Cocky Score (The Hawkeyes Hockey Series)

Out on the ice is the place where my mind is the clearest. The world can be going to shit, but my laser focus on my job pulls me out of it. Today is a different story because the only thing I can think about is Autumn and what happened last night. I kissed her, and maybe I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t stop myself. Autumn isn’t like the women I’ve met over the years.

This morning, we had an early skate, so I left before she got up, and when I was getting dressed, a text pinged on the phone. I walked out of the bathroom to see who it was, but it wasn’t my phone. It was Autumn’s. Apparently we have the same sound for notifications. I didn’t open up her phone, but I didn’t have to. The notification was short enough that I could read his text flash over her screen.

Then a quick second text.

I’m not her real boyfriend, and she already told me that she was seeing someone else. Still, I want to text him back and tell him to stay the fuck away from Autumn, but that’s not my call. Instead, I finished brushing my teeth with a little extra vigor than usual and left the apartment, heading to the stadium.

Isaac had already left for the gym. I was glad not to have to see his not-so-happy ass this morning after I came out of the bedroom from sleeping next to his sister all night. The fucking cock blocker.

Autumn’s miracle cream did a pretty damn good job of taking away the swelling. Icing it half the day helped it along as well, although I usually sport my battle wounds from a game or bar fight as a badge of honor. Even so, the discoloration was still enough that everyone asked about the shiner since all my teammates already knew I didn’t take a shot to the face last game.

I skate out onto the ice, lining up for drills.

I take a deep breath in, loving the feeling of the cold snap against my lungs. Being on the ice is my favorite place. It’s a place where I can get away from the world, where I can block out the noise and do what I do best. Play hockey.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” Reeve Aisa, one of our two goalies, asks, skating up to me and getting in line.

Seven Wrenley, our other goalie, skates up, too, taking a quick look, although he tries not to make it obvious. He pretends he’s too old for gossip, but he’s never too far from listening in on it.

Lake Powers skates over directly after, undoubtedly, not to mind his own damn business. He eyeballs my cheek and whistles. “Damn. Did you get in a fight with a fucking semi-truck? By the look of it, the Freightliner won.”

“Shut up, asshole,” I mutter, watching the other guy’s head over.

Lake laughs.

“Hey everyone, check out Briggs’s face!” Lake yells to the guys at the far end of the ice headed our way. “Turns out his new girlfriend is a little feistier than he can handle.”

“Fuck off, Powers, and start skating your damn drills,” Ryker Haynes, our captain and center, says, skating up to us and spraying ice at Lake.

“Mill your damn gossip on your own time. I don’t want to be here all damn day, and Coach said we can go home early. I got a little girl begging to go to the park,” Kaenan says, skating up and parking himself on the left side of me.

“More like a nanny that wants to try out your teeter-totter,” Lake jabs.

“His tiny otter?” Brent Tomlin asks, skating up to the line with a furrowed brow as if he should take offense. “Who has a tiny otter?”

I’d believe it if someone told me that Brent had taken too many hits to the head, which caused severe hearing loss. The guys can never hear worth shit.

“Don’t worry, it’s not your otter,” I say.

“Damn straight, it’s not my otter,” Brent retorts. “My otter is huge.”

“Jesus. Can we fucking skate already?” Kaenan hollers.

“We’ve seen your otter, Tomlin. It must have been the runt of the litter,” Lake retorts.

“Fuck you, Powers, it’s never had a problem cracking open clams!” Brent yells.

“If you assholes don’t shut up, I’m making you do burpees til you puke,” Bex Townsend, our coach, threatens from the side of the home team bench, his stopwatch in one hand, clipboard in the other.

We hear Bex’s whistle, and we all push off the line. Drills have begun, and there’s no more room for bullshitting. We’ll have to save the rest for the locker room.

An hour and a half later, Bex lets us go for the day. Kaenan is out like a flash, and the rest of us head for our cars as well. I’m looking forward to getting home before Isaac in order to get in a little time with Autumn before her brother gets back to the apartment, and then the walking on eggshells begins again.

