I've changed my outfit three times in the last half hour. Luckily, I'd repacked my suitcase at my apartment with a fresh set of clothes, but a "meet the parents" outfit wasn't on my checklist. By the time Dylan returns from his beach run, I'm standing in his bedroom in a bra and skirt.

"You ready?" he jokes.

"Yes. I think I'll seduce them. Or better yet, let them all think I'm a whore. That should get me points."

"You always look beautiful." He gives me a kiss. "Anything will look great."

He heads into the shower, and I continue staring into the massive mirror inside his walk-in closet.

Fifteen minutes later, when Dylan comes out of the bathroom with damp hair and only a towel around his waist, I decide my sick-time is definitely over. I walk over to him and run my hands down his bare chest. Then I pull the towel off him. He brings me against him and puts his mouth over mine. His impressive erection presses into my belly, and I cry out.

"I've missed you," he says into my tongue.

"Missed being naked with you."

"It's been a long few days," I whisper as he pulls my bra straps off my shoulders, and my breasts pop free.

Dylan groans and puts his mouth on my left nipple. When he sucks on it hard, my knees turn to jelly. He backs me up to his California king bed until I'm seated on the edge. Then he pushes my skirt up to my waist.

"Christ." He stares between my legs. "You're not wearing any underwear?"

I shrug. "I never do with this skirt. It shows panty lines really badly."

"Sweetheart, I will not be able to sit next to you at this picnic and know you're naked under there."

He puts one finger gently inside me, and I gasp.

"Dylan, shit. Why are you so damn good at that?"

He chuckles and pushes his finger in further. I moan and lean back on my elbows as I spread my legs more.

"Jasalie, you're so beautiful." Dylan's voice is guttural. "God, I could look at you forever. I could make love to you forever, and I can't believe I haven't tasted..."

He kneels down like he's going to touch me there with his...

Oh, no. Not that.

"I'm on the pill," I burst out with the one thing I've been wanting to say for a while now.

Dylan's dark eyes go positively liquid as he puts both hands on my waist and jerks his head up to meet my gaze.

"And I know you're a professional athlete, so I don't want to sound like a naïve schoolgirl or something," I ramble. "But I was tested recently, a couple weeks before I left for Tucson, and I'm clean."

Dylan's expression turns serious. "I'm clean, too. I was tested after we won the championship, at my year-end physical. And I haven't been with anyone since. Not until you."

We study each other.

"So you want to do this?" I finally say.

Dylan's nod is instant. "Yes."

I bite my lip and then quickly say, "Me too."

Dylan braces his arms beside my head. His eyes are like lasers on mine as he positions himself between my legs. But before going any further, he stops.

"Jasalie. I just want you to know something."

I widen my eyes. "Okay."

"I've never done this with anyone before." His expression is tender as he runs his thumb over my lower lip. "I've never been inside someone without a barrier between us."

My breath catches in my throat. "Me neither."

He kisses me. "I can't wait to feel you."

But he goes slowly as he enters, taking his time to slide inside.

"Oh, God." The sensation of his bare skin hitting me is so intense I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Holy fuck." Dylan's mouth is hard on mine as he thrusts all the way inside me.

Then he starts moving, almost like he can't stop.

"Jasalie, this is so..."

"I know," I whisper back.

It's so intense.

It's too intense.

If I let myself feel this fully, Dylan will be completely underneath my skin, and I'll never be able to walk away from him.

I keep my eyes closed and clutch at the bed sheets with both hands.

"Jasalie."

My eyes fly open at the need in Dylan's voice.

His gaze is focused on me as he stops moving.

He's aware of me.

He knows exactly what I'm feeling and how terrified I am.

Without saying another word, he lifts my legs until I wrap them around his back. Then he takes both my hands and puts them over my head. Using one of his hands to gently hold my wrists in place, he lowers his head until we're so close I can't look away. I can't shut him out.

He smells so good. Like soap and aftershave and him. I want him so much I can't possibly push him away.

Then he begins to move. Excruciatingly slowly until my body is screaming for him. Deep inside I'm dying for him.

"Harder," I finally bite out. "Faster."

"Not yet." He continues to push all the way inside me and then tortuously pull almost the entire way out.

With each slow thrust, my impending orgasm licks up my spine and through my blood.

But Dylan won't bring me all the way there. Every time, he slows down and agonizingly retreats from my core. His eyes never leave mine.

"Dylan," I beg him.

"Do you want me, Jasalie? Do you want all of me?" His words are stripped bare of everything but pure desire. "Tell me."

I nod and try to shut my eyes again, but his lips touch mine, and I refocus on his face.

A thin sheen of sweat covers his skin now, and his hand stays loosely entwined over my wrists. "Tell me," he murmurs into my mouth. "Say it."

I can't say what he really wants, what I know he really needs me to say.

