Escorting the Player (The Escort Collection 3)

What on Earth would he think of me if I told him that? And if I told him my unemployed, scheming sister was trying to blackmail me just so she could get a new pocketbook?

He'd probably run away, screaming. I wouldn't even blame him.

He held up his hands. "I'm not trying to make you upset. I just want to get to know you better. And we don't need to keep secrets from each other, like you said."

I nodded. "I know. But my family's not exactly fun to talk about. And my mom…she died of cancer." The lie tasted bitter and coppery, like battery acid on my tongue.

"I'm so sorry." He got up and came around the island, pulling me into his arms. "And just so you know, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But if you decide you want to talk, I'm not gonna judge. I'm not like that, okay?" He kissed the top of my head.

Of course you're not. You're perfect. And this is just another example of what I'm going to be missing out on, once this assignment's over.

"Okay," I said, nodding against his chest, relaxing in spite of myself against his wall of well-meaning muscle. "Are you ready to eat?"

He took a step back. "Absofuckinglutely," he said. "It smells so good."

I shrugged self-consciously. "I hope you like it…"

* * *

CHASE

"Christ, woman, I have to unbutton my shorts," I said, rubbing my stomach. "That was amazing."

Avery looked at me with one eyebrow raised. "I can't believe you ate the entire pan of lasagna."

"You had some," I said defensively.

"I had one piece."

"I told you I've only been eating takeout. I needed some home-cooking."

She laughed and got up to clear the dishes.

"You can just leave those in the sink. Housekeeping will clean it up. That's one of the perks of being an NFL player. You don't have to do dishes."

"That's a pretty nice perk," Avery said.

I watched her as she ran the water in the sink. She was wearing one of my T-shirts, her hair up in a messy bun. Even though the rest of me was too stuffed to move, my cock twitched. Shit. I had to go back to practice soon. The day after tomorrow. Even though that'd been all I wanted, now all I wanted was to stay home on house arrest with Avery. "Do you want to watch a movie with me?"

Avery bit her lip. "I don't know, maybe…"

"C'mon. What are you worried about? I thought we already did all the things either of us could be worried about."

She shook her head. "I'm just worried that you…like really bad movies."

I grinned at her. "Trust me, I have great taste." I stood up and held out my hand for her, and she tentatively took it. "Let's see what I've got in my Netflix library."

I brought her into my bedroom, threw off my shorts and jumped onto the bed in just my underwear. She'd seen all of me, so I figured she could handle my boxer briefs. I grabbed the clicker as she sat down beside me. "Do you want to watch Notting Hill or something? Because I can do that—even though Hugh Grant makes me wanna barf. But I'm man enough to watch it with you."

She laughed. "I do love Julia Roberts, but I won't force her and Hugh on you. Is there some way we can meet in the middle?"

I scrolled through the offerings. "Have you watched Game of Thrones? I haven't had the time to sit down and start."

"I really don't watch that much TV," she said. "But I've heard Game of Thrones is awesome."

"You want to try it?"

"Okay." She grinned at me. "I'm game if you are. Get it? Game. That's a pun!"