15. The Office
Chapter 15
The Office
Kolby
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I say as I kick the door shut behind me and lean down to take her mouth again.
Her lips are perfect, hot, and wet. She tastes like lemon and heat—heat that I want more of. I run my tongue along her lip before diving inside her mouth.
So good, real good.
I break the kiss, and when she groans in protest, I regret it, but you have to do what you have to do. I’m starting by clearing a few things up.
I grab her hips and lift her, setting her on her desk. Heart hammering, I then step back until I’m leaning against the door. “I need to know what you want.”
“What I want?” She asks, pushing back the strands of hair that must have fallen out when I had my greedy-ass fingers in it.
I run my hand through my hair. “You make lists. Here, in the folder. You make rules at your place.”
“I mean, that’s just to stay organized, so steps aren’t …” She stops and bites her lower lip.
“I don’t wanna miss steps with you. Hell, I don’t wanna miss a damn thing.”
“I’m pretty sure we’re doing real good, Kolby.”
“Yeah, well, I’m struggling with the fact I can’t ask you to be my girlfriend when I still have a … wife.”
“Legally, you’re separated,” she states.
“You deserve better.”
“You are my better,” she says, pulling her legs up and resting her chin on her knees.
And you are becoming my everything.
“I, uh … Ava’s ready to go to war with her.”
“I’ll take up arms and join her.” She says this like it’s nothing, but that’s so far from the reality of the situation.
“And I’ll fight in any war you ever face, Lauren, because I am yours in a way that I don’t understand. In reality, I don’t want to, ’cause this”— motion between us then touch my heart—“is here and feels like it always has been.”
“I know.” She places her pretty little hand over her heart. “You get that I’m yours in that same way, too, right?”
“Feel it; I just needed to hear it.” I look down, angry because if any time was perfect to say those words, it was right now. “I can’t tell you I love you until I’m divorced.”
“Then don’t,” she says, fighting back a smile, but those eyes tell the full story. “Doesn’t mean I can’t tell you that?—”
I’m fast, but I never realized I could be this fast.
My lips take hers, and her hands take my face in that way that makes me feel … wanted in the same damn way I’ve only felt with her. The way that if she doesn’t already know, I want her just the same. No, fuck that, more.
Her legs wrap around my hips, and she moans.
I lift her up, pulling her tight against me, giving her what she’s asking for while taking what I need. Her … tasting, devouring, breathing her in, fingers digging into her hot, tight ass as she grips my shoulders and grinds against me.
I don’t even know we’re moving until we have nowhere left to go.
Her back’s against the wall when she breaks our kiss, panting, and grabs my shirt, “I need to feel you.”
Our lips smash together again, but she pulls back too damn quick.
“And I need to taste you.” I drop down to my knees, unbutton her pants, and swiftly yank them and her panties down below her knees and press my mouth to her belly, licking and nibbling my way across from one side to the other.
She whimpers as her hips lift and gyrate in small circles.
“Need one of your legs free,” I say against her soft skin, inhaling her scent—lavender and need.
“I want you inside of me,” she whimpers as we free her left leg.
“Not here.” I lift her leg up and over my shoulder, slipping her soft, wet folds apart with my tongue.
“Kolby,” she breathes out.
I push my hands behind her and squeeze as I dive in, tongue first.
Her hands are in my hair. She’s whimpering like it pains her to stay still.
“Never been so turned on in my entire life as right now.” I lick around her clit and groan as I slide a finger inside her wet heat then out again before I resume feasting on her.
I lick with long, hard strokes of my tongue, then fuck her with it, in and out of her sweet center, as she thrashes her head from side to side, fighting to stay still.
I replace my tongue with my finger, pushing in deep as I watch her war with her pending release. I push a hand up her shirt and squeeze her breast. “Lo, fuck my face.”
“Yeah?” she breathes out in a soft rasp.
“Fuck yeah.”
It starts slow but doesn’t stay that way.
“Your taste is my tonic.” I swipe my tongue across her again, and I don’t stop as her nails dig into my scalp. Yeah, fuck yeah.
