by Max Monroe
I wasn’t sure I completely understood their conversation, but I knew it was about me, so I rubbed on some middle-finger ChapStick and then watched as my finger bird flew away in their direction. They just smiled and chuckled to themselves like a couple of clucking goddamn hens.
“Oh, yay!” Cassie squealed as the waitress leaned over to set a full tray of neon shots in the center of the table.
“Fuck, Cass. What level of unconscious are you trying to make me achieve? Almost dead or completely there?”
“They’re not just for you. They’re for everyone.”
“Um, no,” Georgie denied immediately. “I’m ridiculous when I’m drunk.”
Every single head at the table started shaking.
Kline laughed. “You drunk is probably one of the best things ever invented, Ben.”
Every single head at the table changed direction and nodded enthusiastically.
“Come on,” I urged her with a smirk. “You can’t let me do this alone.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re my boss!”
“Oh, okay,” I teased, raising my hands in mock surrender. “Drinking with the boss is bad, but sleeping with him is all good.”
“I’m not sleeping with you!” she nearly yelled, and we all laughed as Kline pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulders. Realization dawned as she tipped her head back to look at his face.
Not this boss. That boss.
“Ah, fuck,” she breathed in defeat.
Winnie laughed loudly, and I couldn’t help but watch again. Her face was open, amused, and relaxed, and I felt satisfaction from the knowledge that she hadn’t had this not too long ago, before taking the job with the Mavericks. She’d been working eighty-hour weeks with no downtime whatsoever and taking care of a young daughter on her own.
She’d been a doctor and a mom, but tonight, she was free to be just a woman.
An unbelievably sexy woman.
“Take the shots already!” Cassie complained.
“All right, all right,” Georgie grumbled. “Calm your spawn, for fuck’s sake.” She reached forward and handed us each a shot. I honestly didn’t even know what I was getting ready to swallow, but I was too ready to get it over with to care. “Bottoms up, kids.”
“To the baby,” Winnie toasted cheekily, and I laughed. Only a Kelly baby would have a toast before shots dedicated to it in utero.
“To the baby,” we all recited dutifully, and then tipped our rainbow-colored glasses back as one. The green, apple-flavored liquid burned a little as it slid down my throat, but it went easily otherwise.
Winnie coughed and sputtered a little around her yellow one, choking out, “Lemon,” as I rubbed a hand across her back soothingly.
Just as I started to relax, the waitress returned with a second tray.
“What the fuck?” Kline asked Cassie.
She shrugged shamelessly. “Four more rounds coming, Big-dick. Saddle up.”
“Smooth Criminal” played over the speakers of the pub’s sound system as I danced and pulled Winnie deeper into my arms. After five rounds of shots, we were all feeling pretty relaxed, me more so than the rest. Winnie hadn’t been able to handle past number three, and thanks to tears and a tantrum from a pregnant woman, I added her two to my five.
Considering how drunk I was, math wasn’t exactly my specialty at the moment, but I knew that made way more alcohol than I’d consumed at one time in over a decade.
“Winnie, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, Winnie?” I sang, slightly altering the song as I swayed our hips back and forth together. She laughed and held on as I spun us around and made the room blur. I’d been singing along to every song that came on, and I was probably having more fun than I’d ever had before.
Her skirt seemed to be getting shorter by the second, a helpful trick of my unbelievably turned-on imagination, and her hair fell around her face in loose waves. Her lips were bare and her eyes were open, and I only wished I’d been sober enough to understand what I was seeing inside them.
As Paula Abdul started to warn of a coldhearted snake, I glanced to the jukebox to see Kline and Thatch hovering near it in a nearly hysterical fit of glee. But I was feeling too good, and Winnie was feeling even better in my arms, so instead of retreating into my shell, I sang to Winnie and told her to look into his eyes as I held hers with my own, and then ordered her not to play the fool.
When I asked if she thought he thought about her while he was out, I knew everything in my body said I thought about her all the goddamn time.
“Win,” I groaned into the skin of her neck, touching just the tip of my tongue to the salt of her dewy-from-dancing skin.
She pulled away just enough to look me right in the eye and promise everything I was too stupid to ask for.
“Come on, Paula,” she said with a smile that made my knees feel weak. “We’ll go to my place. It’s a very short walk from here.”
My head spun as I thought of all the things her house meant. Good things like beds and sex and the smell of her fucking everywhere, and bad things like having way less control than I was used to and innocent ears and the distinct possibility that I was going to be spending more than a small portion of my morning with my head close to a bowl of water no head should ever be close to.
“We can’t go back to your house!” I said loudly. I might not have noticed had she not shushed me with a small giggle and light, unburdened eyes, but that look wasn’t something any sane male would miss—drunk or not.
“Little Lexi will sniff me out in a second.” Realization of how my conversations with Winnie’s daughter normally went sent me into near panic. “I’ll never be able to pass her tests drunk! I can barely pass when I’m sober,” I admitted.
Winnie looked like she was trying not to laugh, but even more than that, she looked like she already was. Apparently, I’d become endlessly amusing.
“She’s not there,” she assured me.
And, thanks to my sluggish, impaired state of my mind, I only wondered why I was disappointed for a second.
