Just as his second had.

Her chuckle had removed his last shred of restraint.

Closing the distance between them, he’d placed a hand on either side of her face and tasted her smiling lips. Just a brief touch, a flick of a tongue, nothing that should have overshadowed his usual distaste for public displays of affection. Such banal behavior was never necessary, but to his surprise he’d found it, oh, so pleasurable.

Her humor had melted beneath the heat of their connection and her tongue had begun a teasing dance of its own. He’d stopped hearing the blaring background music, stopped listening to the inner voice that warned him that he was losing control. He’d kissed her until her arms had curled around his neck, until her back had arched to press her closer to him, and until her breathing had become as hot and ragged as his.

Eventually the hoots of encouragement and echoing catcalls from players in other lanes had registered and Jake had ended the kiss. Heart pounding in his chest, he’d mentally scrambled to regain his decorum, but his body had continued to betray him by not releasing her.

Achieving his level of power and success so quickly meant that he spent most of his time in boardrooms with people almost twice his age. Around Lil, he’d felt impulsive and younger. Leaning in for one final taste of her lips, he’d whispered against them, “Your turn,” and had chuckled at how quickly her bemusement had been replaced by ire.

She’d spun away, picked up her ball, and presented him with her tempting ass and an over-the-shoulder smirk before strutting to the lane.

Game on.

Back in his New York townhouse, Jake adjusted his already straight tie, and donned a charcoal, Brioni pin-striped jacket. Not many would get his subtle clothing humor, but recently he’d purchased a few of the suits that were famous for their James Bond affiliation. As he smoothed the perfectly tailored shoulders, he dismissed Lil as the reason he’d decided to walk on the wilder side of business attire.