It’ll take longer to find a good fit. I know I can work well with Lance. We were teammates for years and workout partners after graduation until our schedules became too disconnected to make it work anymore.
Maybe if we’re working together, we can start doing that again too.
Hannah pats my chest and steps back, gathering her purse and the pan before giving me a big smile. “Let’s go.”
When we arrive at Lance and Abby’s, we’re greeted by the energetic whirlwind that is Megan. She squeals when we walk in the door, yelling, “Matty!” and launching herself at me.
Laughing, I catch her in a hug. “Still trying to make that nickname stick, huh?”
She pulls back, her dark eyes sparkling with good humor. “Always.” A little more calmly, she turns to Hannah, takes the dish from her hands and passes it to Abby, then holds out her arms wide before wrapping them around Hannah in a big hug. “Oh my god, you guys. I haven’t seen you in so long!”
Hannah returns the hug with a smile. “You should get over here more.”
Megan pulls back with an arched eyebrow and a dismissive noise. “And when’s it your turn to come visit me?”
“Convince Chris get us good tickets, and we’ll be sure to make the trek,” I put in.
Her smile turns a little false. “Ha. Yeah. Okay, sure. Because that’s the only reason you’ll come visit? To get good seats at a football game? He can’t even play right now.”
Her reaction has my brows drawing together. “He said he wasn’t hurt that bad and would be back in fighting shape in no time. Was he just blowing smoke up my ass?”
Megan sighs, her head tilting from side to side. “I think that’s more wishful thinking on his part. He maybe should’ve had surgery. Depending on how the rehab goes, he might still need surgery. We’re in wait-and-see mode right now. It was a bad hit, and he doesn’t like to admit how serious it really was. The power of positive thinking, and all that. Which I’m all for. But not at the expense of reality.”
“Oh,” is all I manage to say. Chris had shrugged it off like it was no big deal when we talked after the game where he got injured. Said he’d be out a few weeks, probably. I was kind of surprised that he was going to be coming for Coach Hanson’s retirement party at all. I figured he’d be playing again by now.
I guess that explains that.
Megan turns back to Hannah, pulling her into the room. “So, let’s talk Christmas party. I know it’s going to be at your place, but I need more details. And what can we help with?”
Hannah takes off her coat as she answers Megan’s question about the Christmas party we’re hosting while everyone’s in town, and Lance approaches me, a smile on his face. “Just like old times, huh? Megan coming in and commandeering everything how she likes it.”
I laugh and drape my coat over the back of a chair, following his gaze to where the three women are deep in planning, phones in hand, thumbs flying over tiny keyboards. “Did you expect anything less?”
“Not at all.” He turns back to me. “How are you? Do you want a drink? Beer? Water? Abby has wine to go with dinner.”
“Beer’s good for me.” I follow him into the kitchen, looking around and admiring the finishing touches they’ve put on the place and the Christmas decorations—the tree in the corner, red and green and gold bauble ornaments hanging overhead in the doorway to the kitchen, a snowman candle on the counter. Last time I was here, there were still boxes stacked in corners. “I see you’ve finally moved in all the way.”
He chuckles, popping the cap off a beer with the bottle opener he pulls from a drawer and passing it to me before opening one for himself. “Yeah. Abby had a bunch of projects all in a row right after we moved in, then her mom had to get reevaluated for her social security benefits, so that required a lot of Abby’s time taking her to and from appointments and helping her fill out the paperwork, plus extra time helping her with the usual day to day stuff because the extra stress of the reevaluation made it impossible for her to function at the level she normally does.” He shrugs. “The first three months after we moved were the worst. And she’s particular about certain things and didn’t want me unpacking her stuff, otherwise she said she’d never be able to find anything. So it took her a while to get up the energy to finish, but things have calmed down, her mom’s doing better, so Abby’s doing better.” His face grows serious. “She’s started seeing a therapist too. It’s been helpful.”
