The Halo Series Boxed Set

by Kimberly Knight

  The minutes ticked as I poured drink after drink. Brooke took a seat at the end of the bar when it opened up, and I started to slowly only serve her cranberry juice by using more juice than vodka with each drink because I didn’t want her to get wasted. Anyone would get plastered if they spent four hours drinking vodka. I couldn’t let that happen.

  “This tastes like juice,” Brooke complained.

  “I’m not sure you can tell the difference in your state,” I teased.

  “In my state? I’m not drunk.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  She blinked and looked at the guy sitting next to her and scowled as if to ask him if he could believe what I was saying. She turned her head back to me and glared. “Yes, I’m sure. I came to a bar … to drink.”

  I leaned forward and motioned for her to lean in as well. Once we were inches apart, I whispered in her ear, “No, you came here to get fucked on the bar.”

  Her eyes widened, and I saw her swallow. “And who will that be with?”

  I drew back and narrowed my eyes. “No one if you’re wasted.”

  She laughed a huff. “Well, thank God my bartender has been skimping on the alcohol.”

  The guy next to her nonchalantly tilted his glass, wondering if I was skimping on his too.

  “Only when my fiancée needs to drive home.” I cut my eyes to look at the dude, silently asking him to understand the situation—well, not the entire situation because I was certain he didn’t know my plans.

  “I’m sure I’d burn it off by the time I needed to drive home.”

  I laughed and started to walk away. “Yeah, you sure will.”

  An hour or so later, the bar was finally empty. Traver and our other staffers had gone home. I dimmed the lights and locked the door behind Gary after assuring him he didn’t need to walk Brooke to her car. I was always the last to leave, and on the rare occasion Brooke stayed until the end of the night, he would walk her to her car because I needed to lock up the money and various other things before I could go home.

  Not tonight.

  Brooke was still sitting on the backless barstool at the bar drinking her cranberry juice. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her against me. “You know people can’t see through the windows, right?”

  “Are you sure?” She laughed nervously.

  “Yes. They’re tinted, and when the lights are dimmed, you can’t see in.”

  She chuckled and leaned her head against my chest. “Are you trying to get in my pants?”

  My hand slipped down her body, skimming up her thigh and under her skirt. “You’re not wearing any.” I felt her stiffen as my hand inched closer and closer to where I was seeking. The moment my finger brushed between her thighs, she hissed in a breath.

  “You’re correct, Boss Man.” She spread her legs, urging me.

  My finger slid against her. “Speaking of, what’s up with you wanting an application?”

  She moaned, my thumb brushing her clit as my finger sought her heat. “You want to talk about that now?”

  “I want to know if that was for real.” I kissed the side of her neck and added another finger to the mix.

  “It was … real,” she whimpered.

  “And why do you want one?”

  “I, ahh … I need a job,” she said, panting.

  “What about finding a job in a law firm?” I was curious why she didn’t want to return to her previous profession.

  She tilted her head, allowing me to trail a line of warm kisses along her neck. “I thought,” she paused for a moment. “You know, it’s hard to concentrate.”

  I grinned against the skin on her neck. “Try.”

  She took a breath. “I thought I could work here while … I … um, figure everything out about getting my certificate in New York. Each state …” she paused again, “has their own certification process—almost like being a lawyer, but I don’t have to take the bar exam.”

  “I see.” My fingers were soaked inside her, and I knew if I kept it up, she’d come mid-conversation.

  “Do you not want me to work here?” She thrust her hips forward, wanting my fingers deeper.

  Did I want Brooke working at Halo? I wanted to cut my hours to be with her, and now she wanted to work with me. I wasn’t sure what I wanted.

  “You know,” she continued, “if I work here, then we can do more of this.” Her hand reached up and hooked the back of my nape. Her fingers lightly played with the hair on my neck, sending a chill of pleasure through my body and her hips rocked in sync with my fingers.

  “Yeah, but if we were both home, then I could be doing this to you in our bed.” My dick strained against my jeans as I pictured both scenarios in my head.