She mentioned yesterday that she has a coffee meeting with Tessa and Penelope this morning to go over logistics and to touch base on how our media campaign is unfolding, but I’m hoping she’ll be home by the time I get back, not that she’s expecting me home this early.

I need some clarification on what’s going on with her and Derek before anything between us continues. Some people might accuse me of being a player, but I don’t fuck women with boyfriends or husbands.

I step off the elevator, and the aroma of freshly baked cookies hits me immediately. I know that smell, and it smells like my childhood. Like sleepovers in Isaac’s treehouse and cold winters in Walla Walla with warm cookies and hot chocolate.

I input the keycode to our apartment and push through the door as soon as the light turns green. Walking through the door of our temporary apartment, I find a scantily dressed Autumn standing in the kitchen in only a pair of light pink boy shorts and a grey crop top, standing in front of what looks like three batches of cookies laid out on cooling racks and parchment paper covering every inch of the granite countertop.

She yips in surprise just barely losing the baking sheet filled with freshly baked cookies and spatula out of her hand when the apartment door finally closes, and she realizes she’s no longer alone.

She spins around to find me standing in the entry way watching her.

“Oh my gosh, you scared me! You’re home,” she says, spinning back away from me to where several cooling racks are lined up, full of chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.

She tries to quickly to get the last cookies off the baking sheet. “I was about to take a shower after I got back from the gym, but after I started undressing, I decided I wanted to have cookies done and cooled before you and Isaac got home. I thought you two could come to a treaty deal over milk and cookies.”

“So you decided to bake naked?” I ask, watching a half-dressed Autumn scurry to finish her task.

“I’m not naked!” she argues, rushing through to get the cookies pulled off the baking sheet, probably so she can escape back to the master bedroom to seek refuge. The ferocity of her spatula-wielding is causing her ass to jiggle in those tiny little pink boy shorts of hers, and I’m fucking mesmerized.

Her ass isn’t small and dainty like a runway model, but it’s also not the size of a backup dancer in an early 2000s MTV rap video. What Autumn Daughtry has is the ass of a woman. With just the right amount of perkiness to it but enough volume in it to make it ideal for pushing up against from behind. I bet it’s a little more than a handful for each cheek, and I’m tempted to walk over and test out how much more of a handful it really is.

My mouth is watering to the point where I should probably see a doctor to make sure it’s not some kind of condition because I’m not sure whether it’s the cookies I’m craving or her.

If I was a smart man, I’d make sure never to touch Autumn Daughtry again in order to avoid imploding my friendship with my oldest friend. This relationship is fake and temporary, so even more reason to make sure we don’t fuck anything up in our real lives for when we have to go back.

Too bad I’m not a smart man.

Autumn

Briggs is home!?

I thought practice was much longer. If I had known he was , I wouldn’t be standing half-naked in this kitchen.

“I thought you were at practice,” I say as I can feel Briggs start to cut the space between us.

“I thought you had a breakfast meeting with Tessa and Penelope?” he fires back, still coming closer and rounding the kitchen counter and heading toward me.

“I do, but Tessa had to postpone. Something about reaming out Lake Powers for some inappropriate post.” I tell him, fidgeting under his watchful eye as he’s now right behind me. “We’re meeting in an hour instead, so I had time to go to the gym and make cookies.”

I can feel Briggs inch closer as he settles directly behind me, dressing it a pair of dark wash jeans that he wore to the fights and a tight-fitting t-shirt from a company that he endorses. His dark blond hair damp, likely from showering after practice. If I took a step back, my bum would push up against his crotch. I can feel little goosebumps along my arms. Even the baby hairs around my face tremble with need to the heat of his mouth.

“They smell amazing. Chocolate chip oatmeal?”

I can hear the deep tone of his voice right behind me, and I’m all too aware of how little clothing I have on. My belly flips as I feel his eyes on me.

“Yeah.”

“Those are my favorite,” he says, another step closer and peering over my shoulder, watching me work.

