Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
WILLA
I should’ve gone home, but for some reason, I let Chloe and Sutton talk me into another round. And then they talked me into a game of pool, even while their bodyguards—er, boyfriends—stood watch from behind the bar.
All four of the Steele brothers were here tonight, three of them focused on this pool table and nothing else. And I knew if a certain bespectacled librarian had been in tonight, Declan would’ve had his attention snared too.
“Uh-oh,” Sutton muttered, chalking her cue, her gaze caught on something behind me. “They’ve lost patience with us, Chlo.”
I turned around to see both Atlas and Xander stalking toward us, the crowd splitting like the Red Sea.
“Oh, oh!” Chloe bounced on her toes, a bright grin on her face. “You know what that means! Time for three on three!”
“We’re in,” Sutton said, leaning into Atlas’s side as he wrapped a possessive arm around her.
“Your counting’s off,” I said, wondering just how much they’d had to drink tonight. “How about two on two, and I sit this one out?”
“Absolutely not.” Chloe gave a firm shake of her head. “We need Lincoln.”
Xander stepped up behind her and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Don’t love that you said that as soon as I got here, chaos.”
Chloe tipped her head back and grinned at him. “It’s for Willa, obviously. Let’s school the newlyweds since they’ll be all distracted with sex eyes.”
No. No.
The last thing I needed was Lincoln close.
Not when I could already feel him all the way across the room.
I was still too warm from the look he gave me earlier, his words murmured against my lips.
And I was far too rattled from the memory of his mouth on me, his body covering mine, his cock filling me so completely.
I wasn’t drunk enough for this.
I wasn’t sober enough for this.
“He’s working,” I said, trying to sound cool and calm and oh-so casual. “Leave him be.”
Being the good friend she was, Chloe ignored me completely and turned toward the bar, her hands cupped around her mouth. “Lincoln! Your wife needs you over here!”
“Oh my god,” I muttered before downing the rest of my drink.
Sure, Lincoln ignored me completely whenever I told him I didn’t need his help or that I could handle things. But, this? This he paid attention to.
He wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder before tossing it on the counter and stepping out from behind the bar. He strolled over to us, all cocky swagger in those jeans that were made for his ass and that T-shirt that was molded to him like a second skin.
Goddammit, he was hot.
His eyes never left mine as he walked straight to me, only stopping once he was in my space, his feet bracketing mine, his chest close enough that the hard tips of my breasts brushed against him with every inhale.
“You needed me, wife?” He wrapped an arm around me, his fingers lingering on the curve of my ass, that stupid smirk on his stupid face. “Say no more.”
I didn’t want to melt into his warmth. Didn’t want to love how his body fit against mine or how his breath against my ear made me shudder and want things I definitely should not want.
“The only thing I need from you is to keep up,” I said, forcing my voice to be steady as I stepped back and grabbed my stick. “Try not to cry when I win.”
A slow grin swept across Lincoln’s mouth, his dimples flashing. “Goddamn, you’re cute when you’re cocky, hellcat.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “You know what happens when you call a hellcat cute? Her claws come out.”
He grabbed a stick for himself and stepped up behind me, his lips against my ear. “Good. Maybe she’ll use them on my back tonight.”
His words shot a bolt of lightning straight to my pussy as images of me doing exactly that while he filled me over and over slammed into me.
I met his gaze, unable to hide the heat in my eyes. And he was…smirking at me?
Oh, this jackass was good.
He thought he could knock me off my game? Well, two could play at that.
“Ladies?” I asked, my gaze still locked on Lincoln. “You mind if I hand my husband his ass first before we team up?”
“We’ll allow it,” Sutton said with a nod.
“Hell yes, we will!” Chloe settled on Xander’s lap. “Watching you two is gonna be more entertaining than playing.”
Then the table was ours and our audience was forgotten as Lincoln and I faced off against each other.
He racked the balls with the kind of confidence that said he could do it blindfolded. And he probably could. Probably had. He’d grown up in this place, had spent so much time here when he was younger that all this was second nature.
But, for years, I’d been right next to him. Playing alongside him. Getting beaten by him. Beating him.
Which meant this was anyone’s game.
