8. WTF?
Chapter 8
WTF?
Lo
A m I aware I’m spiraling? Of course I am! I am the most self-aware person I know. But what’s a girl to do?
The right thing, Lo , pops into my head.
“Mom,” I grumble.
“What?” Skinner chuckles.
“Nothing. Do you two want a drink?”
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have used the same line as I did last night, and then maybe my face wouldn’t feel like it’s ten seconds from bursting into flames, but whatever. I’m not trying to go round two …
I grab three bottles from the fridge—test batch, not carbonated the way I want yet, but whatever—and slide them across the island without a word.
“This one’s new,” I say, because it feels like I have to say something. “Oenobrew batch we’re playing with.”
Skinner pops his open without hesitation. “You should give lessons.”
“I’m not giving you my playbook,” I joke.
Kolby just watches me like he does—quiet, measuring. He takes the bottle but doesn’t say anything.
I hate that I want him to.
Skinner takes a sip, makes a face like it surprises him, then nods, pleased. “Oh, this tastes like doom. You should call it Imminent Threat .”
I blink. “What?”
He shrugs, gesturing toward the bottle. “It’s fruity at first, then hits like a truck. Just like the text we all got from the men in black.”
Kolby finally takes a sip, swallows. His jaw flexes once. “What about Blitz Protocol ?”
I roll my eyes. “Absolutely not. That sounds like an energy drink you’d get at a truck stop.”
He smirks, and I look away before I do something stupid, like smirk back.
Skinner taps the bottle with his finger. “ Neutral Zone Brew. Or Break Coverage. Ooo! The Red Zone Life. ”
“Okay, I’m regretting this already.”
“ Code Black ,” Kolby says.
I pause.
He doesn’t look at me, just takes another sip like he’s peacocking, probably doing his endzone dance.
Skinner nods thoughtfully. “That’s not bad. Strong. Ominous.” Which he pronounces wrong, and on any other night, I may correct him, but he’s been through enough. “Might make a great playoff launch name.”
Yeah, well, it was a nice thought. “Or a warning label.”
Skinner ignores me. “Ooo— Silent Snap. Like the play. Or, you know, the creeping dread that someone’s trying to dismantle the team from the inside.”
“That’s really the mood you want on a beer label?” I ask, leaning back against the counter.
“We’re not exactly living in light and citrusy times, Lo.”
I raise a shoulder. “Fair.”
I look down at my own bottle. It’s good, balanced, not sweet, and just sharp enough to feel real.
Maybe Dome Pressure . Maybe Sudden Death . Maybe something that says, yeah, we’re watching the walls and waiting for something to break through. But I’m not even sure they know the line was cut, or the server was put on a loop.
Kolby’s voice cuts in again. “Call it Containment .”
I hurry over and grab my notebook from the table behind the couch and jot it down.
“She likes it, Kolby,” Skinner jokes and immediately yawns. And, of course, I yawn in response.
Kolby’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t succumb to the contagion.
“I am going to call it a night.” I dump my drink down the sink drain. “If you guys want anything, what’s mine is yours, except the cheesy potatoes.”
I walk over and open the closet. “The bathroom is the other door.”
I drag out the collapsible frame. “This is a queen-size. The mattress and electric pump are in there. It’s comfier than the couch.”
“I appreciate it,” Skinner says, confirming he’ll be down here, which means Kolby Grimes will be in the spare bedroom.
Grrr , I should have totally made room for a walk-in closet instead of a place for Mags and Iz to crash.
As soon as I’m in my room I send Riley a damn text.
Me:
You’re an ass. You seriously offered up my place??
Riley:
Oh, I’m the ass? You’re the one who said—and I quote—“All of us have extra room.” Did we forget that?
Me:
It was hypothetical. Not me saying let’s house two giants who track in snow and disruption, who will ruin my three days off.
I think but clearly don’t type, And unresolved sexual tension … that was recently resolved, but now I want more.
