Rookie Moves (A Checkmate Inc. Novel Book 2)

by Shelly Alexander

  I freeze. I pull away just enough so our noses graze. “Huh?” I ask. There’s that high intelligence factor rearing its head again.

  “At least not with anyone else in the room.” Ava rests her forehead against my chin. “I wasn’t kidding about not dating much. I swear, I asked for a frequent flyer card from the adult toyshop down the street from my apartment. It’s the only way I can get laid.”

  So many things are spiraling through my mind right now: a) She’s never had an orgasm without battery-operated assistance? Holy shit. b) She’s obviously been dating the wrong guys. And c) Back to the battery-operated assistance. I can’t get the image out of my mind. Ava getting herself off with a vibrator, her other hand flying over her clit. Maybe she’s looking at Tumblr or porn while she does it.

  Or thinking of me kissing her, eating her, fucking her.

  I grind my teeth into dust to keep from coming like a kid having a wet dream.

  If Leo weren’t one of my best friends and my business partner, I’d tell him to fuck-off, toss Ava over one shoulder, and run to my apartment just around the corner. She’d know what she’s been missing within minutes, guaranteed.

  Another revelation barrels right over me. She really is a rookie. In more ways than one. And I want to be the one to teach her until she’s a damn expert on the subject of orgasms. The thought of another guy delivering her very first man-made orgasm makes my jaw go on lock down.

  I bite my tongue to keep from blurting the thing that’s racing through my mind, because “bend over and I’ll fix your problem” probably isn’t the best comeback. She needs to be consoled. Encouraged.

  Okay, let’s be honest. She does need to be bent over and shown the ropes by a master. There is no better solution to her problem than that.

  But I can’t. So back to what I should say to offer comfort as a friend.

  “See?” she finally says to break the earsplitting silence. “You can’t even respond. Do you understand why I need you to be my date? I might be good at my profession, but when it comes to men, I suck.”

  Dear God. I am not picturing her sucking right now. No way am I thinking about her lips wrapped around my dick, her cheeks sunken in from the suction, her head bobbing up and down while I run my fingers through her hair.

  “And do you see why I need you to kiss me now, so it looks real at the reunion?”

  I swallow down the cotton in my mouth. I can do this. She needs me. What are friends for?

  I place the edge of my index finger under her chin and lift her gaze to mine. “One day it will happen, but in the meantime…” I brush my lips across hers and drop my voice to a throaty whisper. “You’re so fucking beautiful that any man is lucky to be with you.” I stress the F-bomb since she thinks it’s sexy. “You should take your fucking time before giving any man the privilege of dating you,” I whisper against her lips. “You’re so goddamn special that you should be very selective who you fuck.”

  The last F-bomb pushes her over the edge, and she devours my mouth with hers in a ravenous kiss.

  Her hands are flat against my chest, and her long, slender fingers flex into my pecs. The muscle I’ve packed on at the gym over the years, thanks to friendly fitness competitions with Leo and Oz, jump under her touch.

  We’re swept away by the wanting, the intimacy of the kiss. I’m just as lost in it as she is, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s as wet as I am hard. I’d love to sink my fingers into her pussy and find out for myself.

  A deep pain of regret stabs me in the chest. No way can I go away with her now. Not after this. It would take a miracle for me not to fuck her in every possible position so she knows what she’s been missing.

  “There you are.” Leo’s voice comes from behind me. “We’ve been looking for you two. Chloe’s ready to light the candles on your birthday cake, Ava.”

  My back is to the door, and I’m so much bigger than Ava that I’m shielding her from view. She takes a step back, and reality crashes over me like a bucket of ice water. I was so lost in the fantasy of finally kissing the girl I’ve wanted for so long, I didn’t hear the door slide open.

  She steps around me. “Hey, numbskull,” she says to her brother in that playful sibling tone they use with each other. I’ve always been oddly envious of their closeness since I’m an only child. “I was just talking to Dex about the reunion.”

  Ava goes to join Leo at the door, and I follow, grabbing my drink from the railing on the way.