My eyebrows jump at that revelation. “That’s good.” Lance doesn’t usually share a lot of Abby’s personal stuff. She’s very private. I know her mom has health problems and needs a lot of help, but I don’t really know details, because Lance always shrugs and says it’s Abby’s story to tell. And as much as I like Abby, she and I have never been close enough for me to feel comfortable prying her life story out of her. What I know, I’ve pieced together from the tiny bits of information like this one that have slipped out over the years.
The girls drift into the kitchen, a loud ball of chatter and laughter, and Lance and I move to the dining table to get out of their way. Abby offers drinks all around, and then pulls a pan of lasagna out of the oven.
She cuts it into pieces, stuffs a spatula down the side, and sets out a stack of plates on the counter next to it. “Alright. We won’t fit comfortably around the table with five of us, so we’re doing this buffet style. There’s salad and dressing here,” she gestures to the large silver bowl overflowing with greens and the smaller bowls of salad toppings arrayed next to it plus two choices of salad dressing, “and Hannah brought dessert. Dig in!”
Lance and I hang back, letting the women serve themselves first, which they do without hesitation, Abby gesturing for Megan and Hannah to go first. When she turns to us, Lance waves his hand at her. “Go ahead. We can wait two more minutes for you to serve yourselves.” She gives him a pretty smile before picking up her plate.
Should I ask Lance about working for me now? I fidget with my beer bottle, turning it around and around on the table. Or should I wait until after dinner?
With an eyebrow raised, Lance glances from my beer bottle to my face. “You that hungry?”
I force out a laugh. “Something like that.”
He waves for me to head for the food. “Dig in.”
Suppressing my sigh, I stand and do that, annoyed with myself for not taking advantage of the opportunity when I had it. Asking him while the girls are off planning and talking would’ve been the perfect time. I don’t really want to ask in front of an audience.
Maybe I’ll get the chance after dinner.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hannah
“Matty looks nervous,” Megan whispers, leaning in close to me. “Is he planning to propose and wants Lance’s help, do you think?”
With a snort and a roll of my eyes, I shake my head, my mouth full of salad. “No,” I manage after I swallow. “That’s not it.”
Megan wrinkles her nose. “What? You still haven’t managed to lock that down?”
Abby chokes on her wine. “Are you serious, Megan? You’re one to talk.”
Waving a dismissive hand, Megan puts her nose in the air. “You’re assuming that I want to get married,” she says airily. “I’m not sure that’s for me.”
Abby points at me with her fork. “And who says Hannah wants to get married? They’ve been living together for, what?” She looks at me. “Four years?” I nod. “Maybe they’re perfectly content with their life as it is.”
With a shrug, Megan scoops a bite of lasagne into her mouth. “Fine. Good point.” She moans as she eats another bite. “I’m probably going to regret eating this later, but it’s so good.”
I look over Megan’s trim form. She looks the same as always. Is she on a diet for some reason? But she doesn’t respond to my quizzical look, and if she wants to lose weight, who am I to judge? Maybe she and Chris are planning a winter trip to a tropical island and she wants to look awesome in her bikini.
Or, hell, maybe she’s pr
ojecting, and they’re going to elope, or she’s already engaged and not telling anyone since her husband is a pro football player with a certain amount of media attention, so she’s watching her calories so she looks great in her wedding dress.
With a shrug, I take a bite too. “This is really good, Abby,” I say around a mouthful of pasta, molten cheese, and tomato sauce.
Smiling, Abby ducks her head. “It’s store bought. But thanks.”
Matt and Lance enter the room, settling on the floor across the coffee table from where Megan and I sit on the couch. Abby’s in the armchair, balancing her plate on her lap. “Well, ladies,” Lance says. “How is it?”
“Soooo goooood,” moans Megan, sounding positively pornographic.
Abby and I exchange a glance and a smile at her antics.
“Too bad Chris is missing out on that little performance,” Matt grumbles.
