Free Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) by Rachel Blaufeld Page A

me.
    I moaned a tiny sigh into my pillow and allowed my fingers to trace my lips before dipping inside me. I’d brought myself to orgasm many times before, but I imagined it would be much different with a man deep inside me, mumbling words of love between kisses. Maybe it would be as hot as the porn movie. Not as cheesy or raunchy, but lusty and passionate.
    Between the memory of the first movie and the tentative swipe of my fingers, my heart pumped faster. As my body began to tighten and then fracture, green eyes and stubbly cheeks came to mind. Thoughts of messy blond hair floated through my rattled brain, became my focus. I wondered what it would be like to run my fingers through that hair, to weave my red-painted nails through his mussed locks.
    My breath came in short pants as visions of Blane Steele attacked every one of my cells.
    One day, a man would think of me like that. And I would attack every one of his cells with my passion for life and my smile. It was a good smile. A bright one, according to my dad.
    But that man wouldn’t be Blane Steele. I’d told him I couldn’t be responsible for fucking up his current season or upcoming deal, but the truth was I couldn’t fuck with my own heart like that.
    Even as buddies.

Catie
    F riday started with the last and final discussion of the porn fest with Stanwick. I couldn’t take another second of dissecting those movies. If we weren’t looking at still photos of the bondage one, the man whipping a tied and trapped woman, her face painted with a look of sheer ecstasy, we were chatting about the cop.
    The first gave me a pit in my stomach. I didn’t even enjoy the idea behind it or that it actually happened in bedrooms. The latter made me ache in ways I didn’t care to admit.
    When class was finished, I tried to make a beeline for the exit, but Stanwick stopped me.
    “Caterina?” she called from behind the lectern. Her voice was as uptight as her look, with her hair pulled up into a bun, small readers perched on her perfect nose, and a fitted suit hugging her lithe body.
    “Yes?” Wary, I held in place, not wanting to approach.
    “Come here, please,” she said as she beckoned me.
    Taking my time, I trudged down the stairs to the front of the lecture hall as if I were walking the plank, and I sort of was. She’d probably seen me with Blane on Tuesday night, and wanted to make an issue of it.
    “Caterina, who was that boy here earlier in the week? I called the paper and they said there was no such article, so naturally I was concerned. Fortunately, I saw the two of you leave together.”
    “Um, I tripped and ran into him—”
    “Enough of that. I know who he is. Remember, I have a son on this campus. That was Blane Steele, and I want to know how he knew where to find the movie seminar.”
    “He was curious. I don’t know him well. I ran into him and it slipped out in conversation, and then he wanted all the details.” My mouth ran like verbal diarrhea, every last detail purging straight from my lips.
    “I see. And when you left, what did he say?”
    “Honestly, not much.”
    She gave me the stink eye over her readers. “Caterina, I hope you’re not falling for that boy. I know the type, and no good can come from it. Especially for a girl like you.”
    What the heck is that supposed to mean . . . a girl like me?
    “Excuse me?”
    “You heard me. Don’t get involved. I did once, and look what it got me. A son your age and no man to help, but this isn’t about me. You have brains and the power to stay on course. Stay focused, Catie. Don’t be a lamb going to slaughter. Don’t let him ruin your life.”
    “I don’t like him like that, Professor Stanwick,” I lied. “We barely know each other. I appreciate you looking out for me, but I didn’t realize we were this close.”
    She laughed, loudly and boldly. It rang throughout the now empty lecture hall. “I see everything that goes on in my class and my department. You are my business. I’m