  “Dude,” Leo says to me. “You’re doing me a solid by going with her.”

  He slaps me on the back as I walk past him and step into the apartment. The chatter of the guests escalates as the lights dim and Chloe emerges from the kitchen with a gorgeous custom cake shaped like a computer. It’s covered in burning candles and glows in the dark room. Leo falls in beside me, and I stop on the fringe of the crowd to watch Ava join Chloe at the table. Everyone starts to sing Happy Birthday To You.

  “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to watch out for her, you know?” Leo leans over and speaks to me through the din of alcohol-laced party voices that are cheerfully off tune. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

  I don’t want Leo to see my jaw turn to stone, so I hide it behind a drink of Macallan and shove my other hand in my pocket. I swallow down the smooth, stout liquid. I should man up and tell him I can’t go, but I guess Ava and I both have a problem being up front with her brother.

  “Sure. Any time,” I say.

  I doubt Leo would think he owes me anything except maybe an ass kicking if he knew the truth. He’s sending his sister off for a weekend with exactly the kind of man he’s been trying to protect her from since she was sixteen.

  That’s right. Me. Dex Moore. Shitty business partner. Even shittier friend. I want to talk dirty to Ava Foxx while I deliver an earth-moving orgasm. Her first. And the best she’ll ever have.

  Chapter Five

  “Sorry I’m late, but I lost my panties on the way over here,” Ava says as she marches up to our usual table in the back corner of the Bump & Grind. She gives me a perturbed look and slides into the chair across from me.

  I’ve already fixed her coffee the way she likes it, but I stop stirring my Black Eye.

  I spent the weekend coming up with a plan for her reunion so I won’t cross a line I shouldn’t. I even got here a few minutes earlier than our usual seven-thirty AM meet-up time so I could think through what I’m going to say. But now my mind blanks. Did she just say she isn’t wearing panties?

  “Um,” I finally manage to say. Yeah, yeah, I know. My vocabulary is astounding.

  “I mean, who loses their panties on the subway during Monday morning rush hour?”

  I got nothin’.

  Swear to God, I catch myself leaning forward to look over the table. That deep purple sweater dress she’s wearing is so damn clingy that one good look is all I need to determine the status of her lingerie. Or lack of…

  She huffs again, and I lean back in my chair. She adjusts the stylish scarf around her neck, slings her purse—which is the size of an RV—off one shoulder and plops it in another chair. The city is alive and flowing with energy as the foot traffic bustles past the glass window behind her.

  The scent of her soap and shampoo drifts to me like she’s just stepped out of the shower. I’m warmed from the inside out as I breathe in that comforting smell of rain clouds. Fresh. Feminine. Familiar.

  She leans into me and draws in a deep breath. It’s part of our morning ritual. She tries to guess which Checkmate cologne I’m wearing, and it’s always the favorite part of my whole damn day.

  “Wicked Temptation.” She never misses.

  “Give the girl an A.” As a reward, I push the coffee in front of her. She and Leo both have a thing about coffee. They like it mixed up with just the right amounts of cream, raw sugar, and vanilla. It has something to do with their parents, but neither one of them will talk about it.

  “Thanks, Dex.” Her tone softens, and she wraps her lips over
the rim of the cup and sips. Her eyes slide shut, and she moans her approval.

  I’m mesmerized by her soft moan, her full lips, the muscles in her slender neck that move as the bold brew slides down her throat. Add in my insatiable curiosity over panties or no-panties, and I’ve got a pretty good porn flick going on in my head.

  “This is so good.” She opens her eyes. “You do it exactly the way I like it.”

  I can’t help it. I lick my lips. “My pleasure.”

  Her lips curl into a smile, and I know we’re not talking about coffee anymore.

  I clear my throat. “So how did your panties go rogue?” I have to ask.

  She blows out a breath that causes the tendrils of silky hair framing her face to flutter and then settle back against her cheeks. “I brought fresh clothes to the gym this morning.” She takes another drink. “But I dropped my purse getting on the train, and it spilled everywhere. I thought I found everything, but when I went to get dressed after my workout, my panties were missing.”

