by Natalie Wrye
She moans as I recapture her mouth a second later, not holding back this time. Slanting my lips to slide against hers, I kiss Emily until she is putty beneath my touch, sighing softly, her breath a gasp as I sweep my fingers from my waist into her soft brown hair.
The feathery strands tickle just above her shoulder blades and I pull handfuls of them, my hands roaming from the nape of her neck to her slightly exposed hip and back again.
Leaning her head back at the tantalizing touch, she offers me access to the full cleavage at the apex of her damp sports bra and tank, and I take full advantage, dipping my head to play between her breasts, my tongue swiping out to sweep at the lightly salty skin between them.
A sigh turns into a sexy moan and I can no longer control the erection making itself very obvious from beneath my sweatpants.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, lifting my mouth before it can lower to one taut nipple poking beneath the fabric of her thin shirt. “I swear to God if we weren’t inside this gym right now, I’d bury myself so deep inside of you that I’d disappear completely.”
Her voice is a murmur when she replies. “As much as I’ve complained about it, what I wouldn’t give for an elevator right now.”
I tease her nipple with my teeth. “If only our doorman Hank could see us right now…”
“We’d be banned from the damn elevator permanently.”
But I barely hear her. I’m still internally battling with my cock as I reach one hand lower, shifting it to the side as my mouth attacks the skin at the side of her neck instead. “I know we said no hotel suite sex while here in Arizona, and I’m on board with that.” I pull back a few inches, meeting her eye. “But does putting my tongue between your thighs count? It would be like a ‘walk’ in baseball. Technically, it doesn’t count. It’s not a hit, but you’re getting on the base all the same.”
Emily’s neck straightens slowly, while she lays on the mat, her back straightening as she lazily shifts. Her eyes grow even more glazed as she looks at me.
Or maybe it’s just the heat rising from my skin.
The sensation of a slight warmth between us reminds me that Emily’s skin is still glistening from her sweat and small workout.
And the look in her eyes is the very opposite of cold, making everything inside of me turn as solid as stone. Especially when she nods, a move that makes my erection diamond-like.
I kiss her lips, ready to taste her other pair when I hear a throat clear above me, sending my gaze upwards.
My eyes find the most unexpected thing…
Sawyer.
Hovering a few feet away, an amused expression on his face. I push my body away from Emily’s.
“Fuck,” I mutter, meeting my teammate’s gaze. “Saw, what the hell are you doing back here? You came back just to bug the hell out of me some more?”
“Not at all. Came back because I need to pick up my lifting gloves. I left ‘em. Stayed because I noticed you were doing some ‘picking up’ of your own.” He grins, crossing his arms as Emily shuffles away from me. She pushes on my chest, crawling from underneath my body. I wait as she stands to her feet.
Sawyer simply stares.
“Oh don’t mind me,” he directs at Emily. “Just enjoying the show.”
“Such an asshole.” I start to say more.
I start to say anything to get Sawyer the hell out of here, but before I can make out a single coherent sentence, Emily rushes towards her gym bag, slapping the strap over her shoulder.
Stepping haphazardly back into her shoes, she hurries out, leaving me more frustrated than ever.
Two minutes ago, we were just in the process of solidifying her rules. And now I was breaking every single one of them.
I fall back on the black gym mat, no closer to figuring out how to juggle Charlie, Emily, my secrets and all the rest.
Chapter 18
EMILY
Saturday morning
I never imagined it would be this hard to be professional.
But as is the case with everything involving Sevin Smith, it’s turning out to be a hell of a lot more difficult than I thought.
Adrenaline levels through the roof, I pay the hotel sitter the second I’m back in the suite, practically chasing the woman out of the door.
After scrambling out of the hotel gym like a sixteen-year old caught with her boyfriend in her room, it takes me three cold showers before I calm down.
Not to mention one glass of coffee, a shit-ton of Sheryl Crow playing in the background and one pillow to scream into to get my rage out.
And this is all before Charlie even opens her eyes.
