Verdict (Primrose Hill #3)

1. Ava

Ava

My older brother grabbed my hand and dragged me off the dance floor before Cohen Jordan—his teammate, star shortstop for the Austin Aviators, and best friend—could even open his mouth.

“What the fuck, seriously, Walk?” I groaned.

“Aria needs you,” Walker barked.

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, she does. Ugh. You never let me have any fun.”

He dumped me onto the couch beside Aria. We were out celebrating the Austin Aviators’ World Series win. Walker had been the team’s ace pitcher for eleven years, but this was his last season.

“Not with my teammates.” His arms crossed over his broad chest. If looks could kill.

“He’s not your teammate anymore,” I shot back. “You’re retired now, old man. Remember?” I smirked.

That will piss him off.

Farrah and Aria both snickered. Farrah King was Walker's girlfriend, and Aria King was her younger sister and my best friend.

“He’s still my best friend,” Walker muttered.

I sighed dramatically. “Whatever. Fine,” I relented.

The bar was chaos. Teammates were shouting over each other, and the music was loud enough to rattle the liquor bottles on the shelves.

Walker had been pulled into a dozen conversations already—old teammates, coaches, reporters who somehow slipped past security.

Everyone wanted a piece of him tonight. Eleven years as the Aviators’ ace, and he’d gone out in the best possible way.

A World Series win.

I was proud of him. But my eyes and my mind kept drifting somewhere else.

Cohen Jordan had a way of standing out in a room, like he owned it without even trying.

After my brother had unceremoniously removed me from his arms on the dance floor, he'd made his way back to his teammates. He leaned against a high-top, laughing with Drake Cooper and two other players I didn’t recognize, the neck of a beer bottle dangling loosely between his fingers.

He caught me looking and smiled.

That stupid, devastating grin that surely got him into trouble with women across three time zones.

But that grin wasn't new to me; it was the first thing I’d noticed all those years back in my brother's penthouse. That and the confident, easy way he moved, how people were instantly drawn to him… how I was.

How I still was.

I escaped toward the bar, leaning against the sticky wooden bartop while I waited for the bartender. I pulled my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and groaned. About fifteen unread work emails stared back at me.

The life of an associate attorney.

I opened one and began to scan when two large hands landed on the bar on either side of me, caging me in.

I knew those hands. My eyes drifted up thick, corded forearms as I whipped around—and there he was.

He was the definition of temptation with his mussed chocolate-brown hair and piercing hazel eyes.

That easy grin that melted all of my defenses.

He was criminal.

I smiled, pressing my palm to his solid chest. “Careful, CoJo. My big brother might see you.”

He dipped his mouth to my ear. “Not if we leave.”

I leaned back against the bar and studied him.

Walker’s best friend. The Aviators’ resident playboy. A line I shouldn't cross.

Not just a line—a flashing red boundary with my irrationally overprotective brother’s name stamped all over it. Walker had made his feelings about Cohen and me painfully clear years ago, usually after a beer or two, and always with the same threat that involved breaking his face.

The truth was, Cohen had always been dangerous for me. Not because he was reckless, arrogant, or the Aviators’ most notorious flirt. But because he saw me. Cohen didn’t look at me like I was just Walker James’ little sister.

Would it be a terrible idea to leave with him?

Probably.

Did I care?

Not tonight.

This felt so unlike me, so unlike anything I’d ever done…

and honestly, that made me kind of want to do it more.

I wanted to get out of my head for once and do what felt good instead of what was right.

I usually went into a situation knowing what I was getting into, how it would play out. Prepared. Always.

But with Cohen… I felt out of control and completely unprepared. He had a way of throwing me off balance.

I pushed my internal battle aside. “One more tequila shot for the road?” I offered.

I spun away, his hand settling at the small of my back. I ignored the shiver that raced down my spine and ordered two shots.

Once we had our shots in hand, I lifted mine in a toast. “To your World Series win.”

Cohen grinned. “To tonight… to us.” He threw me a wink that shot straight through me and settled between my thighs.

Dammit—this was definitely a terrible idea.

I stepped into Cohen’s sprawling penthouse, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city lights and Lady Bird Lake beyond. He crossed the room, grabbed a remote, and switched on the fireplace. The crackling fire illuminated the modern space with a soft glow.

I drifted further into the room, my heels echoing softly across the hardwood floors.

The place was ridiculous—vaulted ceilings, sleek furniture, a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine.

Through the windows, Austin stretched out below us.

The lake shimmered with reflections from the bridge and high-rises, the whole city alive with celebration.

“Impressive,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.

Cohen shrugged like it was nothing. “Perks of the job.”

I turned back toward the view, pressing my palms against the cool glass. For a second, I almost forgot he was behind me.

Almost.

I could feel his attention like a physical thing.

Heavy and focused. When I finally turned around, he was watching me like he already knew how this would end.

The look in his eyes made my pulse jump.

Maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe tomorrow morning, Walker would murder both of us.

But tonight, the city was celebrating, the tequila and champagne still buzzing in my veins, and Cohen Jordan was looking at me like he’d been waiting years to get me alone.

And maybe he had—I know I had.

This was a hookup, yes, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt more… intense. I was completely locked in and unable to pretend this didn’t faze me. This was years of suppressed attraction finally snapping.