  My brilliant mind forms several deductions based on what she’s just said. Some perv probably has her panties, I now know the reason for the suitcase-sized purse, and she’s definitely commando under that dress. My fingers curve around my coffee cup. It’s the only way I can stop myself from leaning over to check out her missing panty lines.

  She leans forward in the most intimate way and whispers, “Your eyes just dilated. You’re picturing me pantyless, aren’t you?”

  Hell yes. I shrug. “I’m a guy. ‘Course I am.”

  She gives me a naughty smile. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m fully clothed. I swung by my apartment and got a new pair. That’s why I’m late.”

  Blood starts to flow to my brain again. Thank God, because it was all going to my dick when I thought she was bare under that hot-as-sin dress. But now I’m wondering one thing: what color are they? Okay, two things: is it a thong?

  “I booked two rooms at the Hilton in your hometown,” I blurt. Apparently, not all the blood has circulated back into my head. It has to be done, though. I made sure the rooms were on different floors. “And I got us two train tickets.” Public transportation is part of my plan too. Basically, my strategy is to spend as little time alone with Ava as possible during our weekend away together.

  She shakes her head and downs more coffee. “I’ve got our accommodations taken care of so cancel your reservations. The train is out of the question. Do you have any idea how much I pack to go on a trip?”

  If the purse is any indication, she probably needs a moving truck to carry her luggage. But alone in a car with Ava all the way upstate and back will be torture for me. Especially if she smells as good as she does right now. I won’t need to wear cologne. She’s the very definition of Wicked Temptation.

  “I don’t want to lug all of that onto a train. Can you drive since I don’t have a car?” Ava grabs her purse and starts rummaging through it. I swear, she could swan dive into that thing.

  I’m just about to give her the long list of irrefutable reasons why taking the train is a much better idea when someone squeezes my shoulder.

  “Hello, Dex,” a silky voice purrs into my ear.

  Ava stops rummaging, and her head pops up to stare over my shoulder.

  Her fresh scent is replaced by a thick, rich perfume I’d expect to encounter at a posh country club in the Hamptons. Not a busy coffee shop on a Monday morning in Manhattan.

  I glance over my shoulder and bite back a cuss word.

  “Cynthia,” I say. Actually, the name Cynthia Ethridge is a cuss word in my book. She’s attractive, mid-thirties, and wearing a haute couture dress that matches her perfume.

  And I don’t feel a damn thing when I look at her. The only woman that kick-starts my pulse, makes my chest go tight, and sets the gears of my dirty mind in motion is Ava. The one girl I can’t have.

  Mrs. Ethridge slides into the empty seat to my left without an invitation.

  “Sure. Have a seat.” I don’t even try to hide the smartass tone in my voice.

  “You look great,” she says.

  I can’t help but notice that her lips are a little fuller than the last time I saw her. So are her tits. Props to her plastic surgeon, but I prefer women with a more authentic look. I also prefer them single, and Cynthia’s seventy-eight-year-old, filthy rich husband who doesn’t mind if she strays once in a while was a deal-breaker.

  “Thanks.” I can’t bring myself to return the compliment. Mostly because I’m looking at Ava, and her face has gone a little pale. A surge of anger courses through me. “Cynthia, I’m having a private conversation here, so—”

  “Ava Foxx.” Ava sticks a hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

  Cynthia shakes her hand and sizes Ava up like she’s the competition. No fucking way. Cynthia’s name might as well be Barbie, while Ava is all woman. And temptation. Wicked Temptation.

  I don’t want to be rude, but I want Cynthia gone. I was straight up with her when I broke it off. “Look—”

  “I’m Dex’s friend,” Ava blurts. She throws her purse over a shoulder, stands, and sweeps her coffee off the table. “More like a sister, really. Right, Dex?”

  What the fuck? I give her a fierce look, trying to communicate “sit your pretty little ass down and have my back like I’m going to have yours this weekend.”

  Does absolutely no good.