The bouncing ball of energy is still asleep after our late-night unexpected game of Hide-and-Seek with Felix the cat last night, and as the rose-colored sun begins to stretch over the Arizona horizon outside our hotel windows, signaling the morning to come, I wonder again if I’m the right person to take Sevin’s case.
I can barely keep my hands off the man.
His touch. His kisses. They’re still on my mind as I emerge from my hotel bedroom barefoot over the soft beige carpet, now back in my usual Armani skirt suit—my new armor for the day.
Using every ounce of “Sevin shielding” in my arsenal—even this uncomfortable business-wear, I remind myself that I’ve never had a problem being the “go-to girl.” That being dependable is part of my department.
Always has been.
I ignore the parts of me that know how much the irresistible athlete makes me want to throw caution to the wind. Cross lines I’ve never crossed. Break rules that shouldn’t bend.
I remind myself that I shouldn’t be bending anything.
Especially not my legs over Sevin’s shoulders.
And lastly, I try to tell myself that what happened much earlier this morning—getting caught by one of Sevin’s own teammates—could be worse, but as I reach for the fridge in the swanky hotel suite’s quaint kitchen, grabbing the eggs, the sight of two green eyes on the countertop makes me drop everything in my hand.
Eggshells and yolk go splattering everywhere as the green eyes shift to the floor. Felix, hunched in a ball of black fur, glances up from the tile.
I scoff out loud. “Great. You’re never around when we need you. And then you show up unexpectedly.” I sigh, crouching to the kitchen floor, sweeping up shells. “You’re like an ex-boyfriend reincarnated.”
The cat simply blinks, head tilted as I scoop runny egg matter into my palms before standing. He meows behind me as I reach for the sink.
“Don’t you have some hallway to sneak off into? More neighbors to scare? Besides this one?” I keep rinsing my hands and he doesn’t move. I sigh.
“You know I have you to partly blame for all of this.” I reach for the dish soap, washing my palms. The suds start to lather. “If you hadn’t been such a nuisance in the apartment building… Not to mention running away and forcing Sevin and I together to look for you.” I glance over my shoulder. “I mean, do you even have anything to say for yourself?”
He looks at me, big eyes wide, his pink tongue darting to lick his nose. I turn off the water. “Typical male. Silent at all the wrong times.”
I start drying my hands, and Felix, apparently feeling my ire, crawls closer, his tiny ear rubbing at my ankle. He cuddles up close, and I look down.
“Jeez, you really are a male, aren’t you? No answer for your bad behavior and now you want to make everything better with a snuggle?”
Felix licks his fur, his eyes still on me. And I can’t stop talking. “You know I’ve never been the type of person to pick up strays.” I crouch down just to rub Felix’s fur. And to my surprise, he lets me, the wayward cat staying still for once. And it feels good.
I whisper near his fuzzy ear. “And in the last week, I’ve picked up two. Three, if you count Sevin. He can be such a lost pup, licking and shitting his adorable way over everything. Making it impossible to stay mad at him. Making you feel guilty for even considering it. How an attorney like me wound u
p running some sort of kennel, I’ll never know. And I won’t be able to explain to anyone who asks. I don’t even recognize myself at this point.”
Felix purrs beneath my palms, and I feel his skin rumble. The act of petting him is more soothing than I thought, and I realize that this might be the first time I’m getting my real feelings out.
Feelings I’ve kept bottled away from everyone. Even Ben.
I keep stroking the soft kitten’s fur, hating myself a little bit.
