Chapter 12
OLI
The burble of the other customers around us was a cheerful counterpoint to the thoughts burning and churning through my head.
I’d done my best to ignore them at the rink.
Tried hard to get into the spirit of things and be a shiny happy person to represent Ren.
Why couldn’t I just forget about Mom and Dad?
Why couldn’t I just let all that crap go?
She’d made her choice and it wasn’t me this time.
A man near the counter dropped a mug of coffee on the way to his table, and there was a round of cheering and clapping, even from the workers.
My cheeks heated with empathy. I would not be pleased if that were me.
I guess it didn’t matter much because a guy behind the counter was already handing him a new mug.
Grounds and Gears was a great coffee shop.
The soft gray walls dotted with photographs of motorcycles felt homey in a way I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Maybe the atmosphere was down to the happy employees who were laughing and joking together behind the counter.
Overhead, red globes with lights inside dangled from the ceiling and they swayed a bit each time someone opened the door.
I took everything in as I happily sipped my butterscotch latte from a large red mug. A stack of peanut butter cookies about the size of my palm sat on a black plate in the middle of our round stainless steel table, and Ren had been devouring them, one by one.
He’d started with ten and was down to two. It was a heroic effort.
Ren stared into KC’s eyes while he licked crumbs off his fingers in an obscene way that had us both mesmerized—along with a woman who was probably in her forties. She had a ball each of yellow and brown yarn at a nearby table and was knitting away at a hefty scarf while her cheeks pinked up.
I kicked Ren’s foot under the table, but he didn’t glance away from KC or stop until he’d laved every finger from tip to base.
I’d been on the verge of saying something—who knew what. All at once, I was hyperaware of my cock punching the inside of my jeans. Heat coiled in my groin. A noise like I’d been slugged in the gut leaked from me.
Ren winked at me, then KC.
Clearing my throat, I raised my mug but didn’t drink the steaming sweet latte. “So—” My voice was far huskier than it should be.
Ren settled back in his chair with a cocky grin.
“Aria and Robby seemed nice.” I took a long sip of the latte and shivered at the sweet warmth winding through me to settle in my belly. It was a toss-up whether the velvety pleasure was from the beverage or Ren’s bullshit.
Ren raised an eyebrow in my direction, then snagged KC’s attention by staring directly into his amber-flecked blue eyes.
“Yeah, they were headed off to fuck. She was wet after seeing him skate. Gushing. Bet it was dripping down her thighs. Probably had to change her panties. Did you have that problem?” He nudged my foot.
A million emotions fluttered through me.
Embarrassment, since I actually had come in my boxers on multiple occasions—and a violent twist of desire.
I wish I’d done that while he was skating around, showing off his power.
I wish I could tell him yes and peel off my boxers and shove them in his face so he could smell what I’d done.
“Last I checked, I don’t wear panties,” I snarked.
“We could change that.” He rapped on the table, then snagged a new cookie and took a bite.
My face scalded and I set down my mug with so little control that a good bit sloshed onto the table. We didn’t do anything about it. “What the fuck?”
“You broke Oli.” KC gave me that puppy-dog smile of his.
I rolled my eyes. “I suppose you think I should want your dick enough to do that?”
Ren rocked his shoulders from side to side. “Mm-hmm. I know KC does.” He wrapped an arm around KC’s firm waist and rested his chin on KC’s shoulder. “Tell me some of the dirty things you want to do in Shakira.” He brushed his lips against KC’s cheek in a tease.
I couldn’t tell for sure that our spectator had heard us, but her knitting needles clacked faster and she kept stealing glances at KC and Ren.
Part of me wanted to make a face at her, but Ren was the one not keeping his voice down.
It wasn’t her fault she could hear every raunchy detail flying out of his mouth.
I flicked his wrist, but he didn’t look away from his victim.
KC’s face flushed pinker than a sunset and his sexy warm chuckle made my dick situation worse.
The bad mood I’d been fighting off since yesterday closed in around me as Ren finally got a clue and leaned in to whisper in KC’s ear instead of broadcasting to everyone how he wanted to fuck us.
He was so invested in flirting with KC that he dropped his cookie back on the plate, then massaged KC’s thigh under the table.
They were clearly happy.
Which was good.
I made the decision to shove off the emotions—all the awful shit—that had been on my mind, just like I had while Ren was skating.