"I..." I speak as much from my heart as I'm capable. "I need you so much I'm dying inside when you retreat like that."

Dylan's eyes widen like I've surprised him, and he drives into me then, so deeply I moan as he reaches the desperate place inside of me. I shake and dig my heels into his back.

"Is this where you need me?" His breath is labored and his eyes feral on mine as he drives into me again, and my moans turn into screams. "Right here?"

"Yes," I cry out as he hits the spot again and again. "God, Dylan, yes."

He calls out my name as his orgasm takes over and his thrusts become wild and untamed. And I'm lost. I'm completely, utterly lost to him.

My muscles clench around him, and I finally let go with a release so huge I start shaking. He holds me as we come together, his lips grazing mine the entire time I nonsensically call out his name over and over.

Then I do the most humiliating thing ever.

I start to cry.

Dylan's up on the bed in an instant and has me tucked into his side.

"I'm fine." I give an awkward laugh. "Oh, Lord. Just...go into the bathroom or something. Please."

"You're not possibly embarrassed." He says it like I'm nuts.

"Of course I am." I bury my face in his neck. "What kind of person cries after sex?"

"That wasn't just sex, baby." His lips are on my hair, my cheeks, my mouth. "That was a life-altering kind of thing. Earth smashing."

"Earth smashing?" I tease him.

"Exactly. The earth exploded when we made love just now. And don't even try to deny it."

"I won't deny anything of the sort." I kiss his neck. "I couldn't."

Dylan kisses me tenderly and then twists his neck to glance at the clock on his dresser. "I really hate to say this, but we have to get going."

I wipe my eyes and sit up. "Think you can handle it if I wear the skirt?"

"No." His eyes are fierce. "I can't. I don't want my brother within a hundred yards of you when you're not wearing panties."

I make a face. "Why the hell not?"

"It's complicated." He stands up and grabs his towel as he heads for the bathroom. "I'll be right back. We'll talk on the way."

Okay. Because I wasn't nervous enough before he dropped that bomb.

I grab my silk blue shirt. "This is fine, I guess." I put it over my head and pull the thin clingy fabric over my boobs.

"Looks good to me," Dylan says with a grin as he returns from the bathroom and grabs a pair of boxer briefs out of the drawer.

I laugh as I pull on a pair of underwear and my blue jeans. "Is there a department store on the way?"

"I doubt it. We're not passing any malls."

I look away. I'm still feeling a bit weepy, and I'd really like to wear perfume.

Dylan eyes me steadily. "Do you need something at the store, babe?"

I force a smile. "It can wait."

"Okay. If you're sure."

I step into my sandals, grab my purse, and we head downstairs.

"I told you my brother and I look nothing alike." Dylan laughs as I try to touch his crotch while he drives. "He'll like you, though."

"I hope they all like me." I pull down the mirror and look into it anxiously.

I take my hairbrush out of my purse and start on my hair for the third time this trip.

"I mean he'll like you." Dylan doesn't sound like himself when he says it.

I wince. "You already said something to that effect earlier. What do you mean?"

"Matt and I have always liked different types of women," Dylan says. "But I've never introduced him to a woman like you before. Someone I love. And he's always been super competitive."

"This picnic is sounding more and more appealing."

"Sorry." Dylan reaches over and touches my leg. "There's a reason my cousins are more like my brothers than my own is. Matt and I have a tenuous history at best. You'll see."

"I can't wait." I grit my teeth and go back to brushing my hair.

When we get to the picnic area, nobody is in sight. The lack of paparazzi is a relief; the absence of Dylan's family, however, confuses me.

"They're not here?" I shield my eyes with my hand to look around.

"Not a surprise," Dylan says. "They're not the most punctual folks."

After waiting for fifteen minutes, during which time we alternate between kissing and cracking jokes, a Mercedes-Benz pulls up behind our car.

"Here they are." Dylan stands up, and I follow him to the car.

I'm so nervous my palms are sweating, and I desperately try to wipe them on my pants before his parents fully emerge from the car.

When his brother gets out from the driver's side, I'm more than a little surprised. I guess I'd assumed his father would be driving.

Matt comes up to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. His hair is dark like Dylan's, but he's shorter, and bulkier. And skankier. I can tell before he even opens his mouth.

"You're not Dylan's type," he says.

I think he means it as a joke, but his shades are so dark I can't see his eyes, and this throws me off completely. I need to be able to look into somebody's eyes to tell how I feel about them.

As his parents come up to me, I realize Dylan and I are the only people at this party without sunglasses. I shouldn't hold it against them. It's Los Angeles after all, and today is a sunny day.

His father shakes my hand and looks at me I think. He's a good six inches shorter than Dylan, too.

Dylan's mother pats my arm and says she likes my hair. I thank her as Dylan leads us all over to the picnic table. Mrs. Wild carries a cooler until Dylan offers to take it for her. Mr. Wild and Matt sit down next to each other and immediately launch into a business chat.