“I guess you’re not all that bad.” I smile, suddenly teary-eyed. “At least you keep Charlie company. That’s gotta count for something.” I pause, scared to say the next part. “And she’s not the only one who needs company. Felix…”
I scratch my nails under his soft ear. “Would you believe me if I said it’s been a while? A while since I’ve let anyone get close? Since I’ve wanted to? Sevin’s been the first man I’ve ‘let in’ in a while. And if I have to admit it…”
I let the dark kitten sidle up to my Armani, no longer caring about the skirt suit’s appearance—a rarity. The tears in my eyes start to spill. “Ben was right. He was too right. The only thing I’ve taken to bed in over a year is a legal brief. I’m more concerned with ‘playing it safe’ than ‘playing it fun.’ And I am married to my career, and sometimes even that isn’t faithful to me.” I sniffle, rubbing my nose. “I mean, what if Sevin is like all the rest? What if he’s worse?” I stop, my fingers falling dead against Felix’s fur. “And what if I just can’t risk that?”
For the first time since I’ve been talking to the silent circle of fuzz, he meows, glancing up at me.
If cats could talk, I’d swear this one would, but then my phone rings, and any Dr. Dolittle the cute kitty was going to pull disappears instantly.
I reach for my cell, clearing my throat to answer. I wipe a tear. “Yes, Emily speaking?”
“Emily?” Her voice is strong even this early in the morning. And it’s as if a day hasn’t passed between us. I stand to my bare feet. “Violet?”
“You say my name like it’s been plastered all over milk cartons. I haven’t exactly risen from the dead.”
“It feels like it. I thought for sure my next call from this line would be about your funeral, you’ve been gone so much.”
I hear the sound of husky laughter over the phone, the smooth sultry voice of Violet Keats filling the kitchen around me with its warmth. My old friend (and boss) giggles, a rarity from the old version of her I once knew. She sighs.
“I’m a new mother, Em. I’m half-dead most of the time, so you’re not too far off in your assessment.”
I grin. “How is our little bundle of joy?”
“Big,” she comments plainly. “And bad as hell. He’s gotten so fussy in these last few weeks. Won’t even take my nipple by mouth anymore.”
“Good thing he has a father who doesn’t have a problem with that.” I glance at my watch, trying not to freak out over the time. “And Heath? How’s Mr. Perfect doing?”
“You mean the dutiful dad? Still over the moon. You’d think eight months later that the newness of fatherhood would have worn off by now, but nope. He’s just as in love with Fitz now as the day the little chubster was born.”
I loved to hear Violet’s new baby boy’s name. Loved its Old World simplicity.
Heath’s father Fitzgerald Sparrow had still been alive when they’d named the baby boy after him, and Violet’s description of the look on the prestigious lawyer’s face when he found out had even a serious love cynic like me swooning.
I’d been named after my own Persian, cosmic force of a grandmother Emagine—a name meaning “image” of her mother, and some days, if I concentrated hard enough in a Chicago taxi’s noisy back seat, I could hear her soothing voice, rich with experience, heavy with the burden of raising her strong family.
I close my eyes, shutting back the second round of tears threatening to spring forth. The digital time in the corner of my cell phone warns me of the time.
Time I need to get ready for Sevin’s afternoon game.
“Well, that’s amazing to hear, Vi,” I finally manage to respond to Vi on the line. “So tell me: What else is new?”
“Besides aching nipples, a sexually insatiable husband and a hungry baby? Looking for a new house. The one I’m in is covered in too many bodily fluids.”
I raise an eyebrow, clutching the phone close. “From the baby or the husband?”
Violet laughs out loud. “Ugh, gross, Em. I really didn’t need to hear that right now. Every time I even think about laughing, my boobs leak an extra ounce of milk.”
“Saves on your grocery bill, I’m sure.”
“Seriously, though.” Her laughs taper to a soft sigh. “We’ve gotta get out of Heath’s bachelor pad Manhattan apartment and into something more worthy of a family…”
I pause, wondering how the hell this phenomenal woman manages to have it all, an impossibility as far as I’m concerned.
My former boss was a walking unicorn.
A no-nonsense lawyer in post-divorce mode, she’d allowed me to stay at her pre-divorce Chicago apartment when she’d meet Heath Sparrow, the CEO of her firm and the man of her dreams, and in some ways, I’d felt as if I’d transitioned into her life. The dream life of a corporate lawyer, rising from the ranks of the lowly secretary I used to be in New York.
