I hate it, and I hate it even more that when his hand falls down to my calf, I feel the touch rushing through my veins like it’s giving me life. I detest that all I can think about are all the other times he’s touched me and kissed me. My body aches like it’s still raw from him.
I’m a fluttering butterfly caught up in his net, and the bizarre thing is that I don’t want to be set free.
My throat swells with the trail of his fingers to the crook of my knee. And just as I’m about to self-destruct, the place goes up in roars. Lacie’s hands grasp my arm as she pulls me up to her. I’m not really sure what’s happening until I glimpse the scoreboard.
“We won! We fucking won!” she screams right in my face. I can’t seem to shake her up, and her happiness is infectious in a way that I can’t help but celebrate with her.
It takes a while longer for her to come back down to earth, and by the time I manage to break free to find Damon, he’s gone. Something inside withers with disappointment. Was he as happy as she was? Did I miss my chance to see him without his carefully controlled front?
Chapter Ten
DAMON
It’s impossible to ignore Ava across the room. She’s probably the most casual woman in here with her loose-fitting jeans and low-cut Henley. And still, she manages to look better than all the other women in their designer clothes and high heels. She and her friend look like the only two normal people here.
“Hey, man.” Warner bumps my shoulder as he walks into the room. “Good to see you again.”
“You too.” I take his proffered hand, and he pulls me into a preppy handshake. “Nice game.”
“It went all right. We should’ve done better.” He scouts the room, and when he finds Lacie and Ava, he makes a start for them. “Has Lacie spoken to you yet? After what Robert said about what you guys are doing for his book, I wanted to set up a meeting with you.”
I pause within safe distance from the two women so I can speak without being overheard. I don’t want Ava to create some false illusion from what I’m about to tell him. Whatever’s happening between us is getting complicated and messy. We’re pushing and pulling, and I cannot allow myself to care beyond what she can bring to CPM. I can’t…no matter how blurred our lines become.
“We can arrange a meeting with me, but if you want the best—” I look to where Ava’s standing by the viewing area with Lacie. The two of them are laughing as they clink to whatever Lacie has raised her champagne glass to. “She’s it.”
I want to wipe the smile off his face as he stares at her with his gray eyes. The way he’s studying her puts me on edge, making me regret the moment of candidness, because I’ve just fed Ava to a wolf. I know what these sports heroes are like: they create an image of wholesomeness that hides a multitude of sins. Maybe not all, but I see the way Warner is looking at the two of them—like they’re his next supper. I wonder what his pop star wife would think.
“Word of warning,” I tell him as we start in their direction again. “The only relationships at CPM are professional. I don’t tolerate scandal.”
A low rumble vibrates out of him. “Gotcha!”
“Hey!” Lacie spins to us with a wide grin. “Great game!”
He’s about to say something when she adds, “Yeah, I know, it could’ve been better.” The roll of her eyes is an obvious admonishment of his modesty. “We won again. It’s what matters. Nobody wants to play us, not with the streak you’re on.”
“I’m going to start thinking I’m your favorite client.” He looks down on her. Lacie isn’t a small woman; she’s tall and voluptuous in the way lingerie models are.
“You wish!”
“You disappeared after the game.” Ava looks up at me with confusion softening her stare.
“I had to make a call,” I lie.
“Oh.” One of her hands grazes my arm, and when I tense, she licks her lips. Eyes darting to my forearm, she takes a deep breath as a blush tinges her cheeks. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“No, noth—”
“Oh my God, baby, there you are!” America’s newest hit machine pushes between Ava and Lacie, a little unsteady on her feet as she holds her glass of champagne upright. She stands in the middle of us all like an attraction, and I don’t miss the way Warner moves her to stand between us.
“This meeting,” he sighs, pushing her out of our circle a little more. “I’ve got three days before we’re back so—”
“Wait.” His wife pushes in front of him again, her hand twisting in his T-shirt, the other barely saving the drink she clearly doesn’t need. “We’re meant to be going home tonight.”
“You go on without me. I can join you once we’re done.”
I’m about to tell him we can figure something out when he’s back in town, when she turns to Lacie and spits, “You’re his agent, right?”
“Holly.” Warner tries to grab her, but she smacks his hand away. “Stop.”
“She’s your fucking agent, so maybe she should do her fucking job!” She reaches for Lacie, but before she gets closer, Callum stops her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulls her back. The jolt sends her champagne glass flying…drenching Ava’s bright white top with its contents.
“Oh my God,” Holly shrieks like she’s in shock. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay…” Ava breathes. “It’s okay.”
I can tell she’s being polite because the corners of her eyes are creased, and the tip of her nose is twitching.
Fuck, I’m not meant to know those things. Although, she’s been pissed at me enough that it’s not all that surprising I’ve memorized them. Right?
Her Henley is clinging to her tits like cellophane, and like it, it’s gone translucent enough that you can see through the thin cotton and her lace bra.
Shit, I don’t even have a jacket to give her. Instead, I hover my hands over her like that’s meant to help the situation.