Riley:
Hart and I have four guys under our roof right now. Someone ate his protein powder dry like it was Fun Dip. You’ll survive.
Me:
YOU chose Hart. I chose silence, solitude, and my cast iron.
Riley added Izzy and Maggie to the chat
This bitch …
Maggie:
OMG, is this about the Hot Grumpy Guard (henceforth known as HGG) and his Hotter (slightly less astute) Best Friend (HBF)??
Izzy:
Wait. I’m just waking up to this. did you say they’re THERE, like … in the silo? right now?
Me:
Yes. Breathing my oxygen. Drinking my drink. Ruining my peace.
Riley:
Also, a reminder: You literally offered.
Me:
-ish
Riley:
They were going to end up at Mr. and Mrs. BDB’s place, and Syd and Boone are still in their honeymoon phase. Let them live.
Maggie:
I say seduce the grumpy one or make him clean the bathroom with a toothbrush. Win-win.
Izzy:
I can drop off cookies or pepper spray. Your call.
Me:
Don’t make me turn this thread into a funeral. I swear to God.
Riley:
Love you, too. Send pics if someone cries.
Me:
Good night, sir!
Each of them sends their goodnight emoji of choice.
Riley’s popcorn
Maggie sends the pink double heart
and follows it up with an eggplant,
Iz sends the cookie, the moon, and a book.
Me, I send the middle finger emoji.
I toss the phone to the side of the bed, because tossing it at a wall would be loud, and Grimes would totally read into it.
I hear laughter from below and tune in.
“Skinner, quiet, man,” Kolby whispers.
“I can’t when the noise in here is so loud.”
In here?
“That quilt, her being number one, and you being number sixty-eight, that just adds up to messy.”
The fact my brain fires in a similar pattern as Skinner’s is alarming. I slide off my bed and tiptoe across the floor so I can hear better.
“You know what could be worse than messy?” Kolby asks.
“What?” he asks.
“You spewing this fantasy you have about Lauren Brooks, and I could cause your face to get worse than messy.”
“Then deny it.”
Kolby says nothing, but Skinner does.
“In my experience, sixty-nines always end up in an eleven.”
“What?” Kolby asks irritably.
“Me, her, lying side by side, staring at the ceiling—awkward as hell.” He sighs. “Can’t wait for the day I get my sixty-one.”
Kolby sighs. “I do not even want to know.”
“You won’t judge me?”
“We are way past that. How about you just stop?—”
“Doggy with a pregnant woman.”
“I really wish you would just shut the hell?—”
“Like, obviously it would be my baby, but Lady S bent over the arm of a couch, me behind her with my hand on her belly, over the little fella I planted?—”
“No more.”
Clearly, Skinner doesn’t hear him, or just doesn’t care, because he continues.
“Those are goals. Find a chick who’s got a little sass, a sweet smile, and sweeter ass. Plop a ring on it, make babies, and do life the way it should be.”
“I mean, I?—”
“Didn’t think it could happen while we play this game. Our married teammates are miserable.” Skinner pauses. “Oh shit, sorry, man.”
“I’m separated.”
“Yeah, but case in point kind—she didn’t wanna be part of this. Then Nick being pissed wasn’t about us having to lock down—his wife’s moving back to LA, taking his kids after the season ends.”
“I don’t think any of us waiting on contracts have gotten them. Guessing he’ll look for a trade. And betting after his outburst today, they’ll let him go without a fight.”
Silence.
“What?” Kolby asks.
“Morgan and Jennings got emails from Drew today. She has Mack taking over some of us. You know, because she’s busy with three babies and two men.” Skinner makes a small explosion sound. “Mind blown.”
“She’s married to our QB. They’re happy.”
“Not trying to yuck their yum, but no way I’d share the future Lady S. Would you sh?—”
Kolby answers a quick, sharp, “No.”
“You should check your email.”
“And you should quiet your mind, man,” Kolby says.
“You going to bed?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you making breakfast in the morning?” Skinner asks.
“I’ll see what I can do without messing with our hostess’s cast iron.”