  “Three’s a crowd.” She won’t look me in the eye. “I’ve got to get to work anyway.” She fingers the bracelets I gave her for her birthday. She pretends to readjust them. “Okay, so see you later.”

  Then she’s gone, leaving me with a woman I have zero interest in and who has just ruined my whole goddamn day.

  I turn a cast iron stare on Cynthia. She’s looking very pleased with herself, like she’s won a round of Take The Guy To My Secret Loft In The Village And Fuck Him. Never gonna happen.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” I say as I stand.

  Her expression turns to shock, but I don’t wait around to see if it morphs into anger because she’s not getting the prize after all.

  I tumble onto the sidewalk and look both ways for Ava. Good thing I’m tall. I can see over a lot of the crowd. A whiz of deep purple catches my eye. She’s already halfway down the block and walking like she can’t get away fast enough. Her head is down, like she’s looking at her phone.

  I push through the crowd and try to catch up.

  “Ava,” I shout.

  She either doesn’t hear me or she ignores me. Not sure which, but she crosses the intersection. I hurry to make the cross too, but the light flashes red, and I’m stuck.

  I pull my phone from my pocket and shoot her a text.

  Slow down, Rookie.

  The dots jump.

  I’m in a hurry. Talk later?

  Damn straight, we’ll talk.

  The light is still red, and Ava is getting smaller in the distance. Then she glances over her shoulder, and my heart squeezes. She doesn’t just look upset. She looks hurt. I can’t figure this girl out. I mean, I know we have this special bond. One minute, I think it goes much, much deeper. The next, I’m reminded it doesn’t. Like last night when she kissed me like a lover, then introduced herself as my friend and almost-sister a few minutes ago in the coffee shop.

  But Ava hurt over Cynthia? I can’t let it go. I fire off another text.

  Let’s talk now.

  The fucking light finally allows me to cross, and I eat up the pavement with long strides. Ava looks back again, and I wave because I think she sees me. Guess not, because she veers to the curb, hails a cab, and jumps in.

  I stop and stare at the back of the yellow cab as it drives away. My phone dings.

  Can’t. Sorry. Too much work waiting at the office.

  All I can think is I’ve never hated taxis so much in my life.

  Chapter Six

  “Dex.” Oz snaps his fingers in front of my face to break me out of the trance. He’s perched on the edge of my desk. “What the hell ha
s gotten into you?”

  A petite blonde with the ass of an angel and a purse as big as her attitude.

  “Are you still jet lagged?” Leo’s seated on my office sofa and doesn’t look up from the four thousand dollar hand-carved chessboard I picked up in Italy several years back.

  I lean back in my executive chair, prop both feet on my desk, and take off my glasses to rub my eyes. This meeting is important. We need to discuss a solution to the foreseeable problems with the expansion. The least I can do is pay attention and stop thinking of Ava.

  But hurting Ava is something I can’t get out of my head, and it’s driving me batshit crazy. I’ve texted her several more times, but gotten no response.

  I release a breath so heavy that papers shift and flutter on my desk. “Not jet lagged. This new venture is already kicking my ass, and we’re just getting started.”

  Leo’s head pops up. “Should we pull back? Put the expansion on pause for a while?”

  I shake my head and thrum my fingers against the leather arm of my chair. “That’s not the answer. This is a good move for Checkmate.” I clear my throat, trying to keep a confident tone so I don’t alarm my partners. Fear is contagious, and now isn’t the time to bail on this project. “Just more costly than we expected. Otherwise, we’ve done the research and market analysis, and laid the groundwork. It’s time to move forward.” I won’t give up on this and become the failure my parents predicted I’d be when I teamed up with Leo and Oz instead of pursuing something “worthy of my intellect.” I’ll make this work and come through for my partners.

  “This is your baby,” Oz says. “Tell us how we can help make it happen.”

  This is the hard part. During my latest trip abroad, it became clear we needed someone on-site to manage the project. Since the expansion is my idea, that someone should be me. After kissing Ava at her birthday party, I’ve realized how much I don’t want to leave her behind. Realized how much I’ll miss her.