Lance quirks his eyebrows. “You don’t think he hears that on the regular?”
Matt chokes on his food and covers his mouth with his napkin, his eyes closed as his shoulders shake with laughter. “I know he does,” he wheezes. “Because I used to hear it on the regular too. Man, the walls in that house are thiiiin. I always had to go to bed when they did unless I wanted an audio show.”
I bite my cheek, trying to stifle my giggles.
“Mmmhmm,” Megan says, all attitude. “And you and Hannah were soooo quiet and discreet.”
My cheeks blaze, but I just meet Matt’s eyes, which are liquid with lust.
“I see everyone’s relationships are still going strong,” Megan says primly, breaking the spell of the moment.
Lance laughs. “Quite.” He sips his beer, his eyes still on Megan. “How’s Chris’s shoulder?”
I’m not sure if he was trying to bring down the mood with that question, but it certainly has that effect. Megan shrugs. “Oh, you know. It’s getting there. He’s working with his PT pretty much every day. He’s worried about taking too much time off coming here, but he also really wants to come, so …”
“Makes sense,” Lance murmurs, and Matt nods.
Matt meets my eyes again, that same look of liquid heat in his eyes. And suddenly, despite how much I was looking forward to getting out of the house and seeing my friends, I can’t wait to get home again and explore all the devious imaginings inspiring Matt’s expression. I give him a slow smile that he returns.
Oh, yes. Tonight is shaping up to be the best night I’ve had in a while.
Matt opens the door to our house, the same house he’s been living in since before we met, and holds it for me, smacking my ass with a resounding slap as I walk past him. Stripping off my coat, I sashay my hips as I walk into the living room, casting a glance over my shoulder to catch the hungry look on Matt’s face before he closes the door and turns the deadbolt.
A shiver of anticipation races down my spine.
Hanging with our friends is always fun, and having Megan back in the mix makes for lively conversation as everyone trades good-natured digs. But Matt’s been flirting with me all night, teasing me by grazing his hand over my ass when no one was looking or sliding his hand between my thighs when I sat in his lap. Sure, it started off innocent enough, with his hand gripping my leg just above my knee. But he moved higher and higher while we all talked and laughed until he was indecently close to my crotch right there in front of everyone, which had the perverse effect of making me even more wet.
Of course I’d given it right back to him, grinding on his dick as much as possible while I sat in his lap, rubbing up against him when we went to the kitchen for seconds and the Scotch oat bars I made for dessert. Oats and butter and brown sugar and chocolate makes for a treat no one can resist, and the pan was empty by the time we left.
Now it’s time to follow through on all that teasing.
Matt crosses the living room in three large steps, dropping his jacket on the couch and wrapping his arms around me as he takes my mouth in a kiss. One hand grips and kneads my ass. “Part of me wants to bend you over and turn your ass bright red, but the rest of me just wants to fuck you hard and fast right fucking now.”
I let out a low, sexy chuckle. “What’s the rush?”
He grinds his dick against my belly. “I’ve been aching to be inside you for what feels like years.”
Poking out my lower lip in an exaggerated pout, I reach between us and rub him through his jeans. “Awww, poor baby. Did all your teasing backfire?”
Another growl sounds in his chest, vibrating against mine as he pulls me even closer, my hand now pinned on his dick by the press of our bodies. “I don’t think so.” Then he kisses me again, his tongue sliding into my mouth as his hips move, rubbing himself against my hand.
I end the kiss this time, sliding down to my knees without letting go of him. Leaning forward, I kiss his dick where it strains against the fabric, and he shivers at the contact. “Hannah,” he says, his voice gravel, my name somewhere between a benediction and a curse.
His supple leather belt pulls smoothly out of the buckle, and I briefly consider asking him to use it on me tonight. But that might have to wait until later. Because I’m worked up enough that I don’t want to drag this out for too long either. Not right now, anyway.