As KC turned to smile and whisper something in Ren’s ear that practically had KC humping his leg, a bolt of anger struck me, and I curled my fingers around the edge of the table.
After what KC had done this morning, he didn’t deserve to be the one getting loved on.
Fuck. I guess being mad about the protein powder was stupid.
KC was clearly working through a real issue.
Hell, I was being an asshole. He needed love even more because there’d been weirdness.
But I couldn’t use logic to shake off the way I’d felt earlier or now.
It seemed like I was more worried about him than he was about himself, and it had only taken seconds for me to become a jealous mess.
I picked up a cookie, grabbed KC’s hand, and dropped it onto his palm. He looked down the same way I would expect someone to examine a rattlesnake, with horror and surprise vying for top contender in his expression.
“Have a cookie.” I smiled. Yeah, I was being a shit, but after what he’d put me through this morning, I felt justified.
KC made a face and tried to put the cookie on the plate, but I blocked him. Ren shot a frown between us.
“I’m good,” KC said.
Ren nudged his shoulder. “One won’t hurt. Hell, I’ve had eight. They’re fantastic.”
KC gave up trying to get the cookie back where it belonged and dropped it onto the table. “I . . . uh . . . would rather eat a healthy meal than sugar.” He ran a hand through his short red hair.
Watching KC struggle just made me ache for him, which piled on top of all those other shitty feelings I’d been trying to ignore.
I had no idea why I’d thought being a brat would make me feel better.
When had making KC uncomfortable ever been part of the game I played with Ren?
It wasn’t, and I shouldn’t have done that.
I should apologize.
“I’m ready to go if you guys are.” I chugged my latte.
We’d stopped because Ren was “starving to death,” but he didn’t seem to be wasting away anymore.
When it got right down to things, Ren wasn’t complicated.
If he was happy, all he wanted was to stay happy.
Now that he wasn’t hungry, he would want to fuck.
“Take a bite.” Ren picked up the cookie and tried to airplane it toward KC’s mouth.
All traces of KC’s good mood vanished as he shook his head. I let out a sigh of relief when Ren shrugged, then proceeded to devour the cookie in about three bites.
KC laughed. “That’s gross.”
Ren grinned as much as he could with his mouth stuffed. Crumbs landed on his shirt.
I got up and went around the table. Looping my arms over their shoulders, I leaned down between them. “Maybe I’m wet, too, like Aria. Maybe my boxers are soaked in cum just from watching Ren skate. I’ve come from KC kissing me.” I grinned as sparks danced over my skin from mere words.
They both gaped at me as I turned toward the door and walked outside.
Well, Ren’s eyes had widened and he’d munched as fast as he could.
I’d only made it a few feet down the sidewalk when they burst outside behind me.
I couldn’t help but laugh as Ren scooped me up in his arms and sprinted toward the spot where he’d parked Shakira along the curb.
“You little slut. Did you? Did you come watching me skate while wearing my jersey?” He jiggled me in his grip, and all I could do was snicker. This was so much better than feeling sorry for myself. God, I never wanted to screw with KC again, either.
That had sucked.
“What are you so happy about?” He bounced me again in his arms, and I gasped as my stomach swooped.
“Hmm.” We were almost to the car. “I like muscles, but I guess I never realized I love jocks so much.” I contorted myself to squeeze his tense bicep.
Ren set me on my feet, then had to steady me as I flailed to stop me from slapping my hands on Shakira’s paint job.
He spanked my ass hard. The shock of fire that licked through my insides made my abs tighten in the best way possible.
Ribbons of heat slid down to power through my shaft and pulse in my cockhead.
He opened the car door and laid down the back of his seat so I could get inside, but I had to take a couple of steadying breaths before I managed to do it.
“Are we headed home?” KC asked, then turned to rest his chin on the corner of his seat. He licked his lips. “You’ve come from kissing me?”
I grinned as Ren tilted his head, clearly intent on my answer despite navigating the car out into traffic. “Yep.”
“What about me?” Ren asked, glaring into the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, like you need your ego stroked.” I snorted.
His shoulders tensed. “Keep it up and you won’t be getting anything stroked.”
I rolled my eyes.
The growl that left him made my dick sit up and beg so much more than I was willing to let on.
“What the hell?” KC grabbed Ren’s shoulder when he cut across the road and Shakira’s tires bumped onto a ramp into a parking garage.