.”

I can hear his heartbeat as I rest my head on his chest. “So who’s Uncle Irv?”

Dylan exhales. “My mom’s brother. He’s the oldest sibling in her family, about ten years older than her. She was the baby of the family. Like me.”

“And he’s sick?”

“He’s dying. I’ve seen him a few times since he was diagnosed, but not since we won. I wanted to bring back my MVP trophy to show him because I know he’ll have passed on before we get our championship rings.”

“You’re close to him?”

“I wouldn’t say close. He’s kind of a recluse. But I’ve known him my whole life, and he was always proud of me.”

I sit up straight. “I have an idea.” I don’t stop for breath, hoping that won’t allow me time to think about what I’m saying. “I think we should fly to your hometown together. Tomorrow, before we go back to Tucson.”

Dylan furrows his brow in thought. “I did get a text from Brayden earlier. He said everyone’s flying into town early so they’ll be there tonight. You could meet the rest of my cousins this way.”

“That sounds great. I can miss another day of work on the back end. I just think it’s important you see your uncle. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I were the reason you missed out on getting there in time.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Dylan says. “Me not seeing Uncle Irv has nothing to do with you. My parents won’t even be there. They’ll still be in L.A.”

“Well, I’d like to see the town you grew up in.”

As I say it, I realize that it’s true. I’m curious.

Dylan smiles. “I can’t promise any romantic nights like we just had. It’s pretty much a one-horse town.”

I smile at him. “Are you afraid you can’t impress me enough in Montana? You think you need your fancy houses and planes to do that?”

Dylan blushes. “No, that’s not it.”

“Oh, really?” I grab his hand. “What is it then?”

“It’s nothing.” He looks away from me. “I don’t know. It’s not really me back in Wilcox. I’m different than all of that now.”

“But you came from there. You can learn a lot about a person when you see where they came from.”

“True.” He brushes a hair off my forehead. “I’ll arrange for the plane to be ready in the afternoon, and that way, we’ll have time to hang out here beforehand.”