"At home."
He nodded. "See you tomorrow."
I lifted my hand and started toward Ava's office. It was only three, so I knew she was still in the building somewhere. Just that morning when I'd crawled out of her bed, she mumbled something about a meeting that would run until six, and to wait so we could have dinner together.
Every day, I saw her.
Every night for the past ten days, we’d slept in the same bed, either hers or mine.
And every time she kissed me, wrapped her arms around me, and burrowed her face into my chest, I fell further. Every time we watched Pardon the Interruption, and she argued vehemently with something Wilbon or Kornheiser said, I felt a pinch in my heart. Every time I was inside her, I knew I'd never felt anything so good.
And every time I tried to tiptoe over the invisible line in the sand, the one where we talked about the future or anything of substance in our pasts, she deftly avoided the subject.
I understood her wariness. To a point. And to a point, I knew why she was so cagey. Coming from a guy who’d been cheated on and divorced, I more than understood taking things slow. But it didn’t make it easier. Not now that I’d finally found someone I could trust, someone who made me want to fall headfirst into this feeling.
As I walked down the hallway, I felt the frustration of keeping this amazing feeling buried. My skin felt jittery and tight as I passed someone, giving them a polite smile. I just pretended I was another player going to find another employee.
Her door was barely ajar, but I could see the soft glow from her desk lamp. Rapping my knuckles on it before I walked in, she held up her finger as she finished a phone call.
She winked at me when I shut the door quietly.
"Yeah, we can make that happen," she said. Darting forward, she snagged a red notepad and scrawled something on the first page. "Uh-huh. Just make sure you email me the questions first. We don't want any surprises, do we?" She laughed. "Okay. Thanks."
Her phone hit the desk with a clatter, and she groaned as she stretched back in her desk chair.
"Busy day?" I asked her with a grin.
"Just the stupid kind of busy." She stood from the chair and came to where I was leaning against a filing cabinet, conveniently out of sight of the small window in her door. When I'd seen her that morning, she'd been rumpled and sleepy in a simple blue tank with matching shorts.
Now she was sleek Ava again, her hair pulled back in a tight knot and a bright yellow dress covering the body I loved so much. My hands found her waist, and I drew her close to me. Her grin was naughty, and I very much liked the look of it.
"You're all sweaty," she whispered. But she tilted her chin up, so it didn't bother her too much.
I kissed her, pouring all my frustration into her lips, grabbing her ass with hands that might dirty her dress, but she pressed into me instantly. I sucked her tongue into my mouth, and she whimpered before pulling back.
Ava rolled her forehead against my chest. "Lifting weights got you all worked up, huh?"
"You've got me worked up," I told her, wishing I could work my fingers into her hair, mess it up, tangle it around my fingers and pull it into a tight fist just so I could have a primal outlet for this feeling.
Worked up.
Tied into knots.
Desperate to claw away at the armor she still clung stubbornly to, and I couldn’t understand why. So badly, I wanted to wrench it away, have her show me the soft underbelly that I knew was there, and the irritation of not being able to kick-started a furious rhythm in my blood. Ava must have felt it in the flex of my fingers, the tremor of my body.
She didn't say anything; she just pulled in a slow, ragged breath. Everything I needed to know, I heard in that choppy inhalation. She wanted me too. She knew it was probably stupid to do this in her office, but she wanted me too.
Ava wrapped her fists in the neck of my shirt and dragged my mouth down to hers again. I groaned, turning us so her back was against the filing cabinet, and I could lift her higher. Her legs wrapped around my waist as I ground into her. Suddenly, I was thankful for two things—her dress and my gym shorts.
She pushed at the latter, and I yanked at the former, shoving up her dress and only taking enough time to tug her underwear to the side with impatient fingers.
Just as I was lined up and about to thrust in, she shoved a hand at my chest.
"Wait."