He’s wearing jeans today and the budge of the denim that covers the zipper slides against my bum ever so gently that I barely feel it but it sends a shiver down my spine.

“I know—” I say softly, almost in a whisper, but he catches it.

Shut up, Autumn.

“You made these for me?” he matches my whisper, the heat of his mouth radiating against my neck.

“I made them for you and my brother. They’re his favorite too.” I fake a defensive tone.

Not true. He’s never been fond of the oatmeal portion. That’s all Briggs. But that won’t stop Isaac from demolishing a whole baker’s dozen in one sitting, along with a half-gallon of milk.

Savages, both of them.

“Hmm. Well, I’m starving, so thanks—”

I smack his hand with the spatula still in my hand as he reaches for a cookie over my shoulder.

“Ouch!” he says, shaking his hand out and smiling when I look over my shoulder.

“They haven’t cooled yet. You’ll have to wait.”

“Bullshit,” he says, grabbing the spatula out of my hand and smacking my bum with it.

“Hey, ouch!” I yell back, rubbing the spot where Briggs spanked me with the extra wide spatula I bought specifically for pulling large cookies off baking sheets.

“Be a good girl, and let me eat your cookies, or I’ll spank you again.”

Umm, can you say that entire sentence again so I can commit it to memory?

“What!? No! You’ll have to—”

Before I can finish my thought, Briggs wraps his left arm around my middle and hoists me up against him, my back to his front. He shifts me to the left side of his body, and I try to squirm out of his hold while he grabs two cookies with his other hand and sandwiches them together, taking a giant bite. I can’t ignore the fact that Briggs can hold up my entire weight with only one arm and doesn’t flinch when I try to wiggle loose.

“Mmmm.” He groans, and a zing rolls through my already-warming center.

“Put me down this instant.”

Please don’t put me down.

And he doesn’t. Instead, he takes another bite.

“Damn, these are good,” he says, stuffing the last of his cookie sandwich in his mouth. “I almost forgot how good.”

He finally sets me back down, and I spin around and punch him in the arm.

“Wow, wow, little tiger. It’s just a couple of cookies,” he says, putting his hands up in defense. “You have enough here to feed the entire Hawkeyes team.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have made you any cookies,” I huff.

“Hey now,” he says, taking a step closer, “I’m grateful for the cookies… and the view.” His eyes brush over my body.

“The view isn’t part of the deal,” I say.

He takes another step so that my breast just barely grazes against the bottom of his rib cage.

“Speaking of, how would Derek like it if you were walking around half-naked with me in the house?”

“I’m sure he would find that inappropriate of me to do while with a client. But his opinion is irrelevant.”

“Because we’re living together?” he asks, seemly fishing, and after what happened last night, I guess I get why he would ask.

“Because he and I put everything on hold until this project is complete and you and I get back to our old lives.”

The old life where Briggs has hundreds of women throwing themselves at him.

There’s a little bit of melted chocolate from the cookie in the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got something…” I lift my hand, and Briggs leans in closer. My index finger glides over the sugar confection and wipes it off his lip while his right hand reaches around my back and his left hand slides along my left butt cheek that’s only covered in underwear and pulls me flush against him. I pull my hand back and suck my finger into my mouth, licking the chocolate off my finger that used to be melted against his skin.

“Fuck,” Briggs growls and then before I can register his movement, his left hand reaches around me too, and his hands squeeze my bum, plastering me tighter against his hard erection.

His warm lips descend down against mine with a heated pressure as he backs me up against the island, his lips on mine, one hand in my hair pulling my mouth closer to his, one keeping hand gripping my butt tighter as he pins me in place.

He picks me up and sets my bum on the island. “My brother…”

He stops and pulls his lips off mine.

“Really? You want to bring him up right now?”

I giggle. “I’m sorry… it’s just that he could walk in at any minute.”

“Then he’s going to get an eyeful because I’m still hungry.”

“You’re what?” I hear my voice shake at the question.