  “I could work part-time then. I want to help … contribute and also pay for our … wedding.”

  My hand stilled inside her. “You’re right. We need to talk about this later.” I didn’t want to fight her on the fact I didn’t want her to pay for our wedding. I wanted to pay.

  She chuckled. “Told you so.” I removed my hand, and she started to protest. “Don’t—”

  I cut her off. “Get on top of the bar.”

  She smirked at me over her shoulder.

  “You want to be fucked on the bar.” I nodded toward the wood top, stating the fact.

  “That is why I came tonight.” She stood, and I grabbed her hips, spinning her and setting her on the bar. “Have you ever done this before?” she asked, looking down at the dark wood then back to me.

  I tilted my head a little to the side, furrowing my brows as we stared at each other. “What?”

  “Have you ever fucked a chick on this bar before?”

  I blinked at her. “No.”

  “Any bar?” She smiled.

  “Babe …”

  She shrugged. “What? I’m just asking.”

  I stepped closer between her legs, almost eye level with her. “Not until tonight.”

  Her smile widened. “Finally I’m your first at something.”

  I brushed my lips against hers. “You’re my only.”

  “Yeah?” She grinned.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Now, no more talking.”

  She smirked, not saying anything as she spread her legs again causing me to lick my lips as I looked down to see her skirt raising up her thighs.

  I was definitely going to remember this night.

  How Brooke looked sitting on the bar without any underwear.

  How, when I ran my hands up each leg, her breath caught.

  How I inched her skirt up, exposing her pussy.

  And how she sucked in a breath the moment I bent down to taste her.

  A moan came from her when my tongue took its first swipe, and she leaned back onto her elbows. I groaned, loving the sound and wanting to spread her more. I took her leg and draped it over my shoulder. Her velvety center felt like heaven on my wet tongue as her arousal coated it, sending a signal straight to my dick to hurry the fuck up. It wanted to be buried so deep in Brooke that the people walking by would hear her screams.

  “More,” she panted, grabbing a fistful of my dirty blond hair.

  I sucked her clit before inserting two fingers inside her, stretching her for my cock. “You like that?” I asked, pumping my fingers in and out at the same time.

  She moaned again, pushing my head closer to her.

  My fingers pumped hard, my tongue lapping in unison, bringing her closer and closer to screaming out in pleasure. Her grip on my hair tightened, and her thighs tried to clench together. I knew she was close. So close, in fact, she hissed a word that was in my near future.

  “Fuck …”

  I raised my head as my fingers continued. “I’ll never forget the way you look right now all sprawled on the bar. So fucking beautiful.”

  Her back arched off the wood, her head tilted toward the glass shelves behind her that was illuminated with dim lights to showcase all the bottles we carried.

  “And all mine.”
/>   A groan came from deep in her belly, her body clenching around my fingers. “All yours.”

  I smiled, my fingers slowing as I pulled out of her. “Slide over, baby.” I started making quick work of my belt.

  “We’re doing it on the bar?”

  We sure as shit weren’t doing it on the couch in my office that I needed to burn. “Gotta give my girl what she wants.” I smirked and kicked off my shoes. I grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled it over my head and tossed it onto the floor leaving me in only my socks and hard as fuck.

  Brooke’s gaze made me falter. I let her stare, enjoying the view before I hopped up next to her. Reaching out, I grabbed the side of her face lightly and pulled her to me, our mouths connecting in a scorching kiss that left me aching for her to ride me.

  “I can taste myself on you,” she whispered against my lips.

  I grinned. “Tastes like heaven, right?”

  “You taste like heaven.” She chuckled.

  I groaned and kissed her lips quickly before scooting back to lie on the cool wood. She smirked and kneeled on all fours, stalking toward me while looking at my dick as it lay heavy on my belly. Brooke licked her lips, and I knew what she was thinking, but I wanted her on top of me as my hips thrust up into her.

  “Not tonight,” I said, bringing her emerald eyes to me. “Straddle my hips, baby.”

