Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ROYCE
My first game working for the team is electric.
I can feel it humming through every inch of the stadium, vibrating through the concrete floors and up into my bones. The energy is intoxicating. Thousands of voices blending together, the crack of the bat during warm-ups, the smell of hot dogs and beer wafting through the corridors.
This is what I've been working toward. This moment right here.
Except I can barely focus on any of it because Kenneth Meyer won't stop looking at me.
It started this morning when I arrived at the office to find my spare clothes missing from my closet. I only noticed because I accidentally spilled coffee on my top when Kenneth startled me.
Then I discovered my computer password had been changed. After being told I had to wait several minutes before attempting to log in again, it hit me that I wasn’t typing anything wrong.
Separate, they were no big deal. They were small things. Irritating things. Things that forced me to track Kenneth down, to interact with him, to stand close enough that I could smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body.
As a whole, it was aggravating me to a level I rarely allowed.
When I’d asked for his help, Kenneth had smiled at me like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Because I suspect he did.
"You're going to give me my password," I'd said, crossing my arms.
"Am I?" He'd leaned against his desk, all casual confidence, his tie slightly loosened. It was barely eight in the morning, and he already looked like he'd been working for hours. "What's the magic word?"
"Kenneth."
"Not quite." His eyes had traveled down my body slowly, deliberately, before meeting my gaze again. "Try again."
I wanted to strangle him. I also wanted to kiss him. The contradiction was maddening.
Now, hours later, as we move through the final pre-game preparations, I'm hyperaware of everywhere he is.
We've been together all morning—reviewing the schedule, coordinating with security, doing walk-throughs of the luxury suites to ensure everything is perfect for our high-dollar guests.
Every interaction has been professional on the surface, but underneath, there's a current of tension building and building until I feel like I might explode.
I'm moving through the stadium, checking details, greeting early arrivals, but my mind keeps drifting back to Kenneth. He went to check on a vendor so I’m alone with my thoughts. And boy are they all over the place.
Visions of a future with him run on repeat. I can’t stop them, nor do I really want to. The Kenneth of now is so different from our younger years. Back then, I’d never even consider talking to him, much less think of giving in to the desire to touch and taste him.
Plus all the stolen moments we’ve had lately… well, they’ve been nice. They’ve put ideas in my head I can’t seem to shake.
I'm in the executive corridor outside one of the luxury suites, waiting for a suite holder who texted that he was on his way, when I hear a familiar cadence of footsteps.
Kenneth must have circled back, must be nearby. Sure enough, I catch sight of him as soon as he turns the corner at the end of the hall. The moment he spots me, his gaze turns heated.
He starts walking toward me, slow and deliberate, and I know I should tell him to stop, that we need to maintain a professional distance, but I can't seem to form words. At least I can’t until he’s close enough to reach out and touch.
It’s better to speak than to do anything I might regret.
"The suite holders will start arriving soon," I tell him. "We need to make sure—"
"Royce." His voice is low, and when I look up, he's closer than he was a second ago. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Can we talk? Privately?"
My heart kicks against my ribs. "We are private."
"More private." He glances down the hallway. "We can go just around the corner. It'll take two minutes."
I should say no. We have a million things to do before the first pitch. But the look in his eyes, all dark and intense and full of a feeling I'm not quite ready to name, makes me nod.
"Two minutes," I agree.
The hall he leads me to is tucked away, barely more than an alcove. The air is thick with everything we've been dancing around.
"What did you need to talk about?" I ask.
Kenneth doesn't answer right away. Instead, he moves closer, backing me up until my back hits the wall. His hands come to rest on either side of me, caging me in.
"I can't keep doing this," he says quietly.
My stomach drops. "Doing what?"
"Pretending." He's so close now I can feel his breath against my face. "Pretending that I don't think about you constantly. That I don't want you so badly it's driving me insane. That working with you all morning, being this close to you, hasn't been absolute torture."
Oh. Oh.
"Kenneth…"
His breath hitches. We're standing too close, the tension between us crackling like electricity. I can see the want in his eyes, the way he's barely holding himself back.