Hearing his voice much closer now, I scramble back into my room, trip over something, and fall on my ass as I hear the creak of the seventh stair. I shove up and dive into my bed, bury my face in my pillow, and play possum, hoping he’s kind enough, exhausted from this freaking day, like I am, to even?—
“You’re as subtle as a Texas tornado. I could hear you doing whatever the hell it is you were doing up here, and even before that, I saw your hair through the banister.”
Fffff …
I roll over onto my back, prop myself up on my elbows, and volley it back, adding a dramatic brow arch, “Yeah, well, why are you letting Skinner think there’s something going on with us?”
He plops his ass on the end of my bed then bends down. “Yeah, you don’t win that one,” he says as he turns and hands me my phone.
“Those bitches,” I hiss when I see dozens of eggplants and fire emojis, and worse than that.
“My bad. I thought the group name was Team KOLO.”
“That’s them, not me,” I defend.
“You telling me you didn’t tell them?” he asks, back toward me.
“Hell no. Iz would have opened Blue Valley Pub just to print an announcement.”
I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes up to stand. “Any chance you have a phone charger I can borrow?”
I slide off the bed. “Yeah, follow me.”
I walk out the door and back toward the stairs, into the spare room. “It’s small, but the bed is apparently?—”
“ Comfy ?” comes from behind, with a hot breath hitting my ear in a way that makes my spine tingle.
I clear my throat, put some distance between us, and open the nightstand drawer. “Iz and Mags stay over a lot.”
“As in, team KOLO?”
I ignore him. “There are a bunch of cords in here.” I pull the one out I think will work, hand it back to him, and shut the drawer.
“Thank you, Lo .”
I don’t mean to let the way he says Lo settle as deep inside me as his voice goes, but it does, and it … pulls at something I now know can snap.
“I think you should leave before our one-night stand becomes a two-night?—”
“Why?” I turn and look up at him.
“I’m married.”
I swallow back the lump in my throat, pull from all that Jade Brooks confidence my DNA holds, and tell him the truth. “You haven’t been married since you came here.”
His lips twitch, and he says, “Sixty-eight plus one—you claimed me before I ever walked into room three twenty-four.”
“It was three twenty-three, same as my locker senior year, and I never hid that fact. You’re the one who swerved at that team party.”
“Not how I’m remembering it. I recall you took off when you heard someone coming. I’m not slow at catching cues. I was about to become a dirty little secret.”
“That’s not?—”
“Then I overheard you and Hart talking about a one-night stand you had with him, and I don’t play that game.”
I try again, “That’s not?—”
And he cuts me off … again.
“This is something that could get messy and?—”
“Do not parrot Skinner again and say awkward.”
“I think we need to—” He stops when I start walking toward the closet. “Where are you going?”
“Narnia.”
I walk into the closet, push aside the coats, and open the door that leads into the little closet in my room.
“What the hell is this?”
“Was going to have a massive closet instead of a spare room. Still will one day.” I turn around and face him as I tighten my ponytail. “You should shut the door.”
“Lo, this could get complicated.”
I decide fuck it and close the door myself. Lock it, too, since who knows if Jackson or even Skinner will walk in here.
“I’m not asking for a ring. Don’t want your money; got my ow—” I turn around and see him ducking under the door that separates the closets. “Where are you going?”
Dammit , I think as I palm my face. In what messed-up dimension does sixty-eight plus one equal zero? No eleven needed; it’s now totally awkward.
When he walks back out of my closet with a smirk playing on his lips, I feel my chest rise and fall with my breaths. My breasts become heavier, my abdominal muscles tighten, that heavy pull increases, and my knees … they go weak. And that’s all before he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside.
So hot I can almost hear the air sizzle.
“Music?”
His question has me stuck in my damn hoodie. “I don’t need all that,” I growl when my hair gets caught in God only knows what.
His hands are on me, helping me as he says, “You’re not a screamer, but those pretty sounds you make, guessing they carry in here, and I’m not about to share that with Skinner.”