It was a little after one in the morning when I unlocked my front door and gestured for Wes to follow me inside. After a long day of rugby and drinking—and a full week of work before that—I should have been exhausted.
The funny thing about football with a professional team was that it was both a marathon and a sprint, and this was the first Saturday I’d had off since I started. The rest of the schedule was pretty much the same, but when it came to the weekend of a bye week, apparently, it was time to let your hair down and relax. Because, come Monday, it would be time to make a mad dash to the end. Especially since we had a Thanksgiving game this Thursday.
I set my purse and keys on the table in the foyer and watched Wes walk through the small entryway and toward the living room. His eyes roamed my home, not judging or assessing, just taking in all of the details that made up my space. I wasn’t much of a decorator, furnishing with a simple sectional sofa and pictures of Lex and me and my family. I’d never had time to acquire a whole bunch of knickknacks. I hadn’t worked less than a sixty-hour week in my entire career.
Wes walked the line of my couch and over to the mantle, touching a sweet picture of Lexi’s face turned up into the sun with one tentative finger.
“So, this is it,” I said with a shrug, a little uncomfortable with his quiet observation.
He hummed thoughtfully. “More than a drive-by this time,” he added, and I tilted my head in confusion.
“My last visit was quick, remember?”
“Yeah,” I said with a small, slightly embarrassed smirk, thinking about how I’d kicked him and Remy out before they could fully engage in a modern-day battle of wills…or fight to the death. The latter had probably been the most accurate.
“It’s great, Win. And, quick visit or not, I noticed the first time.” His voice was soft and measured, and I tried to live comfortably in the compliment rather than analyzing it.
“Thanks.” He nodded an
d turned back to the mantel, the cotton of his shirt stretching along the hard lines of each muscle. He found a picture of my mother and me, wrapped up in each other and smiling like nothing in the world could touch us at my college graduation. For her, she’d succeeded in raising me all the way into womanhood on her own, and for me, I had the whole world laid out thoughtfully in front of me. I still felt that way about life, but I’d also learned a few things along the way. Plans shift and your definition of happiness will change; you just have to go with it.
“You look just like your mother,” he whispered, and a part of me tingled at how intimate this whole discussion felt. These pictures—and the people in them—were the foundation of who I was.
“Thank you,” I said again—and I meant it. My mother was a stunning woman, inside and out. I couldn’t think of anything more flattering than being likened to her. “But you don’t need to whisper, remember? Lexi isn’t here.”
He nodded, but the volume of his voice barely changed at all. I wondered if he felt as vulnerable as I did or if it was something else. “Where is she tonight?”
“She’s staying at Remy’s for the night.”
His mouth tipped into a slightly tipsy grin. “So, it’s just us.”
He’d been so careful with his words and manner before, I’d actually almost forgotten just how much alcohol we’d consumed. But the effects were starting to dull as time bled the buzz from our systems, and all that was left was freedom from inhibition. For me, it meant a looser tongue and an unlocked door on my carefully crafted cage, and for Wes, it meant a playdate with his lighthearted side.
And God, playful Wes was so endearing. I wanted to eat him with a spoon.
I smirked. “It’s just us.”
“What are we going to do with all this alone time, Win?” he asked cheekily, a glint of mischief in his eye. I felt a shiver run down my spine. His eyes were like a fucking arousal superpower. Pussy Power, activate!
Desperate to get my bearings, I looked down at my feet for a brief moment. Of course, with the hum of his powers and the alcohol freely flowing through my bloodstream, all that did was give me time to imagine how nice it would be to see what Wes’s hard, sexy body looked like wet. “Want to get in the hot tub?”
“You have a hot tub?” The corner of his mouth curved into a naughty smile.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “It’s on the back deck.”
He immediately started slipping off his shoes and unbuckling his belt…in the middle of my living room. I watched, transfixed on his every move and frozen in place, as he reached behind his neck to pull his shirt over his head and yanked his belt from its loops. The metal buckle clanked as it landed on the wood of my floor, but I couldn’t look down. A firm stomach and golden skin and the slight hint of a happy trail made my swallow rough with anticipation.
It was a slow climb to the top, but when I finally made it back up, his eyes held mine shamelessly. The button of his jeans pulled free with a pop, and I finally found my voice.
“So…I take it your vote is yes?” I asked on a laugh.
Forgoing words, he answered with a wink and a nod and continued to disrobe. I watched in fascination as he pulled his keys and wallet and cell phone out of his pockets and set them on an end table and pushed his jeans to the floor. One foot and then the next, he stepped out of the pooled fabric and kicked it gently to the side.
And then he was standing in nothing but his boxer briefs.
Just his boxer briefs.
Holy hell.
I could see the outline of his cock through the black cotton material, and to put it simply, he looked obscene. Sweet Christ, I had the urge to cover my eyes with my hand, but it would have been fruitless—I could already imagine myself peeking through my fingers.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed as I sat there, ogling the fuck out of him, mentally tracing the veins and licking my lips, but he had to clear his throat to bring my attention back to his face. “Win? Hot tub?”
