揑 need you to wait in here.?He opens the door to our left, revealing an empty suite overlooking the field.
My eyes narrow. 揥hy??
He sighs. 揟he team owner厀ell, he抯 a dick. His father ran things when I got involved, and it抯 been a rocky transition. I was hoping to avoid him. Someone must have told him I was here.?
揑 can handle dicks.?
Crew抯 smile is brief. 揑 can抰。 He抣l hit on you, or worse, and I抣l hit him.?His voice is grim honesty. 揑抎 just gotten access to my trust fund when I invested in this team. It was a stupid whim, and I抦 lucky it paid off. My involvement is minimal. If it becomes a mess, it will be a real pain in the ass.?
揧ou could just, you know, not punch the guy,?I suggest.
揑抦 not going to stand by and let someone insult you.?
揑t sounds more like he抎 be complimenting me.?
He exhales. 揚lease??
That抯 what gets me. The please. I抦 curious to meet this guy. But my inclination when Crew asks me to do something has become to listen, not to argue. So I agree. 揙kay.?
It happens fast. There抯 less than a foot of space between us, so Crew only has to take one step forward before his lips are crashing into mine. It抯 nothing like an obligatory farewell kiss. His tongue teases mine. His teeth tug on my lower lip. His hands pull my hips flush against his.
The sigh when he steps back is heavy with regret and annoyance, neither of which appear to be aimed at me. 揑t抣l be quick, okay??
He抯 striding away toward a waiting Antonio before I can reply. I wander into the suite, feeling a little dazed. It doesn抰 appear anyone watched the game from here today梕verything is spotless.
I walk to the far end of the suite, looking out over the field. This is a very different view than the one from the edge of the grass. The entire field is spread out in a symmetrical rectangle, green grass separated by stark white lines.
I snoop around the suite. Drink some water. Answer some work emails. Sophie texted me this morning, asking about getting together. Aside from one short brunch weeks ago, I haven抰 seen her or Nadia since my wedding. I reply, suggesting they come over to my place for a girls?night next week. My mother responded to the photo I sent of me and Crew in Paris with an invitation we come over for dinner soon. I don抰 know whether to be resentful or appreciative of the effort. Anything regarding my parents usually comes with strings attached. Before Crew and I got married, requests to see me were usually predicated on events where they thought my absence would be offensive.
Finally, Crew returns. Alone, Antonio has disappeared.
揝orry. It took longer than I thought it would.?
I stand and walk over to him. 揑t抯 fine. Means your investment is doing well, right??
His smirk has nuclear side effects. 揜ight.?
My plans for a quick exit rapidly rearrange. I have no idea why I notice the details I do. Crew has a single freckle beneath his left eye. A dark brown circle that is slightly thinner at the top than the bottom. Not perfectly round.
揂re you ready to go??
My response surprises us both. 揘o.?This outing was all him. To plan, to control, to end. Suddenly, I don抰 want it to.
To Crew抯 credit, he reacts fast. 揧ou discovered a deep love of European football??
揘ot exactly.?I press up against him, forcing him back. He doesn抰 have to acquiesce, but he does. I guide him back to one of the couches and down.
Crew抯 eyes are molten pools of blue as he realizes where this is heading. It抯 good梖antastic梖or my ego.
I straddle him and discover he抯 already growing hard. I feel heady with power as I rub against him. He hisses and grabs my hips. 揊avorite position??
揌ave we been here before??I tease.
揝carlett.?
I抳e always liked my first name, the way the syllables sound. Every time Crew says it like this梐s if saying it is a precious gift桰 fall in love with it more. And maybe not just with the eight letters.
揑 didn抰 lock the door,?he murmurs.
揑 don抰 think this will take long.?I stand. Kick off my sandals and pull down my thong.
Crew leans back on the leather couch, his Adam抯 apple bobbing and his eyes half-lidded with lust as I return to my spot on his lap and unzip his shorts. He makes a low grunt as I grip him, his throat working as he fights the urge to thrust in my hand.
His hands creep up my thighs.
揘o touching,?I whisper. 揢nless you beg.?
One of his famous mouth curls makes an appearance as his hands fall away. There was a time when I didn抰 think Crew Kensington was capable of backing down about anything. His reputation is a ruthless one. People like him, but they also respect him. He抯 a worthy opponent and a powerful ally. But for me, he bends.