Briggs pushes me towards the island and then lifts me up and sets me down on the cold granite countertop of the large island. He places a hand between my shoulder blades and then lays me down gently, flat on my back. He hooks his fingers under my knees and lifts them up, placing my heels behind my bum on the counter and then slides his index finger into the sides of my boy shorts, pulling them down slowly off my bum, past my thighs and then off my feet.

Seeing Briggs hover over me is a dream. How is this happening?

No one wake me!

“What are you planning to do?” I ask, forced to crab walk back to make room for my heels on the edge of the counter and feeling a little self-conscious to be lying naked from the bottom half while he watches every movement I make.

“I told you… I’m still hungry, and if you’re going to make me wait for the cookies to cool, then I’ll eat something else.”

He turns back toward the cookies on the back countertop, and I watch as he breaks a cookie in half, his index finger scooping up some melted chocolate from one of the melted chocolate chips and turns to me. “I wonder which will be sweeter. The chocolate or your pussy.” He gives a devilish grin that creates another flutter of butterflies through my belly.

I take in a sharp breath as Briggs trails his index finger and spreads the chocolate through my slit. His finger is gentle but even though there is nothing gentle about the way I want Briggs. My center clenches instantly with a sense of urgency to feel all his fingers on me. Tingles burst at the base of my skull, and I arch into his hand. Then dips his head down between my knees, and the memory of the thirty minutes I spent on the treadmill hit me.

I clamp down on his head with my thighs before he reaches his intended destination. “Wait!” I panic, hearing Briggs’ sexy chuckle at my reaction as his head is stuck, sandwiched between my legs. “I haven’t showered yet from my workout.”

He looks up at me with hooded eyes and dilated pupils; a sexy smirk tops off the full vision of pure sex. “Good. I like a little salt with my sweet.”

A mouse squeak of a sound must have come from my throat, and my eyes widen at him. I have no idea what to say back to that. I’m having an out-of-body experience, and I can’t be sure. The satisfied look on Briggs’s face that he’s affecting me as he intends suggests that the sound came out of me.

I’m not usually this timid during sex, and I’m no stranger to oral, but seeing a hockey star between my thighs, telling me he’s hungry to eat me and filling me with chocolate has me a little flustered.

“Maybe I should shower first?”

“Not on your life. I’ve been thinking about doing this all morning, but I thought better of it… until I walked into this apartment and you making me batches of cookies in your underwear. Now there’s no way you’re leaving this kitchen without having my tongue inside you.”

He doesn’t wait this time for me to respond, which is just as well because I have no more words. His fingers glide down slowly from my knees, where his hands are resting, down the inside of my thighs and then dig under my bum as he grips on tight, bringing his mouth down to meet them. His tongue gives a long lick through me and the chocolate he swiped there.

I moan softly, my eyelids flutter closed at the sensation, and I listen for the sound of my exhale, the last trace of resistance leaving my body. I can’t deny him now, and I won’t. If this is how he wants to repay me for chocolate chip cookies, then I should have made a hundred batches and delivered them to him years ago.

I’ve always heard the saying that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I always thought that was a load of crap. But now I know… it’s actually the way to his tongue.

And God is he good with his tongue.

He bares down as he sucks, licking me clean of any trace of chocolate left. My back comes off the granite, arching up and pressing myself further against his mouth.

He hums, and the vibrations just about set me off, pressure building the low of my belly, my clit beginning to pulsate, and I can hear my breathing laboring. Just as he’s about to pull his mouth off me, his teeth drag over my mound, and his sharp teeth skate across the top of my clit.

“Oh!” I moan out, my fingers desperate to find something to grip onto as I fumble with trying to grip the edge of the counter’s rounded edge, my back arching ever more dramatically, inadvertently pressing my center closer toward the countertop, making it harder for Briggs to get his mouth on me.

His mouth pulls off me because of the angle I caused. I didn’t realize how much I needed that short reprieve because I was a second away from coming, and even though I want to, there’s something still holding me back. But Briggs isn’t on the same page.