My hand cupped her breast, and she dropped her head back. I moved my hips forward just barely, enough that we both stopped breathing at what a tease it was.
"Is my door locked?" she whispered.
I stopped.
"Shit," I groaned. "No."
With a growl building in the back of my throat, I helped her drop her feet to the floor as I pulled my shorts up.
"Patience, big boy," she said, tapping my chest and walking on unsteady legs to press the button on her doorknob that would ensure our privacy. My hands were still gripping the filing cabinet when her phone rang.
"No," she whined. I glanced at her over my shoulder, almost laughing at the look on her face. "I just ... I have to make sure it's not Cameron. I'm waiting on something time-sensitive before I meet with him later."
At the name of our team president, I hung my head. "No problem."
When she picked up her phone and greeted him, I let out a deep breath. Guess there would be no fun to be had in the office. I turned and gave her a wry smile when she pouted.
As she spoke to Cameron, I wandered around her office, noting the brightly framed quotes, her diploma, and a picture of her and Allie from the playoffs the year before.
They both looked beautiful with wide smiles and excited eyes after a win, but my gaze stayed locked on Ava. Her cheek was pressed to Allie's, her lips the same scarlet red as the team's colors, and a look of such genuine happiness on her face that I wanted to rub at the spot over my heart.
How many people in the world got to do a job that brought such happiness?
I was one of the few, and most players felt the same. But looking at her face, I knew Ava was among that number. I had no right to it, but I felt so much pride staring at that picture, trying to reconcile her with the girl who wanted to learn poker, the girl who used to watch football with her dad and me on Sunday afternoons.
My eyes drifted down and caught on something on top a pile of papers.
I pushed aside the edge of a heavy cream envelope and seeing the name Ashley Baker-Hughes went off like a bomb in my chest. Since my back was to Ava, she didn't see me pick up the paper with a surprisingly steady hand. Nothing could kill a hard-on faster than seeing your ex-fiancee's name five minutes after you about to screw her sister senseless.
The honor of your presence
Is required at the reaffirmation of the
Wedding vows of
Adam Hughes and Ashley Baker-Hughes
There was more, a date and time, not too far in the future, and the location. Orcas Island. I knew Adam Hughes. Very well, actually.
"Oh shit," Ava whispered from beside me. She reached forward to take the invitation from me, and I let her.
"Sorry, that's what I get for snooping."
She shook her head. "You weren't snooping. I'm the one who left it out."
Everything felt tangled and weird in my chest. Of course, she'd kept this from me. We'd avoided the subject of Ashley like she was a plague that could descend on our happy bubble.
Yet I felt that familiar frustration build at the fact that I still hadn't known about it.
"Adam," she started, then cleared her throat, "he's, uh ..."
"The guy she cheated on me with," I finished. I smiled a little even though it was forced because I could tell how uncomfortable she was. "Yeah, I know. I didn't know him personally, just that he was a rich frat boy who fit her standards better."
Ava snorted. "He's a horse's ass is what he is. They're so stuffy, I could choke after five minutes around them."
That made me laugh under my brea
th. Suddenly, the frustration I'd felt at keeping this under wraps felt petulant and selfish. I wasn't the one who had to deal with Ashley or her parents. Ava was. And apparently, she had to deal with them soon.
"Are you going?" I gestured to the invite, still clutched in her hand.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
I waved that off because I understood why. Sort of. "It's fine, really."
"I wish I could bring you," she said, her voice trailing off. Then she shrugged her shoulders.
"Pretty much impossible."
"Yeah."
We both sighed. I took her hands, tossing the invite onto the floor. I didn't want anything of her family between us, literally or figuratively. Ava clutched my fingers tightly like I was a lifeline, and I reeled her in for a hug. She breathed out a sigh of relief.
"There's literally nothing on this earth I hate talking about more than my family."
I smiled into the top of her head, but it felt forced too. I wanted her to want to discuss her family with me. Even as I understood her reasoning, or tried to, it felt like one more part of her I wasn't allowed to figure out until she was ready to drop the curtain.