Living in a luxury high-rise apartment.
It had all felt like a fantasy.
But slowly the shiny facade was starting to fade.
Because unlike Violet, I certainly am no longer closer to having it all. I can barely juggle my attraction to Sevin and my job.
And the fear that I could lose either—one which was well on its way and one that hadn’t really started—is enough to paralyze me to the spot.
I lean against the kitchen counter, sighing out loud. “You make it sound so easy…”
“I make what sound so easy?”
“Family. Friends. Love. Law. You make it sound like a walk in the park.”
“Are you kidding?” Her throaty voice is incredulous, heavy with disbelief. “Taking care of all those things at once is a walk in the park all right… If the park was full of needles, covered in acid and dipped in ants.” She snorts, the sound sharp against my ear. She inhales a second later. “Em, none of this is easy. Taking care of a family. Having a career. Running a business and a baby. It’s not easy. It’s not supposed to be. And I don’t try to make it, either.”
I frown. “But I don’t get it… How do you keep your life from slipping into chaos?”
The question makes her laugh. And I don’t mean giggle-cutesy-laugh. I mean, wholehearted belly laugh. Laugh from her toes, up her stomach and through her throat sort of laughter.
And I instantly feel ashamed of asking. But I press ahead. “What? What’s so funny about that, Violet?”
Her laughter trails into good-natured titters, her voice a breath. “It’s funny, Emily. Because it’s something that all ambitious women ask…right before they enter the chaos themselves. I don’t try to keep myself from slipping into chaos. I swim in it. There’s no use in fighting against the tide, chica. Chaos is coming. Whether we women like it or not. All change is chaos. But there’s beauty in it. There’s beauty in embracing the madness. In letting it take you away. The key is to give yourself a freaking break. Take a break. Mess up and make mistakes. And if all else fails, surround yourself with people who will swim in the chaos beside you.” Her words lapse, a hush falling over the phone. “That’s assuming you’re looking for someone to navigate the chaotic waters with you… And I’m guessing that you are?”
I consider for a second that maybe Vi knows the answer to that question already, and a piece of me—the piece of me that wants to (as Ben put it) “see how good a little chaos can taste”—is tempted to ask her that when my phone is interrupted by an incoming call, cutting through my thoughts.
I glance at the black screen, balking when I see the name imprinted there.
My boss. The current one.
Stephan Knight.
After saying a mouthful of goodbye’s to Violet, thanking her for everything, I switch mental lanes to pick up Stephan’s call, my heart skipping a dangerous beat as the line clicks over.
His voice is the first thing I hear. “Emily.”
“Yeah, uh, hi, Stephan.” Fear clogs my throat, and I clear it. “It’s good to hear from you. What’s up?”
I try to keep the call light, but I fail. And Stephan knows it.
His voice is as hard as nails.
“What’s up?” He repeats after me. “What’s up is that we need a meeting. As soon as you’re settled back in Chicago… As in tomorrow night. There’s been some news.”
I clutch the phone closer. “In Sevin’s case?” I hesitate, nearly biting my tongue. “Is it bad?”
Stephan exhales, and the sound itself is scary. But my thoughts are on Sevin. Is everything okay?
“News is not good or bad. It’s just news. It is what it is. And we can’t change it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Emily. And don’t be late.”
Translation?
“I’m not asking you to have a meeting with me. I’m telling you. And yes, this news is bad or I would have said otherwise.”
Unfortunately for me, bad news is Stephan’s forte. He’s built a business on it, for God’s sake.
And if Violet is right, and chaos is indeed coming, then Sevin has no idea what’s likely coming his way. And he doesn’t know about Finley.
I know I have to warn him.
If only Felix’s eyes weren’t on me, judging me from the tiled floor.
I pick the fur ball up, getting ready for this afternoon’s game and the storm that I know is on its way.
Chapter 19
SEVIN
Saturday afternoon
The steam from the locker room is hot on my skin. But it’s nothing compared to Coach’s wrath after our loss.