“You’re not going to shy away from me now. We’re too far gone for that,” he says, bringing his index finger to my warm wet center and slowly twisting inside me.

“Oh God.” I whimper, gripping his wrist that has his finger inside me.

“Take one more,” he says and adds a finger inside me.

I can feel my body begin to shake with my climax about ready to careen through my body.

I try to steady my breathing, but I can’t. I’m at his mercy as he stands between my thighs, watching me, his eyes fixed on seeing me come. It feels vulnerable to be in this position, half-naked, while a fully dressed man eats me and then fingers me to oblivion, but my body is so desperate for release that my brain can only truly focus on one thing. Getting off on Briggs’s hand and mouth.

“I’m… I’m…” I inhale a sharp breath, and then Briggs’s fingers curl in, swiping over the sensitive spot that isn’t always easy for the opposite sex to find, and my body detonates around him.

I moan out an inherent jumble of words as my body shakes in his hands as my orgasm takes over.

He stands there, soothing me still with his fingers until my shivers finally stop.

I look up at him between my thighs, a look of need in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he says.

“Thank you… for that,” I stumble out the words, unsure of what to say.

“Yeah, well, thank me later. We’re not done.”

“Huh?”

Briggs slides his arms around me and pulls me against his chest. Instinctively, I fold my arms around his neck, and my legs grip around his waist, and they wrap around him. His long legs move out of the kitchen and swiftly carry me past the living room, heading for the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“You said you need a shower… so do I.”

“Didn’t you already shower at the stadium?” I ask as if it’s even relevant.

Shut up, Autumn. You’re about to shower with Briggs Conley. This is your goddamn wet dream come to life.

“Yeah, but we’ll both need one after what I’m going to do to you.”

My center squeezes down hard again at his promise.

I look back at him and the devilish grin he’s sporting, but I don’t know what to say. Briggs is talking dirty to me, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he says with a cocky grin.

“Yes, you would.”

Briggs would never force anyone.

“Okay, you’re right, I would. Don’t make me beg,’ he says, his eyes searching mine.

“After what you just did to me in the kitchen, I think I’m the one who should be begging.”

“Hmm,” he says. “You on your knees… I could get into that.”

I giggle as he opens the door to the bedroom and then closes it, locking it behind us since my brother could come back at any moment. Then he walks over to the bedside table, still not putting me down and opens the bedside table, reaching in and pulling out a condom.

“You put condoms in here?” I ask in surprise, glancing down at the contents of the drawer that only contain a n unopened box of magnum condoms.

When did he do that?

“It’s best to be prepared… just in case.” His lip turns up on one side in a lopsided grin, and then he carries me to the shower.

How long as he thought we might… oh my God.

More warm liquid coats me, and I’m sure he can feel it the wetness against his shirt as he carries me into the bathroom.

He opens the shower door and walks us in.

“Our clothes!” I remind him, even though I only have my crop top on… mostly disheveled.

But he’s still dressed in a shirt and jeans. We must have left my boy shorts out in the kitchen.

He gives a sexy smirk and presses me against the shower tile wall, setting the condom in his hand on the tiled ledge by the shower head designed for shampoo and conditioner bottles.

I watch as he lays the gold-foiled package down. The anticipation of the moment when he’ll open the package has my belly flipping with excitement.

I’m so distracted staring at the condom wrapper that I don’t see his hand reach down for the faucet as he flips on the shower water.

“Ah!” I scream as the cold water hits us first. “Briggs!”

“That’s exactly how I want you to come next time. Scream my name just like that.”

He presses his mouth to mine to stop my rebuttal, and finally, the water turns warm.

I pull up on the hem of his soaked shirt, and he grips the back of it, pulling it over his head. I glance down at the hard edges of him, the hills and valleys of Briggs’s cut torso. He watches me as I scan every inch. When I look up into his eyes, he smiles down at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. It’s just a different way you look at me.”

“Different how?”