  Her teeth bit her bottom lip, and I swallowed, ready to taste her again. She rose up, moving closer as she inched up her skirt, exposing her pussy. My gaze moved down, and I watched as Brooke swung a leg over my hips and positioned her glistening pussy above my ready and waiting cock. Before she sunk down to connect us, I grabbed her ass and squeezed. She moaned, her soft hand grabbed my base, and then—then her wet heat engulfed my shaft, and we both sucked in a breath.

  “Shit,” I hissed. “Maybe you do need to work here. I could get used to this.”

  Brooke smirked and leaned down, our lips touching again. As our tongues worked together, she moved up and down. My hands skimmed her bare ass, working up her sides. I wanted her naked, but I didn’t want her to stop. She felt perfect on my dick, and I was already close to losing it.

  My hands continued up her body, and when she pulled back to let out a whimper, I tugged the top of her shirt down with her bra, exposing her ample breasts. She rose enough for me to pull her nipple into my mouth. Her breath was coming in pants, and my hips started to drive up—hard.

  The glow from the neon sign that hung high in the window behind me reflected in her eyes as our gazes met after a few minutes. The look on her face was enough to tell me that she was close. Her eyes closed slowly, and she nuzzled her face in the crook of my neck. Her pants sounded in my ear, and I pounded into her over and over. Brooke’s body shook as her arousal gushed around my dick. With a couple more thrusts, I followed her, losing myself deep inside her.

  She sagged against me, and we stayed connected until I felt her go limp and fall asleep. I had half a mind to let her sleep except I didn’t feel like waking up to having Avery reaming me for fucking in the bar, never mind on the bar.

  Two months later, and a week before we left for Nicole and Avery’s December Vegas wedding, I had my six month CAT scan to check for regrowth of my tumor, but I felt great and had a little more energy.

  Just like I’d done after Dr. Sam discovered I had a tumor, I went to the hospital for the scan. The first time was different, though. I’d just learned I had a tumor. This time, I walked into the appointment with my head held high and not a care in the world. It had been a little more than six months since I had radiation, about eight since my surgery, and I was certain a regrowth couldn’t have grown back that fast. Or at all.

  I was right.

  A few days later, my new doctor in New York called and delivered the good news. There was only scar tissue around the area where the tumor had been and nothing more. Easton, Cheyenne and I hugged and celebrated the fantastic news, and then Easton and I packed for Vegas.

  Our best friends were getting married—to each other!

  When Nicole said she wanted to get married as soon as possible, she wasn’t kidding. Vegas was crazy, and what happened there … Well, you know what they say about Vegas.

  After the crazy weekend, the newlyweds were off on their honeymoon. Once Easton and I returned home, I was in full wedding planning mode. We sent out our save the date cards for our April wedding, and even though it was four months away, I was already starting to get nervous. I wasn’t worried because I was marrying him, though. I was scared something would go wrong. We were going to have a small, intimate wedding and I wanted everything perfect. After all, I was only doing this once.

  We’d also sent a save the date to my mother. She said she wanted to come, so I was extending an olive branch. If she didn’t show to my wedding, that she had begged to attend, I was writing her off for good.

  Nicole was going to be my matron of honor, Bailee my maid of honor and that was it. I made them both my most important girls because they were to me. They could share the duties and decide how to torture me. I was certain Nicole would want to pay me back for her bachelorette party in Vegas before she tied the knot. Again, that’s her story to tell.

  Of course, Cheyenne was going to be the flower girl. She was a little too old for the job, but it was the only way we could incorporate her into our special day.

  The venue for my wedding was set, flowers arranged, DJ booked, and my dress was … not yet found. I was having a difficult time trying to find a dress I loved. The bride’s dress was the second most important part of a wedding. The first was obviously marrying the love of my life, but the second was the dress because weddings were for the bride, and I needed the picture-perfect dress. The one that was breathtaking. The one that a groom couldn’t wait to get her out of.

