“Maybe we should go back to the locker room,” she muttered, frustrated. “Everything was awesome there, wasn’t it?”

His eyes lit up. “Aha.”

“What? Aha what?”

“Why was it you started playing derby again?” There was a wicked sparkle in his eye that made her wonder what he was getting at.

Chelsea tightened the robe about her and considered. “I started playing because I went to a practice and met the girls.”

“Yeah, but why derby? What about it appealed to you?”

He was getting at something, but she was too upset and frustrated and tired to follow along. She shrugged. “They looked so strong and confident on the track. Tough. Like nothing could bother them . . .” Her words trailed off and her eyes widened. She sat up straight. “You think it worked earlier because I was Chesty LaRude instead of me?”

“I think it was still you,” Sebastian said, leaning back on the bed, resting on his palms. “But I think that your confidence comes on the moment you put on your skates. It’s you, but it’s you when you know you’re untouchable and badass. Invulnerable.”

Was it all just a total mind game after all? “So . . . you think I should put on my skates?”

“Put on the whole uniform,” he said. “We can give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I roll down the stairs and break my neck?”

“I won’t let you anywhere near the stairs. How’s that?”

Could it work? She was almost scared to try. But that quick round of heavy petting in the locker room had been so wonderful. She’d felt so alive. So normal. Utterly perfect in his arms.

She wanted to find that again. So she jumped up off the bed and raced across the room to get her derby bag.

Her uniform was sweaty and gross after playing all night, but she had another one in her closet, so she pulled out her skates and then went to the closet. Out came the teeny, tiny pleated skirt that was more ruffle than anything else. Out came the Y-backed tank-top with RAG QUEENS on it in glittering rhinestones. She thought about the shoulder pads and knee guards, but opted against them. They tended to hold onto sweat and stink.

On went the striped knee socks, and then she began to dress. She skipped the bra, letting her breasts jiggle loose and free under the uniform. And, okay, she felt a bit more confident like that, and definitely more naughty. The fabric rubbed against her nipples, reminding her that Sebastian had sucked on them earlier, and she’d loved that. She’d felt it all through her body, right down to her core.

On went the tiny ruffle of her skirt. Underneath that, she normally wore her bright yellow spankies, but on a whim, she left them off. The lack of them left the lower half of her ass bare, and her pubic hair was just barely peeking out from under the front.

“Oh, fuck, that’s sexy,” Sebastian breathed. He hadn’t left his spot on the bed, as if approaching her might somehow ruin the moment. His hands were locked tight at his side, but his gaze was riveted to her. “I approve of the wardrobe changes.”

For some reason, so did she. Putting her uniform back on was getting her back into her zone. She felt . . . sexy. Strong. She bent and laced up one skate, then the other, and then stood, hands on hips.

She felt . . . good. Like herself.

Well, herself minus bra and panties.

She skated toward Sebastian, her wheels slow on the carpet. He gazed up at her with scorchingly hot eyes, and she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

Now for the true test—another kiss.

Chelsea licked her lips nervously. God, please let this work. She moved toward him and put her hands on his shoulders. He parted his legs so she could move between them and his hands went to her hips, sliding up and down the outside of her thighs. His touch was soothing and enticing at the same time, and she slid a hand to his hair, brushing the thick, dark curls off his forehead.

He gazed up at her, and for a moment, she was breathless at how utterly gorgeous he was. How had she gotten so lucky? How had this quickie fake marriage turned into something that obsessed her and made her want more out of life? Was that weird? Did she even care? All she knew was that she wanted to be normal for herself, and for Sebastian.

And she really, really wanted sex with him. Not sex where he hammered into her and she counted tiles. Good sex, the kind where her body gleamed with sweat and her mouth locked to his and every thrust inside her felt like it was going to undo her at a soul-deep level. That kind of sex.

Because otherwise, there was no point.

Lost in thought, she smoothed her fingers over his thick brows. He’d never push her. This was all her. Sebastian? Well, he was just awesome.

How had she gotten so lucky to get him?

She leaned down and pressed a light, sweet kiss to his mouth. God, she loved his lips. Soft but firm, full and sculpted. They were perfection. With a small sigh of pleasure, she deepened the kiss, her lips moving over his. Heat began to lick through her body, her nipples responding. As he kissed her back, it turned into an even deeper, wetter, hotter kiss, until their tongues were stroking so deep into each other’s mouths that she could have sworn she felt it all the way to her clit.

“How is it?” he murmured, breaking the kiss at one point.

“Need more.” Her mouth went to his again.

He pulled back. “Is that good?”

“It’s very good,” she said, and pushed him backward onto the bed, crawling over him. Her mouth remained locked on his, kissing him wildly. God, these kisses were delicious. It was like her senses were drugged with the taste of Sebastian, the feel of his mouth against hers, his wicked, wicked tongue flicking into her mouth.

She felt like she could kiss him forever.

“Can I touch you?” he whispered against her mouth between kisses.

“God, yes. Touch me all over. Everywhere.” Her hips rocked down against him, and then she was seated, spread over his cock. The sensation against her bare, open pussy made her gasp.

“Fuck, you are so incredibly sexy.” His hands went to her ass and gripped it, dragging her against his length as she moved her hips.

“You don’t think this is weird?” She pressed hot, quick kisses to his lips, then moved on to his chin and his jaw. “Me with the skates and the uniform?”

“Are you kidding? I think I’m living out a fantasy.” His breath hissed out as she nibbled her way down his throat. “You, no panties, skates . . .”

“Kinda like a porno, huh?” She giggled, lifting her head. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“If this is what it takes to get you comfortable, I will put on a pair of skates myself.”

She chuckled and sat up. Her fingers plucked at his undershirt. “Can I get you naked?”

He studied her. “Should we go slower? Take it easy?”

Chelsea leaned down and took his lower lip between her teeth. She teased it for a moment, and when he was closing his eyes in ecstasy, she told him, “I know what the equipment looks like, Sebastian. Unless you spring a second surprise penis on me, you’re not going to shock me.”

His eyes widened. “Did I not tell you my big secret?”

She snorted and rolled off of him. “Just get naked already.”

“Your bossiness is sexy. It’s like you’re a roller-skating drill sergeant.” He stood up and pulled the wifebeater over his head, his muscles flexing in a way that made her breathless and weak.

Oh, god, another one of his bad comparisons. She couldn’t stop giggling. “Really, Basty, I’m glad you’re not a writer.”

“Ugh, that nickname.” He shuddered and dropped his boxer briefs. “I think it’s the only thing worse than Nugget.”

“Then what should I call you?” She stared at the muscles of his ass as he moved. And his cock, which was erect and bigger than she remembered. Really, she just liked staring at him.

He pretended to consider for a moment. “Stud?”