What if I asked her? What if I invited her to share that stuff with me because I cared, and she still said no?
I swallowed before I spoke. "Then we won't talk about it."
"Okay." Her voice was small, and I kissed her hair. "I've just gotta get through that one day, huh?"
I nodded, and her arms tightened around me. "However you need to."
Ava exhaled and tilted her chin up to me. "I can do that."
My hand cupped the side of her face, and she nuzzled into my palm.
"After that's over, we've got plenty of time to figure this whole thing out, okay?"
This time, I think we both knew that I was saying it simply to make us feel better. But she kissed me, I kissed her back, and we left Ashley lying on the floor.
Chapter Fourteen
Ava
There was just something about waking up naked in your man's bed.
Because Matthew was a huge man, his bed was in proportion. I could starfish my body, stretch my arms and legs out, and not touch the edges of the California king mattress covered by Egyptian cotton sheets in a decadent shade of gray.
I pressed my face into the memory foam pillow and grinned, fighting the urge to curl my toes and giggle. If I thought too hard about the fact he was the one screwing me senseless
every
single
day,
I'd lose my mind from sheer girly bliss. It was almost impossible to believe he was even real. The only shortcoming I could find was his absolute refusal to keep any form of processed carbohydrate in his house. In fact, even healthy gross carbs weren't there. No eighteen-grain bread or crackers with giant chunks.
Lots of meat. Lots of fruit. Lots of veggies. The occasional chocolate bar that he'd stash for me in the cupboard.
But I guess I couldn't complain about his eating habits either, I thought as my legs burned in protest when I stretched my body out. That. Body.
I almost had to fan myself. He was one of those men who worked his ass off for the body he had, and he knew how to use it.
I sat up and grinned. Yes, he did. For two weeks now, no shit, every single day, I was learning just how well he knew how to use it.
I flopped back on the bed and sighed. A note sat on the nightstand next to my pillow, and I picked it up.
Unless you made other plans, be back here at 7, wear that red dress you showed me in your closet. - M
PS- I think you reinjured my back last night. I'm too old for those kinds of positions.
I laughed, tracing my thumb along his perfectly square, neat writing. Who was he kidding? He could toss me around like a Cirque du Soleil performer and not break a sweat.
For the rest of the morning, I practically glided. I showered and got ready at his place, then made it to work early and greeted everyone I passed like I was Suzie freakin’ Sunshine, throwing veritable glitter bombs of happiness everywhere I went.
Maybe I wasn’t dating defunct after all.
Honestly, I was happy before he showed up. I loved my job, I had friends, and kept busy. But this ... it felt like a cloud burst open and dumped an entire bucket of bliss on me. I was sitting at my desk thinking about that when my phone rang.
Ashley.
"Even you can't ruin my mood today, dear sister," I said cheerily, hitting the decline button with particular cheer.
She sure tried, though. Over the next two hours, she called two more times, finally leaving a voicemail on the third attempt. For a solid ten seconds, I wondered why she wasn't leaving me the hell alone, but whatever it was could wait twenty-four hours until I was back home after whatever Matthew had planned for us.
A knock on my office door broke me out of my thoughts. The receptionist from the front desk grinned at me.
"What's up?" I asked her.
From behind her back, she produced a perfectly lovely bouquet. And not just any flowers. My favorite flowers.
Tied together with a white ribbon was a bright spray of ranunculus in pinks, oranges, yellows, and whites. A few glossy green leaves framed the outside, and I actually laid a hand on my chest when I stood to take them.
"They're so beautiful," I breathed.
She nodded. "Girl, whatever you did to deserve those, keep doing it."
I laughed, not sure what to say. Because I wasn't even positive I knew who they were from even though I hoped. Oh, I hoped.
The square white envelope tucked into the side of the flowers had me grinning in anticipation. I'd never had flowers delivered to me before. Not from anyone.