"Gillies told me I needed to be crystal clear with you," he continues, his voice rough.
"So here it is. I like you, Royce. Not as a colleague.
Not as Bellamy's sibling. I like you. I want you.
I think about you constantly. I sent you food on Christmas because I couldn't stand the thought of you being sick and miserable.
I've been messing with your stuff all day just to have an excuse to be near you, to talk to you, to—"
I cut him off by grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down until our mouths are almost touching.
"You're not the only one who's been going insane," I breathe against his lips.
The sound he makes, a mix between a groan and a sigh, sends heat straight through me. Then his mouth is on mine, and everything else falls away.
The kiss is desperate, hungry, months of tension finally snapping. His hands slide into my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss, and I press closer, needing more contact, more of him. He tastes like coffee and mint and a flavor so uniquely Kenneth, and I'm already addicted.
We break apart for air, both breathing hard. Kenneth's pupils are blown wide, his lips already swollen.
"Royce," he says, my name a prayer and a plea.
I glance at my watch, trying to make my brain work. "We have twenty-five minutes before the suites open."
"Twenty-five minutes," he repeats. His hand slides down my side, gripping my hip. "We can work with that."
Pushing him back, I turn us so he’s the one against the wall now. I kiss him again, harder this time, and he arches into me. I’d been allowing him to take a bit of control, but enough is enough.
"You wanted my attention," I say, my voice low and commanding, letting him hear everything I'm feeling. "Now you have it."
One of his hands fists in my hair while the other grabs my shoulder, my back, anywhere he can reach. It’s like he wants to hold on for dear life while I ravage his mouth.
This is insane. We're supposed to be working. The game is about to start and I'm making out with Kenneth Meyer.
I don't care.
My mouth moves to his jaw, his neck, finding that sensitive spot just below his ear that makes him gasp. His head falls back, giving me better access, and I take full advantage, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
"Royce," he breathes. "You can't…people will see—"
"Good." I bite down gently, and he jolts. "Let them see. Let them know you're mine."
The possessiveness in my voice does a number on him. He grabs my face, pulling me back up to kiss him again, harder, deeper. My hips roll forward of their own accord, and I can feel how hard he is, pressing against me. The friction makes us both groan.
"Fuck," Kenneth gasps against my mouth. "Royce, we need to…we can't—"
"I know." But I don't stop kissing him. Can't stop. "I know."
His hands slide under my suit jacket, spanning across my back, pulling me impossibly closer. I can feel every inch of him, hard and wanting against me.
"I want you," he murmurs against my lips. "God, Royce, I want you so badly."
"After," I manage. "After the game. Your place."
"Yes." He kisses me again, deep and thorough. "Yes, fuck, yes."
We're so lost in each other that we almost don't hear the footsteps in the hallway outside. Almost.
Kenneth pulls back abruptly, his eyes wide. We both freeze, listening. The footsteps pass by the door, continuing down the corridor, and we exhale in unison.
"That was close," he says, his voice still rough with want.
"Too close." I smooth down my hair, trying to make myself presentable. "We need to get back out there."
"I know." But he doesn't move, just stands there looking at me with an expression so tender it makes my chest ache. "Royce, I meant what I said. All of it."
I cup his face, running my thumb over his cheekbone. "I know. And for the record? I feel the same way."
The smile that breaks across his face is brilliant, genuine, and it makes my heart stutter. He leans down, pressing one more soft kiss to my lips.
"Tonight," he promises.
"Tonight," I agree.
We take a minute to straighten ourselves, checking each other for obvious signs of what we've been doing. Kenneth's tie is crooked, and I fix it, my fingers lingering against his chest. His hair is a mess from my hands, and he tries to smooth it down, mostly unsuccessfully.
"You look freshly fucked," I tell him, unable to help the smirk.
"So do you." He grins back. "Worth it though."
I shake my head, but I'm smiling too.
"Royce!" A hand claps down on my shoulder, the newcomer oblivious to what he just interrupted. "Great to see you. Sorry I’m a bit late. Had a call with some investors that ran long. I appreciate you waiting to show me to the suite."
I turn to fully face the man, accepting the handshake he offers.