He pulls my hoodie off me. “I’d have to end him.”
The effect his bod has on me is one thing, but his sweet … naughties, they are terrifying in the most satisfying way.
I hit random on my music app and the song “Do I Wanna Know” comes on.
His lips crash into mine. Within seconds, I’m on my back, in my bed, and he’s settled between my thighs with an almost unhinged look in his soul-deep brown eyes as he pulls my joggers and panties off in one fluid motion. He pushes his hands under my ass and grips tightly as he lifts me to meet his open mouth.
I fist the sheets as I look down at him, those beautiful eyes framed with thick black lashes—stunning. My muscles tense in anticipation but only for a breath before his tongue darts out, licks his lips, and then slices into me.
“Oh, damn,” I cry softly as he continues licking me hard and slow, avoiding where I want him the most.
I look down at him—broad shoulders, bulging muscles, his broad chest, seriously perfect man nips.
His hand moves now. He pinches my clit between his fingers. I squirm, mouth open with nothing coming out, as he licks and sucks before slowly rolling his tongue along my clit, and then he begins fingering me, filling me, first with one finger, then two.
“I’m gonna … do that thing.” My knees clamp around his ears as I start rubbing against his face.
“Fuck, Lauren, so hot.” He pushes up onto his knees, bringing me with him, the lower half of my body no longer touching the mattress—I’m on his face.
“You taste so incredible. I’m not going to stop until you’re begging for more,” he promises.
The mix of arousal and vulnerability builds within me, and I take control of the situation. “Hold on,” I manage to say as I position myself differently.
“Jesus, Lo,” he says, gripping my ass that’s now basically in his face as I hover over him.
He lets out a sexy groan when he feels my hand wrap around his impressive length. Even though last night happened, I had no idea just how big he is.
He’s hard and soft, veiny, but just the right amount. All this is … a lot.
The growl that comes right before he pulls my center to his face sends my heart into a frantic pace. The bead of liquid lust seeps out of him, and I moan at the slippery feel of it.
Gripping him more firmly, I begin to stroke him as I suck.
His hand skates up the back of my neck, and his fingers tangle in my hair. “Just like that … Just fucking like that.” He thrusts into my mouth, but not enough to gag me, so I take him deeper, wanting to see how far I can take him. He’s at the back of my throat, my eyes are watering, but I don’t care.
As good as his mouth feels and as uninvited as Skinner is, this … doesn’t let me see him. So I move.
“Where the hell …?”
He stops when I settle between his legs and take as much of him in my mouth as I can.
“Lo,” he groans that sexy low Lo that’s now my favorite sound as I start to suck down the length of him, tongue flat against the sexy veins on the underside, and all the way up to wrap my lips around the broad head. I suck harder.
I love the taste of his skin, the feel of him in my mouth, so much that I don’t wanna stop. I keep licking his thick, hard, beautiful cock, only blinking when I take him too deep, hating it and loving it when I do. Loving it because he bares his teeth; hating it because it makes me pause.
His jaw tightens, his hands flex like he wants to grab a hold of me but doesn’t dare, like I might stop.
Not a chance .
His eyes lock onto mine. His gorgeous eyes grow heavier and wilder. I’m going to crave this look—his undoing, his lust, want, desire, and need for me.
I continue faster, deeper, gagging myself, and loving every second of it.
“May wanna stop that real soon,” he hisses as his head hits the back of my throat and I continue to suck down his length, “or I’m gonna fill your sweet mouth—fuck …”
I grip him harder, stroke him faster, and then take him again, all the way to the back of my throat.
“Gonna swallow every fucking drop.”
I do not relent. I suck, and lick, and stroke until my name comes out.
“Lo.”
His first burst of hot cum hits the back of my throat, and I was not expecting … And another, and yep, another.
Is this normal? Doesn’t matter. It’s definitely not what I expected, but I swallow quickly.
“Fuck,” he says softer. “Just … fuck.”