She lights up and pushes her chair back at my suggestion.
“Deal.”
“Good. Now get that ass back in my hands. I wasn’t quite done with appeasing your need to kiss me.”
She attempts to hide her smile but fails miserably as she gets up, and I stride toward her. I lock my arms around her and rest my nose against hers.
“You’ve been drinking tonight. I can still taste the rye on my tongue.”
“Would you like another taste?” she asks in the now-limited space between us.
“Please.”
I satisfy her need for me by meeting my lips with hers, and swallowing the moan that escapes her.
I’ve been awake for a grand total of two minutes when Isla comes back from her run and strips down bare in front of me. God help me. This woman is more than good-looking and more than a mere five-foot-three petite fuck. She knows the ins and outs of pleasing both me as well as herself, and she won’t be one to deny it either.
“You’re up early.” My voice is raspy from sleep.
“I had a sunrise yoga class with Hadley before my run.”
“Where the hell do you find this shit?”
“I’m not sure. She just asked me to go, so I did. It was on the terrace at Navy Pier.”
“Are you cold?”
“I’m frozen,” she says as she jumps underneath the comforter, not giving two shits that she’s naked.
“Come here.”
She moves toward me without so much as a complaint as I wrap my arms around her, and the moment she pushes her toes up against my calves I pull back. “Oh hell no. Keep that shit to yourself.”
“What? I’m cold . . . and naked.”
“Obviously, but doll, cold toes and I do not mesh well.”
“You’re the one in my bed, dickweed.”
“Touché.”
I stretch my arms out and push my body up and off of the mattress.
“What time does the game start?” she asks as she nuzzles into her pillow.
“Seven this evening, I believe, so we can leave at 5:30 and get a cab or Uber up there so both of us can drink.”
“That sounds good. So wake me up at five?”
“Seriously?” I ask as I swing my legs off of the bed and stand, walking my horny ass to the shower to relieve the tension that’s been straining my dick since she stripped down in front of me.
“I’m serious. Enjoy your hand.”
I turn to face her as I reach the bathroom door, my cock wanting to go to her and that mouth of hers. “You’re the one missing out.”
She rolls her eyes and turns away from me in an attempt to fight off her own libido. I doubt that she’ll win, though, and I know that she’ll end up using her fingers instead of me to simply prove a point. I head into the bathroom and close the door behind me before I turn on the shower. I strip down and step in, the chilled tiles taking me off guard until the water has had enough time to heat them against my feet.
Thousands of warm drops of water cascade down my body, soaking me. The rivulets drip from my chin and run down my body as I’m heated from the outside in. I groan to myself as the steam starts to fill the room as I proceed with my shower instead of my hand.
Once I’m cleaned off, I turn the shower from the perfect pressure and temperature to frigid cold in order to rein in my dick that’s been refusing to cooperate with me this morning.
By the time I’m done, and I walk out into the bedroom, Isla is fast asleep. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that no one was under the covers, but considering her petite frame, it’s easy for her to get lost in the warmth and comfort of her king-sized bed.
Instead of waking her up, I pull on my sweatpants and head downstairs where my laptop is located and pull up my email from Remission Worldwide. I may have nothing to prove, but RW has constantly been on my mind, and I finally give in to check on my organization.
By the time I return all of the emails that I’ve deemed important, it’s well past one, and Isla is still asleep. I decide on a nap before we hit the ballgame. I lay my head down on one of the throw pillows and knock out until my alarm goes off.
By the time I force my eyes to open, Isla is downstairs moving her body to the music that’s streaming from her phone on the kitchen counter. Her black hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, she’s got on white jeans, and a red and blue Chicago Cubs shirt. It’s the only time that she’ll actually wear colors. A baseball cap sits next to her phone, and I groan in appreciation of her love for this team and the game.
“You’re finally up.”
“Look who’s talking.”
That earns me an eye roll before she pulls the cap onto her head, pulling her hair through the back of it.
“I’m ready when you are.”
“What’s the time?”
“Just past five-thirty. I have an Uber on its way. I figured that you could be ready in three minutes. Or does your taut ass need more pampering than that time would allow?”
“Speak for yourself.” I get up and smack her ass with more force than I mean to as I pass her by to head upstairs to get dressed. She cries out as I take the steps two at a time.
When I come back downstairs, she has her phone and keys in hand while waiting beside the door.
“Come on,” she grumbles and nudges me out of the door with her elbow as I pull the baseball cap over my bedhead. I catch her watching me while she waits for me to step foot out of the loft and into the hallway.
When I do, her eyes run down my torso and then back up to my face. I decide not to push her on her very obvious want. Instead, I place my hand at the small of her back and guide her forward toward the elevator bank.
Our trip from her apartment to Wrigley Field is mostly traveled in silence. I can tell that she’s overthinking something, but I’m too afraid to actually ask her what’s on her mind out of fear of her wanting more than what is between us.