Moments later, her legs begin to shake, and I look up, seeing her still holding back. I can’t let that happen.
I slip her tit out of her bra, still fingering her, licking her. When I pinch her nipple and roll it, she comes undone in the sweetest, quietest way.
I kiss up her body slowly. “Your taste is my favorite flavor in the world.”
“Yeah?” she pants.
“Yeah,” I say, kissing her neck.
“Show me,” she whispers.
I brush my lips across hers like I’m painting her. Her tongue slowly strokes across mine then between them.
“Mmm.”
* * *
She leaves the office first and gives me the time I need to let things calm down. I hit the bathroom to wash my face, and I do it regretfully.
As I’m walking out, my phone sounds off, I pull it out of my pocket and see it’s a security alert number.
Legacy Security: In a combined effort with the local police and Buffalo City Police, we have four suspects being questioned about The Stables incident. We’re sticking to the precautions already set in place but assume that will change as more information comes in. We’re in the homestretch, Knights. We will update you again as soon as we can.
Not only is that good news, but it’s a great distraction.
I walk out of the hall and join a group of some of the guys.
“Buffalo never messed with us. Why now?” Hunt asks.
“Don’t give a damn. It’s another night of Mortal Kombat at Casa Hart.” Salazar holds up his fist for Skinner to tap.
Skinner shakes his head. “I’m out. Three nights before the game, and I need some sleep.” He looks at me. “Lo’s place still open?”
I glance over at the bar. “I don’t know. I’ll ask.”
“Don’t ask, man—make it happen.” He scowls and pouts at the same damn time.
I walk over and see my seat’s still open, so I take it.
Lo spots me from where she’s talking to Mickey and smiles. She re-braided her hair.
Mickey glances over and steps back, nodding to me. “Go. This can wait.”
“Need something?” she asks.
“Skinner wants to know if we can stay at yours until we get cleared to go back.”
“Um … let me think about that.” She taps a finger on her lips as she looks up. “Okay, yeah, I’ll take one for the team.”
* * *
I close the washing machine and hit the start button, fully aware I should question my sanity because of the fact I love the idea of her clothes and mine tumbling around in there together, but I’m not going to. I then head out of her utility room and to the fridge.
She’s got exactly what I expected: cold brew, leftover soup in a mason jar, a half-eaten bag of shredded cheese, and a sticky note on a takeout container that reads, “ Don’t touch unless you’re brave or dumb. ”
“We need to grab some food. We should make a list.”
“I’m making one as we speak,” he says smugly.
I shut the door, turn around, and see Skinner, who’s already making himself at home on the couch with what appears to be a poster board and a box of arts and crafts.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He places the cap back on the marker. “We’re establishing boundaries.”
I squint at him. “Come again?”
He hold up the board.
HOUSE RULES – KNIGHT LOCKDOWN EDITION
By: Skinner
Enforced by: Fear
Rule #1
Kolby sleeps in the spare room.
Rule #2
No late-night horizontal cardio when teammates are in the house.
Rule #3
If you break Rule #2, I’m blasting showtunes at 6 a.m.
Rule #4
If I hear anything that sounds like a headboard tapping, moaning, or
suspicious floor creaks, I’m texting the group chat. All of it.
Rule #5
Nobody’s getting laid until we’re playoff-bound. We’re in monk mode.
Period.
Rule #6
If Kolby looks too smug at breakfast, he gets decaf.
I stare at the list. “You done?”
“Almost.” He then sets it back down, opens the marker, and goes at it again.
I grab a bottle of water and walk over to read over his shoulder
Rule #7
Lo doesn’t know about the list. If she does, Kolby’s paying my therapy bill.
“You are truly a menace.”
“I’m a professional athlete . And you, my friend, are disturbingly relaxed for a guy who’s been couch surfing for days before the biggest game of his life.”
I can’t help but smile at seeing Skinner now acting like this isn’t just any given Sunday we’re approaching.
And then he opens his damn mouth.
“There’s a very hot, very pregnant woman living right next-door. I haven’t had sex in a long-ass time.”
I’d laugh if I didn’t know he was being serious. I sit down instead.