Is he referring to other women looking at him naked? I hate the idea of thinking of Briggs with anyone else, but that is the reality of it. It’s one of the reasons I have a job right now. But I won’t let that deter me. This is my chance with him, and it might be the only one he gives me. I push the thought down deep.

“I don’t know.” He thinks for a second. “You sure I’m not just a space to mark off on a game of sex bingo? B25, screw pro player.” He’s teasing, obvious by the glint in his eye.

I shake my head. “Who in the hell would I play sex bingo with?” I poke back.

“Somehow… that answer isn’t reassuring. Or maybe I’m just a guy you’re screwing because of his big bank account.” I still see the twinkle in his eye as he says it… he’s not serious.

And thank God for that otherwise I would have to set the record straight that I’m not a gold digger. I’d have to admit that I will still want this even if he was penniless.

“Oh, Mr. Conley…” I use my best bedroom voice, reaching between us for the button of his soaked pants. “I think you just figured me out.”

“Oh yeah?” I grins, his lips almost on mine again.

I nod. “Uh-huh.”

My fingers find the button to his pants.

“All I care about is your big…” I feel the button give way, “…big…” I pull down on his zipper, “… big bank-a-cock account.”

He chuckles and presses me tighter against the shower wall so that his hands are free to push his jeans down.

They’re wet and an already tight fit for his thick, powerful hockey player thighs used for moving through the ice.

He bends down, miraculously keeping me still in place while his hands yank down his jeans. He makes it look effortless, but I feel the force he uses to push them down, and I remember exactly whose arms I’m in. A badass hockey god with skills in so many different arenas.

He kicks off his jeans and toes them to the side corner of the shower, away from us. Then his fingers trail up my sides, creating goosebumps over every inch he touches. He hooks his finger into my sports bra, pulling it up over my head. Now I’m fully undressed, and Briggs only has on a pair of boxers.

“Any last words before we do this?”

“Make it worth the ass beating my brother will give you.”

Briggs’s mouth crashes over mine and kisses me so passionately I’m not sure if my mouth has ever been taken the way Briggs is taking it.

He pushes down his boxer briefs until I hear the loud thud of his wet boxers on the tiled shower floor, and then he pulls his large cock between us, the tip pressing against my belly button as the shaft slides between my cleft every time one of us moves. I break away from his kiss to look down. I’ve been waiting years to be this up close and personal with this man’s erection to not be impatient.

He looks down quickly at me, and then I can feel his eyes on me again. “What do you think?”

“He’s beautiful.”

Briggs chuckles at my response. “I don’t know if he’s beautiful—”

My eyes dart up to his. “I do.”

I watch as water drops drip down his dark blonde hair and then over his jaw. It’s not just his cock that’s beautiful; there’s something about this man.

He stares down at me, his eyes searching mine. It almost feels like he can see that I’m different. That my intentions with him are true, not like the other women he has been with. This feels like the moment. This feels like the first time he truly sees me… understands me.

“Put that inside me,” I beg softly.

I’m no longer the girl out in the kitchen, wondering if this is a dream. I know what I do to him, and I know what he does to me, and we both know the potential consequences for no longer resisting this pull.

And I don’t care.

He bends in and kisses me again. One hand gripping onto my left thigh, the other around the side of my neck, holding me into place for his mouth to devour me.

He releases my lips and reaches for the condom on the soap shelf, his eyes searing into mine as he rips it open with his teeth and then rolls it on, never breaking eye contact.

He presses me tighter against the shower wall to anchor me in place to free the use of his hands. I whimper softly every time the head of his cock slides along the crack of my bum on its own accord, bobbing slightly under me.

“You okay? Am I hurting you?” he asks of his body smashing me into the shower tiles.

Nothing has ever felt better.

“I’m good… yeah.” I nod in reassurance, my mind barely able to think of a coherent thought.

He presses his left palm just above my head as his other hand reaches around my thigh and grips his sheathed cock.

My arms tighten around his neck on the shower wall as he guides his engorged cock with his right hand and lines it up with my opening. Then he presses it against me.