“Excuse me.” She hands me her own glass, and crossing her arms over chest she moves briskly for the restrooms.
I feel her mortification, and I have no idea what comes over me, but I thrust the glass in my hand at Warner’s wife’s chest. “Enjoy,” I spit at her when she grasps it, and as I turn to follow Ava, I make sure Warner understands I won’t tolerate this kind of crap. “No scandal. No public spectacles. She doesn’t go near my staff.”
The woman’s a fucking mess for someone who’s become the darling of the media.
“Damon.” Callum chases after me. “I’m sorry, Holly’s exhausted—she’s not normally like this.”
“Your wife isn’t my problem.” I walk through the female restroom doors to a few gasps.
“What are you doing here?” Ava snaps at me when I pause beside her in front of the mirror. “It’s called the female washroom for a reason. Can’t you do the math?”
Her pride is visibly hurt, and as I turn her to face me, she covers herself up. There’s no one left in here but us, and it bothers me that she’s embarrassed in front of me when I’ve fucked her in a public place and at the office.
“Here—” I take a step back. “—have mine.”
“Wha-what the hell are you doing?”
“Giving you the shirt off my back.”
Her already flushed complexion reddens a little more.
“Come on, little mouse…” I pull my long-sleeved T-shirt off and hold it up to her. “I’ve seen your cunt; I don’t think your tits are going to make a difference now.”
Ava practically chokes at my words, but when the door opens, she takes my offering and runs into one of the cubicles.
Lacie walks in with a green and blue sports top dangling in her hand.
“Holy shit!” she blurts, freezing in her tracks. Her eyes roam up and down my body. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Feel free to keep going. I can take it.”
“Lace?” Ava calls from the stall. “What the fuck just happened?”
“Holly Warner happened,” Lacie replies acidly, find
ing the cubicle and letting herself in. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“She’s Callum’s wife. Of course it’s my fault.” There’s a heavy sigh, and then the shirt she took in comes flying through the gap over the door. “Feel free to leave it off!”
“Lacie!” Ava’s bitten whisper is audible through her friend’s laughter.
“What? He’s got a hot bod…”
“Bad, bad, Lacie!”
“Excuse me, I’m not the one that fucked it in public.”
“Oh my God, shut the fuck up!”
I pull the top on, trying not to laugh at their conversation. The damn thing is so tight that the seams are pretty much cutting into me. I message my driver to let him know we’re leaving, and before Ava dies of embarrassment, I walk out of the restroom.
Warner is waiting outside, his wife nowhere in sight.
“Listen, I want to have the meeting with you before I have to get back. I have a few other editors and agents booked in, but I’d like to hear your pitch. I’m heading home, and if you and Ava would like to join us in the Hamptons, Holly and I would love to have you stay for a couple of days.”
“How far are you into the book?”
“It’s done. I didn’t write it. Words aren’t my thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Dyslexia.” He shrugs. “Lacie got me a ghostwriter, and we worked on it together.”
“Look, I was going to visit my parents—they’re up in East Hampton. Maybe we can do lunch one of the days?”
“Thanks.” He nods. “Also, you might want this.” He takes his hoodie off and hands it to me. “Preserve your dignity.”
Without another word he saunters away, leaving me to wait for Ava. And the idiot that I am, I text Mom to let her know I’m coming to visit her…with Ava.
I know it’s a bad idea, but I like it.
Chapter Eleven
AVA
The radio murmurs quietly in the background as we navigate through Manhattan, toward my apartment. Damon’s been on his phone for most of the journey, and although the atmosphere isn’t awkward, it feels strange to be sitting beside him in silence. We’ve never done silence. We’ve filled all our moments with flirting and fucking and fighting and fucking and…
“It wasn’t that bad.”
I look up to find him closer. There’s this look on his face that’s not the man from the bar, but not the Damon I’ve come to know either. He almost looks a little uncertain compared to his usual surety.
“Except it was.” I comb my poker-straight hair to one side so it curtains my mortification from him. “Note to self: don’t wear white around sports wives.”
I’m still slowly dying inside over the fact my potential client has gotten an eyeful of my goods.
“Either way,” he exhales. His fingertips run through my shield of hair, sweeping it away from my face. An observant pout puckers his lips as his eyes rove over me. “It doesn’t matter,” he states, softer than I’ve ever heard him.
And I’m left wondering if I’m something he cares about. Whether I’m someone to him, rather than a means to an end.
With those thoughts and the way he’s still looking at me, it’s easy to forget to hate him. I could almost believe I like him. That I admire his lack of scruples and how far he’s willing to go for what he loves.
How far is too far?
How far am I willing to go?
Damon sucks all the breath out of me, filling his lungs as his hand cups my face. Thumb smoothing over my hot, pulsing cheek. Lips ghosting mine. Overgrown stubble bristling over my jaw.
I want him to kiss me. And not with ignorance of who he is—I’m fully aware of it. And still, I want it. I want Damon Coldwell. In spite of all his lies and wrongdoings. I want him like I’ve never wanted anything before. Like he could make losing myself worth it, because he’s shown me a stronger side of me. A better side.