“Is this how you seduce all the ladies?” I teased as I absentmindedly picked up his Aviators hat from the counter and placed it on my head.

His eyes darkened. "Careful. You know that saying…"

My gaze flicked around the space—deep brown leather, soft cream accents—before returning to him. "What saying?"

"Wear the hat, ride the ballplayer."

"It's cowboy," I deadpanned.

He shrugged. "Same rules apply."

I laughed as I slipped the hat from my head and set it back on the counter. I turned toward him. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”

He didn't answer. Instead, he stalked toward me, and my heart lodged somewhere in my throat. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. I wanted this. I wanted him.

I always had.

Cohen’s amber eyes never left mine as his hands slid up my arms. He cupped my jaw, tilting my face up toward his.

“You sure you still want this?” he asked quietly, brushing his lips against mine.

I trailed my hands up his broad chest, grabbing the chain that hung around his neck, pulling him closer with a nod.

That was all it took.

The kiss was instantly desperate—feral—like we’d been holding back for far too long.

Only about ten years too long, but who's counting?

He was everywhere at once, hands in my hair, pulling me closer as if he couldn’t get enough. I slid my hands under his shirt, raking my nails down his chiseled stomach. He stepped back only long enough to tug his shirt over his head before crashing back into me.

I bit his lower lip. He groaned, the sound vibrating straight through me.

Clothes disappeared in a rush—mine first, then his—until I stood in nothing but lace, grateful I’d chosen this set tonight. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he took me in.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re beautiful, Ava.”

A sly grin spread. “Take your pants off, Jordan.”

He dropped his head back on a laugh as he shoved his jeans down, leaving him in black boxer briefs, hard and unmistakably interested. I glanced down despite myself.

He caught it. “Well?” he asked, smirking. “You going to do something about it, Trouble?”

I shrugged. “Not until you give me a reason to. Right now…” I met his gaze. “I want you on your knees. For me.” I instructed, pointing toward the ground.

His eyes flared. “Fuck me. I’m screwed,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Instead of obeying, he wrapped his arms around my legs and hauled me over his shoulder, carrying me straight into his bedroom.

Things blurred after that—heat, mouths, hands everywhere. Cohen didn’t take his time. He devoured me like a man starved. He lay me on the bed, pulled me to the edge, shoved my thighs apart, and dropped to his knees.

Good boy.

My legs shook as he lapped at me, mouth skilled and relentless.

He tongue-fucked me until I couldn’t hang on any longer.

His mouth, his fingers, it was all too much.

The pressure coiled low in my spine, tightening fast. When he slid another finger inside me, curling just right, I came embarrassingly quickly, screaming his name as the orgasm tore through me.

He gave me one last lick before standing. “You’re probably my new favorite flavor.”

I laughed softly—absolutely wrecked—as I pushed to my elbows, looking down at him, eyes hooded. “You win. That was reason enough.”

Still on my back, I shifted so my head hung off the edge of the bed. Cohen caught on immediately, standing over me, thick and hard.

“You think you can take it all, baby?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes in challenge. “Only one way to find out.”

I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock as the rest of him disappeared into my mouth.

I took him deep, dragging my teeth gently along his shaft, earning a broken groan as he braced himself on the bed.

I pulled back just enough to lick along his length before taking him again, faster this time.

His control snapped, and he took over, thrusting until I was arched off the edge of the bed, heat pooling low in my belly. I moaned around him. His thighs tensed up, and he stepped back away from the bed, slipping his cock from my mouth.

I sat up, wiping my mouth with a satisfied smile. "I wasn't done."

Cohen looked slightly unhinged as he pushed me back onto the bed, hovering over me before kissing me hard.

“I always knew that smart mouth had other talents. But as much as I would love my cum down your throat, I want to be inside of you.” He kissed his way down my body, mouth closing over my breast while his hand teased the other. I arched into him, breath catching.

“Well then, what are you waiting for? Fuck me,” I demanded. “Now.” I was tired of waiting.

He chuckled against my skin and reached for the nightstand.

“I’m on the pill,” I said impatiently, my body buzzing with desire.

He paused, eyes searching mine. “I’m clean,” he said quietly. “You sure?”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. “I trust you.”

Something unreadable flashed across his face before he nodded.

He kissed me softly before easing into me, inch by incredible fucking inch. I dropped my head back on a moan.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“More than okay," I said on a sigh.

We found our rhythm easily—too easily. He touched me like he knew my body. Anticipating exactly what I needed and when. He played me like his favorite goddamn instrument.

“Fuck, if you keep rolling your hips like that, this won’t last long,” he rasped.

He reached between us, applying pressure where I needed it until I shattered beneath him. He didn’t slow. Didn’t let me come back to myself before flipping us, pulling me on top of him.

“Ride me, baby,” he said. “I want to see you come one more time.”

I leaned back, hands braced on the tops of his thighs, rocking my hips slowly until his eyes rolled back.

“Damn you horse girls,” he groaned.

I set the pace until he took over, meeting me thrust for thrust. Moving together like this wasn’t a one-time thing. We came apart together, breathless and spent, before collapsing side by side.

Afterward, the room fell quiet.

Cohen turned his head toward me. “Jesus Christ, Trouble.”

I stared at the ceiling, a soft laugh slipping out. I rolled my head to the side to look at him.

“You know we can never do this again, right?”