“She’s not your pregnant woman,” I offer.
“And my hands are not”—he stops abruptly and, for once, seems to ponder his thoughts before speaking—“actually the babes I’m picturing while rubbing one out, but, yet it gets the job done in a pinch.” He sighs and crosses his arms. “But Hart, Boone, and now you are all coupled up, and it’s putting thoughts in my head.”
I smirk and take a slow sip. “You jealous of our?—”
“No. Sort of?” He sighs. “A little. The bed’s squeaky, the walls are thin. If I hear so much as a zipper tonight, I will throw a shoe at your door.”
Amused and unable to help myself, I toss him a throw pillow. “Sleep on this. You sound tense.”
“I’m writing one more rule,” he mutters, scribbling away.
Rule #8
Grimes owes me a therapeutic hooker when I move out and can’t unhear that kind of trauma.
I’m laughing when there’s a knock on the door, and it opens behind me.
Luke Lane walks in. “Skinner, you wanna go grab some groceries with me?”
“Fuck yes, I do.” He stands up and looks at me. “You wanna come?”
“Doing laundry, including yours,” I remind him.
“Shoot me a list?” Skinner asks.
“Brown rice, eggs, chicken breast and thighs, broccoli and spinach, and yeah, more eggs. You need me to text that?” I ask.
“Nah, he’s got it.” Luke winks.
“No jerky?”
“Get mine delivered monthly,” I answer.
“Beef?” Luke asks.
“Mostly, yeah.”
“Have you ever had venison jerky?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Bring you some back.”
* * *
I’m folding towels when the door opens, and I expect to see Lo walk in, but it’s not. It’s Ava.
“Hey Grimes.”
“Hi, uh, Ava. You just missed Luke. He?—”
“I’m here to unofficially see you.”
“Unofficially?”
She holds up her hand and makes a really fucked-up hand signal that is pretty fucking lewd. “This isn’t me spanking it. Contrary to talk, I’ve heard I don’t have a dick. This is me shaking a can of spray paint.” She bends down and does … something? “And this is me drawing a line.” She tosses her imaginary spray can over her shoulder and takes a giant step over it. “And this is me?—”
“I think I caught that one.”
“Yeah, well, now that you’re boning my sister-in-law, who happens to be one of my children’s favorite people, you have to deal with me.” She walks over next to me and removes her crossbody bag, sets it on one of the stools, pulls out a folder, and drops it on the towels. “All that in there is public record. A web search is all it took to find out your name was on the penthouse as the co-owner, which was necessary to make you legally obligated to pay because of the most fucked-up prenup I’ve ever seen, and somehow you were able to sign for the sale of it and have it notarized in New York City while you were in-flight to our LA game.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “All right.”
“Just all right?” she gasps.
“I appreciate you doing that, but?—”
“No, Kolby, no buts. Because it’s not just you, it’s Lo. And the way you two have been circling each other since day one, it’s going to be my nieces and nephews one day.”
Fuck …
“The contract we’re going to give you caps our salary, and you deserve that. But this family, who went all-in based on what Knoxville did to one Cohen, who grew up with us, is Logan’s best friend … they deserve to reap the benefits of our investments.” She sits down. “I know men like you. I’m surrounded by them. When you have to hand over millions, Kolby, double digit millions to that bitch and her family, you’re taking away from your family. You’re taking away from whatever charity that, to your bones, you have to support because you know from some life experience that when a kid like you gets a scholarship, it changes his life.”
“Ava, I?—”
“One phone call, not court. One, Kolby, and just the threat of going to the board, and you’ll be done with this. Which, by the way, he doesn’t deserve. He deserves to rot, and not just because what he’s done to you, but what he does to so many others.”
“One phone call?”
She holds up a finger. “One.”
“And if he says take me to court , you’ll back off?”
“No, I’ll bring in dozens of other files of people this man has ruined to convince you otherwise.”
I sigh.
“Fine, I won’t do that. And when I make the call, I won’t cross lines.” She holds up three fingers. “Girl Scout promise.”
“You were never a Girl Scout.” Lo laughs as she comes through the door.