I nodded but didn’t move. Somebody needed to call the fucking police because this asshole was concealing a goddamn billy club in his pants. I hated to be this predictable, but…how in the motherfuck had that thing fit inside of me so many times?
“Are you going to change?”
“Change?”
No. No. No. Let’s not change anything. I was just spit-balling. I’m sure I can make you fit. Fucking double sure.
“Your clothes, sweetheart. Are you going to change your clothes?” he asked with an amused grin. “I’m crazy about those boots, but I have a feeling they might not be so great in the water.”
I glanced down at my clothes dumbly, almost as if I was floating outside of myself, and realization finally sunk in. “Oh,” I muttered, and if my cheeks hadn’t already been rosy from the numerous shots Cassie had pushed on me, they sure as hell would’ve been then. “Right. Just give me a second to change into a bathing suit.”
His lips crested into a devilish smile. “You know I won’t mind if you go without…”
Jesus. Playful Wes was going to be the death of me. I was sure of it.
I shook my head on a laugh and turned to head to my bedroom. “I have neighbors. I’m putting on a bikini.”
He grabbed my hand as I passed him and tugged me back until my body hit his, his chest pressed against my back. “I’m really good with bikinis,” he whispered into my ear, and I giggled at that. He nuzzled my neck and pressed his mouth softly to a sensitive spot that he knew would spur goose bumps. I spent a lot of time pretending everything was casual, but Wes Lancaster knew my body. I could feel his lips move up into a satisfied grin against my skin.
“I think it’s safe to say you’re good at taking them off, not putting them on,” I whispered.
“I promise,” he said with a seductive hum into my skin. “If you go change right now, I’ll be good at a lot of things.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed away so that I could look him in the eye.
“Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you outside.”
Clad in my skimpiest pink bikini and fake confidence, I walked outside onto my deck, my bare feet carefully tiptoeing across the wood, and found Wes lounging comfortably in my hot tub, his arms stretched across the edges. Droplets of water shimmered in the moonlight as they slid down his firm chest and back into the water.
Oblivious to my approach, his head back and his eyes closed, he looked like a Greek god.
I honestly wasn’t sure if this was the best idea I’d ever had—or the worst. Tonight, right now, I knew it would feel good. But what had started under the assumption that a few romps would be the perfect solution for getting him out of my system had turned into an obsession. I was starting to crave him like a drug, spending all my time from one fix to the next trying to figure out how to make it happen again.
According to just about anyone who had the power of speech, Wes was not the kind of man who settled down, especially with a woman who already had a child—wasn’t even really a monogamous kind of guy. But it didn’t feel like that anymore. It felt real and deep and a little bit like I was going to feel like such a goddamn fool when it turned out a man didn’t up and change everything about himself for a woman. Because as much as I tried to warn myself of that very thing, my naïve, romantic epicenter in my chest wouldn’t stop whispering that maybe it could be that way for me.
I took a deep breath and finally started to walk again.
All things in moderation. That was the advice I had given thousands of patients, and I should have been able to follow it myself.
His eyes opened and turned to me. It was sheer absurdity how quickly I got lost in him.
Fucking shit, moderation sucked balls. I didn’t want bits and pieces of him here and there. I wanted all of him—all of the tiny details that made him the man I was so obviously falling for.
Shit, Winnie, my brain whined. This quickly? I thought you were smarter than this.
His eyes turned hooded and heated, watching closely as I cli
mbed in and slid into the water across from him. My skin prickled from the sharp change in temperature. I’d spent entirely too long outside the water doing the mental hokey-pokey.
“Come here, Win,” Wes whispered and held out his hand.
I took it without a second thought, and with a gentle tug, I was sitting in his lap, his strong arms wrapped around me and his hands softly caressing the exposed skin of my belly.
His nose brushed down my skin as he nuzzled my neck. “You always smell so fucking good,” he whispered, and my nipples immediately hardened beneath my bikini top. The tip of his tongue made a seductive path from my neck to my jaw and back to my neck again.
I moaned, any chance of holding out nullified by the direction of his hand.
It moved up my stomach, between my breasts, and kept going until his fingers cupped my chin and moved my lips toward his. He sucked at my bottom one before slipping his tongue inside to dance gently with mine.
Gentle, exploring, we were unhurried for a long time. But, eventually, the heat of his skin burned hotter than the steamy water, and the ache between my legs forced a keening cry from my desperate throat. Frantic, our tongues tangling deeper, our mouths sharing quiet moans and panting breaths, he gripped my hips and turned me around until my legs straddled his hips.
I gasped loudly as he attacked my mouth again, hunger and fire leaking from his mouth right down my throat and straight into the space between my legs. I pushed myself against him in earnest, desperate to get some relief. He broke the kiss with a groan, licking and sucking at my neck and then my chest, before his fingers slid the triangles of my bikini top to the sides and bared my breasts to the frigid air and his seductive gaze. Both made my nipples peak to a point just shy of pain.
I ground my hips into his as I pushed my breasts toward his mouth. “Please,” I begged.
He sucked a hardened nipple into his mouth and flicked at the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, and it only encouraged my hips to push harder against his thick, rigid cock.
“Please,” I begged again.