The tension must be too much because our Uber driver pipes in, “So the Cubbies, yeah?”
Isla cracks a smile and pulls the bill of her cap farther down.
“Always, man, always,” I say.
“I’ll be listening from here. Have fun out there.”
“Will do.”
He pulls to a stop, letting us know that the few blocks away is the closest he will be able to get us to the ballpark due to the traffic as well as the blocked-off streets.
I get out and offer Isla my hand, which she takes and doesn’t let go of as we walk toward the ticketing entrance of Wrigley. She stops just shy of the ticket lines and lets go of my hand to spin around with both of her arms outstretched.
“I’ve missed this.”
With her head held high, she effortlessly spins around once more as she scans the hundreds of people around us. The sheer determination I see in her eyes as she takes the few steps toward me has me almost intimidated. Something radiates from within her, and in this moment I find her irresistible. She knows that she’s attractive and highly practiced in seduction, but today, she’s just herself. Isla is not someone who is conventionally beautiful. She’s hauntingly stunning.
Without thinking, I grab hold of her hips and pull her flush against my body. I run my hand over her jaw, before angling my head and taking her mouth with mine.
The majority of our kisses have been rushed and filled with ardor, but for some reason, this one right now seems to match the one that we had on the beach. Our breaths mingle as her arms reach up and tangle around my neck. Her smile breaks our delicate kiss as she pulls back and slides her hands down my chest, resting them on my torso as she looks up at me.
“That was unexpected.”
I pull the bill of her cap down before taking one of her hands. “I couldn’t help it. My hand did me no good earlier today.” I give her the best excuse that I’m able to muster up because I don’t have a single answer that would fit our friends-with-benefits relationship.
“Neither did my fingers.”
She gives me a
radiant smile as we walk toward the line, hand our tickets to the taker, and make our way inside of the ballpark to my season-ticket seats behind first base. We’re in the first two rows so we won’t have to bother getting up for hot dogs and beer, and these chairs happen to be cushioned. My ass is already thanking me.
“I knew that you had connections, but how in the ever-loving shit did you get these seats, Liam?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, honestly.” She must see me blanch because her smile falls. “On second thought, I don’t need the details.”
I shake my head and ask for two local Goose IPAs from the waitress who approaches us before I turn my attention back to Isla and ensure that no one is listening in on what I’m about to tell her.
“I bought season tickets, but my seats were up a couple of rows, the same ones that I had last season until . . .”
She places her hand on my knee and squeezes. “I don’t need to know.”
I shake my head and lean over, speaking against her ear for her alone to hear. “One of the higher-ups in Cubs’ management has a daughter who was taken in Greece. Somehow she was sold to one of the rings that RW encountered when I flew back to Australia from Scotland. I had all of those woman flown to Australia, a total of eighteen of them, and helped them with their injuries. We eventually got her to talk and then I contacted her family. I told them that I didn’t want anything in return, but he must have looked me up, and the next thing I knew, I got an email with my adjusted season tickets as a thank you. I really shouldn’t have accepted them. I almost feel guilty about it. Almost.”
I move back as the waitress hands me the two beers. I take a sip of the foam from one of them before giving that one to Isla. She scowls at me but takes it anyway.
“Thank you . . . and Liam?”
“Yeah?” I answer her shortly because this is not necessarily something that I want to speak about tonight. I’m here to have a great time with my best friend, not to delve into the tribulations of the world.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah? Well, I would have done it for anyone.”
“I know that. You’re an incredible person, and you need to stop disparaging yourself. You’ve put your life on the line to get women who you don’t know out of sickening situations, and I’m sure that you’ve had your fair share of physical violence when it comes to your going in with the team. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
I sigh and down half of my pint of beer before answering her. “Thanks, but I’ve never done any of this for the recognition.”
“I know that, and you need to continue to live instead of being scared of life. You’re alive, and you need to savor what the world has given you.”
“This is some pretty heavy-hitting shit for a ballgame, doll.”
“I’m sorry,” she mutters, and I suddenly feel like shit. I take her hand and lift it up to my lips, placing a kiss on the inside of her wrist before intertwining our fingers together. I shouldn’t encourage this public display of affection, but I cannot seem to help myself this evening. Especially after what she just said. She’s not usually someone who speaks out about savoring life because she’s still learning how to do it herself.
She glances down at our hands and murmurs, “Intertwined lives.”
I’m not entirely sure that I heard her correctly. “What?”
She blanches and shakes her head back and forth quickly. “Nothing. I think I need another beer.”
“I think I need something stronger than this crap.”
“Whiskey?”
“Always, doll. Always.”
We’re at the top of the fifth inning, and I’m unsure if I’m seeing two pitchers on the mound, or if it’s my vision. I lean over to Isla and tug on a strand of what I believe to be her dark hair. “Tell me that you see the second guy on the mound too, please.”
She glances up at me slowly; clearly the couple of craft beers and other alcoholic beverages have had their effect on her as well. “I see four,” she giggles and throws her head back before adding, “are we even winning?”