I moan out when the tip of his cock pushes inside. Even with my legs still wrapped around his waist, he’s so much taller than me. He pushes more of his length further into me, and I whimper at his size.

He presses the side of his mouth against my temple, and now that he’s inside of me, his right hand comes back up from guiding himself into me and grips back around my left thigh, squeezing tight. “That’s it, Autumn. Take me,” he says, sinking deeper into me with every powerful thrust.

I’m so full I think I might burst at the seams.

“I can’t.” I shake my head, my voice shaky. I bury my face against his neck.

“Yes, you can. You were fucking made for me,” he says, his voice becoming labored, rocking into me again. “But I’ll slow down if you need me to. I don’t want to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

His proclamation causes my heart to squeeze, and my arms grip him even tighter.

I shake my head again. I don’t want him to stop… ever.

“That’s not an answer.” Keeping the same rhythm but not increasing any deeper penetration. “I need you to tell me if you want me to stop.”

“You’re not hurting me. Please don’t stop… don’t ever stop.”

We stare at each other for a moment as he continues to pump inside of me. An unspoken question feels like it passes between us. What part of this is fake, and what part of this is real?

I can feel our hearts beating rapidly against each other. Did I say too much? Did I give too much away? And then, before I can ask, he kisses me ferociously like he can’t get enough. It almost feels like an answer to that question.

His tongue seeking out mine, he thrusts in again, once, then twice, and fully seats inside me. I cry out at the fullness, but he consumes my sobs, swallowing them whole.

There’s tenderness and aggression in how he’s kissing me, in how he took me against the countertop in the kitchen earlier and how he’s taking me now against this shower wall.

I don’t want this to end. This feeling of being with him. This feeling of his cock buried deep inside me.

Is it stupid to feel so connected to him right now when I have no idea how he feels? Maybe, but I can’t stop myself from sending a prayer that we stay like this forever. Slipping and sliding over each other naked bodies as he owns me.

I’m out of time to overthink it all because my brain is turning to mush. With my first orgasm making my clit extremely sensitive, it’s not taking long for my body to begin to vibrate for a second time as the warning signs of my climax are building at veracity.

I want to hold out for longer. I want to keep going like this for as long as Briggs is willing to hold me against this shower wall, but I can’t stop how my body is reacting to him. It’s too many years of pining in secret for this man. There’s no manual off switch to turn down the chemical reaction I’m having to finally being taken by Briggs Conley.

“Briggs…” I whimper.

“Come… I want to feel you pulsate on my cock the way you did on my fingers.”

My eyelashes flutter closed as I concentrate, and then I feel Briggs’s warm mouth on my breast. He swirls his tongue over the hard nub of my nipple and then sucks down hard, and just as I get a grip on what he’s doing to my body, his teeth bite down on my nipple, and my body clenches down on his cock as I ride him as hard as I can from this position, egging him on to give me more… to give me faster. I want everything he has to give me, and he answers my wordless desperate plea.

His hand comes off the wall and snakes between us. My legs have to squeeze around him tighter to accommodate his large forearm between us, pushing me away from him slightly, but the work is worth it when his index finger presses against my clit.

That’s all it takes. My climax bursts from its confines, and I cry out Briggs’s name as my center clamps down on his cock.

“Jesus.” Briggs growls. “Fuck.”

His thrusts increase in pace and penetration, chasing his own orgasm after mine. I grip my arms tighter around his neck, trying to hold on as Briggs uses me for his own pleasure.

He presses into me, his hand bracing against the shower wall again after he releases my clit, his other hand gripping firmly around my right thigh and just before he comes, he lays his forehead down on my shoulder and groans out in pleasure, spilling his warmth inside of me.

I feel the pulsation of his tip lodged deep, and I wish he wouldn’t pull out. I want to stop time and enjoy the feeling of his cock twitching as if he is as completely undone by his orgasm as I am by the one he gave me, but we both have things to do today. I have no idea what time it is, but my guess is that I should be meeting with Tessa and Penelope soon, and my brother should be back at any time.