Those hot-as-sin forearms flexed as he lined up the cue, his smirk gone now and replaced by a focus that was razor-sharp. He leaned low over the table, drew the stick back, and broke.
The crack of the shot echoed through the bar, the balls scattering across the felt. A solid dropped into a pocket. Then another.
Shit.
“Well, well, well. Looks like I’m already winning, wife.” He straightened slowly, that smirk back as he locked his eyes with mine. Like he knew exactly what he was doing—to the table and to me. “You planning to play tonight or just stand there looking pretty while I run the table?”
My blood began to boil. Not from embarrassment.
Not from the crowd watching us with barely concealed grins.
No, my response was all thanks to him and that cocky tone and that cockier smirk.
All thanks to the sheer audacity of this man thinking I had any intention of sitting back and letting him win.
He bent for another shot, confidence rolling off him in waves. The cue slid through his fingers, smooth, deliberate—then the ball grazed the corner and spun uselessly away.
I didn’t bother hiding my smile as I glanced at him. Then I made my way over, studying the table.
“I’m not just planning to play.” I leaned over the table, giving him an unobstructed view of my ass and absolutely knowing his gaze was locked on it. “I plan to win.”
I took my shot, a sudden crack splitting the air, and the striped ball sailed into the corner pocket. With a grin on my face, I straightened slowly. And sure enough, Lincoln’s gaze was glued to my ass like he’d forgotten where he was.
I tapped two fingers under his chin. “Eyes up, husband. You’re drooling.”
And that was how the entire game went. Back and forth, like a dance.
I brushed against him on my way around the table. He murmured filth in my ear anytime he was close enough. I leaned too far across the felt, giving him a clear view down my neckline. He stared at me like he was envisioning fucking me right here, damn the consequences.
Every move we made was a dare, every glance a challenge. And somewhere between the flirting and the fighting, I forgot we weren’t alone.
“You sure you’re still up for this, Linc?” I asked when he had three solids on the table to my one stripe. “You’re looking a little…distracted.”
“Oh, I’m up, all right,” he murmured, lining up his shot with maddening precision. Then he lifted his gaze to me. “And you keep bending over this table like you have been, I’m gonna forget we have an audience.”
Chloe snorted from somewhere behind me. “This game is either gonna end with a bar brawl or sex on the pool table.”
“My bet’s on Willa beating him and Lincoln dragging her outside. Possibly by her hair,” Sutton said.
Lincoln and I didn’t look away from each other.
The thoughts flooding my mind thanks to Sutton’s words were pure filth.
Lincoln’s fist wrapped in my hair, him fucking me over this table or the hood of his car.
And from the way he stared at me, eyes heated, lips parted, shoulders tense, I knew he was thinking the same thing.
Which meant it was my chance to pounce.
I shoved the indecent thoughts from my mind as best I could and lined up my shot.
Took a deep, calming breath, pulled back my cue, and let it go.
My last striped ball dropped, and then the eight ball followed, sinking cleanly into the corner pocket like it knew I needed this win as badly as I needed oxygen.
Cue in hand, I straightened and sent him a saccharine smile. “Looks like I won, husband. Time to get back to work.”
With his gaze locked on mine, he crowded me against the table, slow and deliberate, until the edge pressed against my ass and there was nowhere to go that wasn’t into him. “Keep acting cocky, wife. You’re about thirty seconds from being bent over the nearest surface.”
Flames licked across my skin, hot and all-consuming. My thighs clenched, and my mind went blank except for his words, which repeated like a taunt, over and over.
I should’ve backed down. Should’ve laughed it off.
Instead, I met his gaze, begging him without words to make good on every filthy word. “You think that’s a threat? Sounds more like a promise to me.”
Lincoln didn’t tear his gaze away from me, and somehow, we’d gotten closer, our noses nearly touching, our lips millimeters apart. I was three seconds away from grabbing him and kissing the hell out of him, or climbing up his body and—
“Oh my god,” Chloe groaned. “Take it outside, newlyweds! You’re gonna get everyone pregnant just by looking at you.”
Lincoln didn’t flinch, didn’t smile. He didn’t even blink. Instead, he reached down, wrapped his fingers around my wrist, and tugged me behind him. Away from the group, down the darkened hallway, and straight out the back door.
To my doom or my salvation, I wasn’t sure.