  Bailee wasn’t able to meet us for dress shopping the first time Nicole and I went. But she didn’t miss much. Nicole and I went to a bridal shop, and I tried on three dresses. The first one was a floral lace white dress that plunged deep in the front and led to a bodice with pockets. Pockets! I could store lip-gloss in it, my something old, borrowed or blue—whatever. However, the bodice wrapped around the back in a V-line that matched the front and extended into a long train. I didn’t want a long train. I wanted to move and not worry someone was going to step on it and rip it causing my granny panties to be exposed. Okay, I probably wasn’t going to wear granny panties on my wedding day. If anything, I’d go commando before I wore a thong that went up my ass. After all, the last time I went commando in a skirt, it benefited me.

  The second dress was a simple satin white mermaid style dress—I wasn’t a fish.

  The third reminded me of being a princess. It had tulle on the inside that made the bottom half of the dress poof out, and I swear I felt like a cloud. It wasn’t me. When we left that bridal shop, I felt defeated.

  The following weekend, Bailee drove in from Boston for a night of wedding planning with Nicole, and we went dress shopping first. We walked into the small boutique and they immediately handed us each a glass of champagne.

  “Who knew you could get drunk and shop for wedding dresses at the same time?” Bailee, asked as she took a sip of the tart liquid.

  “If this is like last weekend, I’m going to need more than champagne,” I murmured.

  “I feel like this is the place,” Nicole stated.

  Bailee chuckled. “It’s because of the champs.”

  “Well, let’s get to it.” I wasn’t excited. After the last bust, I felt as though I’d never find the perfect dress. The one I’d feel beautiful in. The one I’d want to be photographed in so I could have the memories of the best day of my life. The one that was me.

  We walked to the back of the store, and we scanned the floor, looking at the sample dresses. Nothing stuck out to me. When my eyes met those of the store clerk, she studied me for a few beats, and I looked down to make sure I didn’t have a stain on my classic T-shirt or LuLaRoe leggings. I nervously
smoothed down my brown hair just in case that was what she was staring at.

  When my gaze met hers again, she said, “I have the perfect dress.” Her grin was wide and hopeful.

  “Okay.” I smiled tightly because I was still convinced the perfect dress didn’t exist. I knew I’d only tried on three dresses, but I had searched rack after rack and believed it might be a unicorn—a mystical fairytale creature that didn’t exist. I turned and looked at my girls. “She has the perfect dress,” I said sarcastically when the clerk was out of earshot.

  “Stop being like that, B.” Nicole glared and took a seat. Bailee sat next to her.

  “Not everyone already has their perfect dress,” I countered, remembering the dress in her love story.

  She laughed. “Like I had a choice.”

  “Yeah, but you fell in love with it right away.”

  “It just happened to be the perfect one.”

  “Okay, I don’t want to hear that word anymore.” I sighed.

  “What word?” Bailee asked, finally joining the conversation.

  “Perfect!” I snapped.

  “All right!” she hissed. “Drink more champagne, sis. Everything will turn out—”

  I glared at her to stop her from saying it.

  “Fine. I was totally going to say fine, not the P word.” She looked at Nicole as though she needed backup.

  I chuckled and shook my head as Nicole smiled.

  The clerk came out of the back room, holding a dress over her arms, a huge smile on her face. “Try this on and see if you like it.”

  I nodded and followed her to the dressing room. She hung it on a hook and then turned and left. I took a deep breath, staring at the white dress. It didn’t look that bad. Of course, they all looked hopeful before I put them on.

  After stepping into the gown, I twirled and took it in and sighed. Then I went back to where Bailee and Nicole were sitting.

  “That’s—”

  “That’s the one!” Bailee shouted, cutting Nicole off.

  I stepped on the raised platform, wanting to get a good look before I said anything. In the mirror, I twirled and looked at every angle. It was a floor-length, backless gown that showed what I considered to be a nice back. It had spaghetti straps and was made out of lace and tulle on the outside that didn’t poof but hung straight down making me look slender and elegant.