“I’m going to kiss you, little mouse,” he murmurs over my lips, like he’s giving me a real choice. A chance to push him away. To stop.
It’s the one choice I want him to keep. I want him to take, and I never want him to stop.
I nod, and he doesn’t waste a second. His mouth comes down on mine, hard and commanding as the man I know so well. But his tongue licks into my mouth, slow and savoring. The hand cupping my face slips to my hair as his other rounds my waist and pulls me onto his thighs.
Sitting on his lap with him caressing me with his strong hands and devouring me with his luscious lips…my heart hasn’t beat this fast or this hard in all my life. Ever.
The car jolts to a stop, and the driver’s door slams shut. I expect Damon to stop, but if anything, his kiss deepens. We’re hot and breathless. My body is begging for more, and I feel his solid need pressed to the side of my thigh.
“Truce,” he rumbles when he pulls away.
“Truce.”
Opening the car door, he shuffles to the edge of the seat without letting me go. Carefully, he gets out of the car with me still in his arms. He only puts me down when we’re on the stoop of my front door. I let us in to the building, and before the door shuts behind us, he’s turning me back to him, kissing me all the way to the elevator.
Damon doesn’t stop, and the minute the doors roll shut, he hoists me up between his body and the wall. His hands knead my ass with his thick erection grinding into me and his teeth biting at my lips in between licks and sucks.
He walks me to my door with my guidance when we get to my floor. And I don’t know how long he continues kissing me up against my apartment door, but eventually he reluctantly puts me down so I can open it.
I grab his hand and start inside but get pulled backward when he doesn’t follow. I try to tug him in again, but he remains glued to the spot.
“What? Are you a vampire or something? Do I have to invite you in?”
He pulls me back to him, spinning me like we’re in a dance. My back crashes to his front at the same time as his teeth sink into my neck.
Holy fuck.
My knees are ready to cave with him licking at the spot he bit down on. “You need to pack.”
“What for?” I turn to face him again, enjoying the way his hands grasp my hips.
“We’re going on a field trip.” I laugh because he’s got that uncertain haze in his eyes, and it’s making me nervous. “I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning.”
“Where are we going?”
Damon visibly takes a moment, like he’s trying to get his fill or memorize my face, before he kisses me again. It’s a short, firm press of our lips.
Taking a step back, he hooks his thumbs into his jean pockets. “We’re having lunch with Warner. He can’t wait to sit down with you.”
He’s chewing on his lip, but his stance is all business. And I’m so fucking stupid. I’m not anything to him—I’m business.
“See you tomorrow.” I walk inside and am about to close the door when he holds it open.
“Ava…”
I wait for him to say something. Anything. But Damon stands there looking at me like I’m a problem he needs to solve. Like I mean something, but maybe too much has happened and it’s too late for any of it to be more than what it is.
“Good night, little mouse.” He grins, but it doesn’t have its usual mean glint. And while I watch him walk away, I pull the neckline of his top over my nose and mouth, breathing in his scent.
Good night, Damon.
Chapter Twelve
AVA
Damon comes to a stop in front of the sprawling home. The sun is shining down over a large oak on the front lawn. It’s beautiful, and nothing like what I expected from Callum Warner and his wife. They seem like the super-modern show home type.
This house is cute with its off-white cladding and worn gray shingle roof. The weathervane topping one of the dormer windows spins with the spring bluster. It’s perfectly picturesque with the way it sits amongst the verdant trees and lawn.
“We’re here,” Damon announces, ducking to look across me to the property.
“It’s not what I expected.”
He chews on his lip as he glances at me with raised brows. “Well, it’s home.”
It takes a second for the penny to drop. “Excuse me?”
Without answering my question, he gets out of the car, standing at the front trunk, like he’s admiring the place. I should climb across the center console and run the shit out of him.
But of course, he grins at me with his stupid charismatic grin, and everything sets on fire inside me.
Fuck, I hate him!
Getting out of the car, I slam the door to his McLaren as hard as I can before I stand gawking at the house like he is.
Damon comes to stand beside me after a moment. His shoulder nudges me like it’s meant to make me stop freaking the hell out.
“What am I doing here?”
“Working.” He shrugs.
“Meeting your family isn’t working. Do you bring your other employees here too?”
Fate must be having a great laugh at my expense because Francesca comes barreling out of the quaint, red front door. “Thank fuck you’re here! I’m starving!”
When she pauses in front of us, she looks between me and Damon. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“You’re an asshole.” She scowls at him with a tap to his cheek.
“Harder would be better,” I tell her.
Fran laughs, threading her arm through mine, and leads me toward the house. “Get the bags, Coldwell.”
I can’t help but laugh with her, however, I’m still very aware that I’m on my own, navigating a situation I can’t read. We’re not friends…fuck, we’re not even fuckbuddies.
I freeze as Fran tries to take me inside. My heart is hammering in my throat, my vision is clouding over…I’m not okay with this.
Forbidden: A Romance Anthology Page 33