When I finally read the note, typed out in impersonal ink, I burst out laughing.
After careful consideration, I changed my mind about the positions. Even if it sidelined me, I'd risk any injury for you.
It was ridiculous and sweet, and I imagined him calling the florist, repeating that message, and my face burned hot. Ugh, why wasn't it seven already? I wanted to see him, touch him, kiss him.
Obsession. I believed they called this phase of the relationship obsession.
Feeling impulsive, I picked up my phone and dialed his number. His voicemail picked up, the generic voice letting him know his number wasn't available.
Keeping my voice low, and my back toward the slightly open door, I left my very first sex message.
"When I see you tonight, I'm going to thank you in ways that you can't even imagine, mister. That red dress you wanted me to wear? It won't stay on for long because if you don't use those hands to rip it off me, to hold me down on that big table of yours, then I'm not going to be very happy." I inhaled slowly, audibly. "Just thinking about how I'm going to use your body tonight, mmm, I can't wait to see you."
"You're having phone sex at work?" a snide voice snapped from behind me.
That voice. I pinched my eyes shut as I fumbled with my phone, praying I'd ended the message before he heard her. I took a deep breath, thanking the universe that I looked hot today. I smoothed a hand down the front of my emerald green sheath dress. The small cap sleeves made my toned arms look good, and the small black ribbon around my waist was classy and flattering. My shoes were Louboutin, the one pair I owned, and I knew she'd covet them. And then I ground my teeth together because I was cataloging my appearance to make sure Ashley Baker-Hughes wouldn't find me lacking in any way.
Damn. It.
I turned, leaning against the desk and giving her a confused smile. "Ashley. This is a ... surprise."
She huffed, walking toward me to give me an air kiss next to my cheek. No hugs for us. But even without her arms around me, I caught the slightest hint of her signature scent of Chanel No. 5, and it made me want to choke.
"It wouldn't be one if you ever listened to your messages," she said, casting a disdainful eye around my office. "No window."
I tilted my head. "Do you have windows in the ope
rating room?"
Ashley exhaled. "Don't be ridiculous."
We couldn't be in a room together for ninety seconds without snipping. I rubbed at my forehead. "Sorry, I'm just surprised to see you here. In Washington. In my office."
She shrugged, pushing her heavy fall of golden hair over her shoulder. "I wasn't happy with some of the communication with the venue for the ceremony, and since I wasn't on call the next couple of days, I decided to fly out here myself to talk to the events coordinator to make sure we're on the same page. Adam and I got engaged there, and I need everything to be perfect." She rolled her crystalline blue eyes. "You'd think she'd understand the difference between white and eggshell for the roses I want."
"You'd think."
Her eyes narrowed on the flowers behind me. "Speaking of blooms ..."
Shit.
She waltzed up to the desk and plucked the note from the plastic holder.
"Presumptuous much?" I asked dryly, my heart pounding even though Matthew hadn't signed his name.
Her pink lips, the exact same shape as mine, moved as she read the note. Her eyebrows lifted. "Well then, sounds like someone is mixing business with pleasure."
Because of course, it was perfectly clear an athlete had written that note.
"You can't possibly know that," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.
"Sidelined?" She sniffed. "Please. It's cute. Not very original, but cute. But I suppose football players aren't typically known for their brains, are they?"
If I hadn't been completely freaking out, I would've laid into her, but snide comments like that would have to wait for the moment.
I knew Ashley didn't follow football. After her relationship with Matthew went so sour, she refused to watch a single game, college or pro. She hopefully—probably—had zero clue that he still played. That he played for my team. I almost whimpered at the possible ramifications of this little impromptu visit.
"How long have you been dating?" she asked. "Can't be that long if Mom and Dad don't know about it. Though I suppose you held on to what's his name in college for almost a year before he moved on."
The Ex Effect Page 12