"I think they seem like trustworthy folks," Mr. Wild says. "Good reps."

"I think they seem kind of stupid."

I jump at Matt's tone. It's hateful, so unlike Dylan's. I look down at the turkey sandwich Dylan's put in front of me. It feels like an impossible task to eat right now. I'll be lucky to get down half of it.

"I think you may be right." Mr. Wild claps Matt on the shoulder. "I'm glad we've got you."

Dylan quietly bites into his sandwich. Mrs. Wild smiles at him and asks if his shoulder's still sore from the season.

"Little bit," he admits.

I whip my head to him. "I didn't know you were hurt."

He shakes his head at me slightly. "I'm not. It's an old injury, so after a full season of playing, it still twinges."

Mr. Wild looks down the table. "Dylan, you need to get into better shape in the offseason so you can stay healthy. You could work for me."

"How would that help him get into shape?" I say without meaning to.

Dylan chuckles.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Wild glares at me.

I swallow hard. "Sir, I just don't understand. Dylan has to work so hard as it is."

His father laughs cruelly. "Work hard? Football is a sport, a game! Matt here, he has to work hard for his money. Not all of us can be born with innate talent."

My body seethes with anger. His father sounds like that dumbass reporter from the other day.

Dylan jumps in before I can say anything more. "I'm in fine shape, Dad. Don't worry about it."

Matt, meanwhile, has removed his shades and is peeking at me from behind his beer. With one eye. The other is hidden behind the beer can.

I glare at him as he pretends to blow me a kiss.

Dylan notices. "Lay off, Matt."

Matt laughs. "Take it down a notch, Dyl. You never could take a joke."

"What I could never take was you."

Dylan reaches over and slaps the beer out of Matt's hand. It spills all over Mr. Wild's sandwich.

"Always screwing up," Mr. Wild says. "Dylan, grow up, for God's sake!"

I stand up so fast Mrs. Wild jumps. "You think he's not grown up?" I say as I point to Dylan. "He's about a million years more grown up than anyone I've ever known."

Mrs. Wild reaches out and touches my arm. "Please, dear, do sit down and eat."

I turn to her. "I'm sorry," I say as I sit back down.

Dylan pats my leg under the table.

He's never going to invite me anywhere again. Why can't I keep my mouth closed?

Mr. Wild's mouth hangs open as he stares at me. Maybe he's in shock. He even picks up his soggy sandwich and bites into it. Matt frowns and looks at his father almost like he's waiting for the backup, but none comes.

Dylan leans over and kisses my cheek by my ear. And he whispers, "I love you."

I put my hand on his leg and use my other hand to pick up my sandwich.

I've forced down about two bites when I feel Matt's eyes on me again.

"So, Jasalie." He grins at me creepily.

I narrow my eyes at him.

"You're not from Montana, are you?"

"I was born in Arizona but I grew up here," I say. "L.A."

"A native?" Matt raises his eyebrows. "I didn't think there were any of those."

I nod and go back to choking down my turkey and Swiss.

"Oh, Dylan," Mrs. Wild says. "Uncle Irv's been asking for you. Wondering when you'll be back in Montana again."

"How is he?" Dylan asks.

"Not good," Mr. Wild says. "Not good at all."

Mrs. Wild wipes away a tear. "He's not long for this world, I'm afraid." She starts to cry for real. "Poor Irv."

I glance at Dylan, who says to his mother, "Damn. I was planning to see him in a few days. I'm going up to Montana to see Brayden and the guys."

"Doubt he'll be around much longer, buddy." Mr. Wild sounds halfway normal for a moment. "He's hanging on by a thread."

Dylan frowns, but the moment is broken by an unpleasant sound coming from Matt. I have to look over at him to realize it's a laugh. He's playing with his tomato, rolling it along on his plate like a wheel. When he lets go, the tomato topples onto its side and Matt takes his fist and smashes it into his paper plate until juice goes everywhere, including into his father's food.

Mr. Wild doesn't admonish him, though.

"Matt honey, eat your sandwich." Mrs. Wild smiles at me brightly.

Maybe she's embarrassed by Matt's behavior. I can't really tell what she's thinking. I smile back awkwardly and reach for my sandwich. If I can just finish eating, we can get out of here.

"Hey, Dylan." Matt turns to him abruptly. "Dad and I saw you on TV last night."

"Oh, yeah?" Dylan says, not sounding enthused.

"Yeah." Matt laughs. "Bloopers. That time you were sacked last season against San Fran. Remember?"

Mr. Wild perks up. "You went right down on your ass, boy," he says as he gives Matt a high five.

Dylan's relationship with Dante is making a lot more sense. I put my head on my hand, wishing Dylan and I were as far away from here as possible.