I chuckle and squint at the scoreboard. It takes me a minute to concentrate enough for the numbers to stop dancing around. “Fuck yeah, we are. It’s four to one. Let’s go, Cubs,” I yell out and clap my hands together.
“Are you sure that’s the score?”
I shrug and take a drink of her beer. “Not one bit.”
She laughs and shoves my arm playfully. In retaliation of her trying to push me away, I throw my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to my chest.
“I think that we both need food, doll.”
“Mmm, nachos please.”
“You sure you don’t want a dog?”
“Nope, I’ll get one later tonight,” she says adamantly and runs her hand over the bulge in my jeans.
“Jesus. Keep that up, and I’ll call an Uber before you get those damn nachos.”
Her eyes go wide as she shakes her head then raises her hand to get our waitress’s attention to place a food order.
She leans over me to place the order, asking for extra cheese and chips.
“Just make it two nachos and two dogs,” I say, trying to help the waitress out.
“You got it,” the waitress says before she struts off, swaying her ass for my double vision.
“Whore,” Isla states and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re obviously here with me,” she snaps, gesturing to my drunken hand on her upper thigh, “but she is insistent on flirting with you each time we order.”
“Ah.” I nod my head and take hold of her chin in my free hand. “It’s a damn good thing that I’m thinking about getting you naked and underneath me on the drive home rather than her then, huh?”
“You were?”
“Isla, I’m always thinking about ways to get into those tight jeans of yours.”
She squeezes her thighs together, almost crushing my fingers at the same time.
“If I didn’t know that you used to be a gymnast in your formative years, I might have been worried about the strength you harbor in your legs.”
She leans forward and licks my bottom lip just as the waitress returns to serve us. “All right, here we go,” she says as she attempts to hand us our food.
I chuckle at Isla’s audacity and lay my mouth against hers in a full kiss before pulling away and squeezing her thigh.
“You’ll get it later, baby doll.”
“I know I will,” she says as she bites at the corner of her lip.
I turn back to the waitress and take the food, handing Isla a tray of nachos and putting the other on my thigh next to my second hot dog.
“Eat up. I’ll need you somewhat sober to blow me.”
She leans over and whispers in my ear. “You just like the lipstick stain that I leave behind.”
“More than you know.”
I watch her run her tongue over her bottom teeth, and my cock jumps to life. She’ll get it good later for playing dirty while I’m trying to enjoy my Cubbies and buzz.
The Cubs won seven to four last night, and I’m not entirely sure how we got out of the park, ordered an Uber, or made it up to her loft. When I open my eyes, the morning light shines into her room, and I shut my eyes in an attempt to avoid the massive hangover that I know will hit me in three . . . two . . . fuck me. I groan quietly as my head starts to pound.
“Shh.”
I shift and open one eye to look down at Isla, who has her head buried underneath her pillow, her Converses still on, and her shirt off.
“You’re a fucking mess.”
“If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll sit on your face.”
“That actually sounds rather intriguing.”
That gets her to shift and glance up at me from her pillow fortress. “Shut it, dickweed.”
“Glad my cock can get you high, sweetheart. I’ve told you that once, and I’ll keep telling you
.”
She reaches over and tosses a pillow in my face for speaking.
“So I’ll take that as no hangover sex?”
“Who has hangover sex?” she says with a groan.
“We do.”
“As of when?”
“Now.”
I pull her on top of me, and she steadies herself with her hands on my bare chest. My hands roam down to her sides, and it feels like I’m drunk all over again with the feeling of my hands being exactly where they belong.
Fine. I’ll admit it.
I do, at some point in my life, want to fall in love with the right man. Yet as I stand behind the bar of Blended while Wade goes over the expansion plans, I’m afraid that my heart might be pulling me in a direction that I know it cannot go.
Should not, cannot, and will not. Nope. I refuse to fall in love with my best friend and be part of one of those couples that were always meant to be. He’s not interested in more than what I’m giving him, and I know, regardless of how much and how often I lie to myself, that I am.
“Isla. Pay attention,” Wade says and stares at me blankly.
“Huh? Oh. Sorry, Brass.”
“Where’s your head? I thought that you’d be more interested in the expansion.”
“It’s not important, trust me. So you’ve already bought the bar next door?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And Hadley is all right with that? I mean, a lot happened to her in there.”
“All of this was her idea.”
I raise a brow at him and nod before looking down at the blueprints again.
“When will it be taking place?”
“The contractors will be here this afternoon before you open up, and they will start tomorrow morning.”
“Wait. It’s happening that fast?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ve hired the best, and with the kind of money that I’m throwing at them, they have projected that it will be done two weeks from today.”
“Two Sundays away?”
“Correct.”
“Are we going to close for the duration of the expansion? I’m not entirely sure that the patrons or any of the members would enjoy the noise and dust that will occupy the space.”
Intertwined: A Redemption Novel Page 8