The button slides easily through its hole and then I’m dragging his zipper down as slowly as I can, each click of the teeth an agonizing tick ratcheting up the anticipation for what comes next.
Matt curses as I spread the denim open then reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling out and down till his cock springs free, right in front of my mouth.
Now I waste no time, licking up and down the shaft before sucking the head into my mouth and circling it with my tongue.
Matt’s hand finds its way into my hair, and I love doing this for him. The connection. The joy of giving him pleasure. How grateful he is for it, and how he shows his gratitude afterward.
I just love him.
He starts moving his hips, shallow jabs into my mouth, and I wrap my hand around the base of him to make sure he doesn’t accidentally go too far. I’ve been working on taking him deeper, but with a belly full of food, tonight’s not the night to push my limits.
Soon his hand tightens in my hair, and he pulls free of my lips. I sit back on my heels and look up at him. Bending, he cups my face and kisses me deeply. I’m lost in his kiss, my hands gripping his wrists as my only anchor.
He pulls me to my feet and lifts my top. I raise my arms so he can pull it off then reach behind me to undo my bra. His hands immediately go to my naked breasts, brushing the nipples with his thumbs, priming them for his mouth. He takes his time sucking on each one, raising it to a hard, shiny peak. When he’s done, he studies my nipples, letting out a soft grunt of satisfaction.
My pants and thong come off next and Matt bends me over the back of the couch and nudges my legs apart with his knee. His hand runs down my spine and over my ass, a gesture of affection that he follows up with a sharp slap to my right ass cheek.
I let out a soft cry of surprise, relishing the spreading heat after the initial sting that he rubs into my cheek. Then he slaps the other cheek, following it up the same way.
“God, I love having you like this,” he murmurs. “Bent over. Ready and waiting for whatever I want to do to you. It’s always been the best high.”
I wiggle my ass, tempting him to spank me some more. He obliges with two more quick slaps, and then the broad head of his crown nudges against my opening. We both groan as he slides inside me.
“Always so wet for me,” he says, his hands gripping my hips as he rocks into me slowly.
“Always,” I confirm.
“I love you so fucking much, Hannah.” His pace increases.
“I love you too, Matt.”
He bends forward, his chest against my back, his hands sliding up my rib cage to cup my breasts as he pounds into me hard and fast, just like he promised. I arch into his grip, angling my hips so that each stroke hits me the way I need.
“That’s right, Hannah. Let me feel you come on my cock,” he whispers in my ear. My whole body draws up tight at his words, and seconds later all that tension releases in an explosion of sparks dancing across my skin, my muscles convulsing around him.
He growls out his encouragement, his hips losing their rhythm as he rides me through my orgasm and into his own.
Once he’s spent himself inside me, he stays for a moment, turning my head so he can kiss me, slow and sweet, the perfect juxtaposition of Matt’s contrasting sides—rough and dirty sandwiched between moments of exquisite tenderness. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
CHAPTER FIVE
Layla
A zip of nerves sends my pulse racing as Evan parks in front of Daniel and Elena’s house, the warm amber glow of the porch light a welcoming beacon in the dark, drizzly evening. It’s after five, I have to pee, and I’m hungry. Daniel told Evan that they’d make dinner, so all we’ve had are random road trip snacks.
It’s been over three years since we’ve been back in Spokane, and even though Evan and Daniel still talk regularly, my friendship with Elena has been relegated to the surface-level social-media-only former acquaintances kind of relationship. We interact with each other’s photos and posts, but we don’t regularly chat. So staying at their house has me feeling wrong-footed, even though the invitation was enthusiastic from both of them, and I appreciate the cost savings of not needing to get a hotel.
Evan turns off the car and reaches in the backseat for our jackets. Once we struggle into them in the confines of the car, he leans over and gives me a kiss, his lips soft and reassuring. When he ends the kiss, he touches his forehead to mine. “They’re our friends, babe. They’re happy we’re here.”
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