Briggs lets my legs slip down his body while he protectively holds on to me to make sure that I don’t fall too quickly. Once my feet hit the ground, he kisses my shoulder, and we both sigh a sense of relief. Maybe that we ripped the Band-Aid off on the sexual tension, or maybe that we both needed relief. Without asking the question, it’s hard to say.

A loud bang sounds from the entry of the apartment. Briggs and I both look at each other, both breathing quietly, trying to listen for more sound.

“Hello? Anyone home?” I hear the faint echo of my brother’s voice in the kitchen. Probably going straight for the cookies. That should give us some time.

“At least this time, he had the decency to wait until after we finished.”

I swat at Briggs’ shoulder. He laughs and takes a step back.

“How thoughtful of him,” I tease.

Briggs takes a full scan of my naked body, the first time he’s seen me fully naked and not smothered under his.

“If he hadn’t just walked in, I’d suggest we go again.”

“You do have a death wish.”

“I can handle your brother.”

“The point is that you shouldn’t have to. And if you and I hadn’t gotten pushed together by our jobs, what’s the likelihood that this would have happened?”

“Slim to none. I would have avoided touching you at all costs.”

“Right—”

My stomach drops at his statement. I knew it. I knew Briggs would never have gone for me if it wasn’t because of this arrangement and the fact he couldn’t touch anyone else without looking like he was cheating on his—fake—girlfriend.

“But now that I know how you taste”—he takes a step forward toward me, his eyes searing into mine, a look of a hungry man— “it would have been a damn shame to have missed out.”

I hate the flutters that irrupt to the look in his eyes, especially since he seems to be telling me that he wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t because we’re in close proximity and practically pushed together.

I react in defense to make myself seems less affected by his admission “You’re Shakespeare incarnate with that speech,” I say, rolling my eyes playfully and walking around him and out of the large walk-in shower, grabbing a towel off the shelf on the wall to the left. He’s only talking about sex… that’s all.

I walk out of the bedroom in search of clothes, and it hits me… the underwear Briggs took off me. Oh damn! But I can’t storm out there now in a towel. I have to get dressed and, quickly.

I glance over at the clock sitting on the nightstand on the side I slept on last night. Crap! On top of everything, I’m about to be late for my coffee meeting with the Penelope and Tessa about how our fake relationship is working towards improving public opinion.

I quickly make it over to the walk-in closet of the master and grab a thong, a pair of jeans, a long sleeve black thermal and a blue down Columbia vest.

A pair of socks, my Hunter rain boots, and a Patagonia hat to cover up my dripping wet hair that I’ll have to tie into a bun on the elevator trip down completes my wet rat, just-got-railed-by-a-hockey-god look, and I’m all set.

I threw on my outfit choices quickly. Briggs finally walks into the closet, one towel hung low on his hips, one towel he’s using to shake out his wet hair and my anti-aging night gel slathered under his eyes. Minus the eye cream, Briggs is a walking wet dream.

“Hoping to stay youthful?”

“I like the cooling feelings, and yes, it might have worked yesterday. No harm in a little self-care.”

I smirk and shake my head as I try to make a quick exit. Briggs throws out an arm and wraps it around my waist to stop me, pulling me back against his hard chest.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his mouth pressing against the back of my ear.

“I told you, I have a meeting with Tessa and Penelope this afternoon. Plus, I have to find my underwear we left out there.”

Briggs’s releases me quickly, his eyes flare wider for a second, his tongue darting out to lick his lips quickly, the realization that my brother might find them first has just dawned on him.

“Where did you leave them?” I ask.

“On the island.” he says tight lipped.

“You left my dirty underwear on the island… where we prepare food?” I ask, my eyes flashing at him.

“Hey. First of all, there is nothing dirty about you, except for the way you like to be fucked.’ He smirks.

My cheeks must turn bright red because Briggs chuckles a little.

“Still… my brother is out there.’

He looks past me towards the bedroom door. “True. I’ll get dressed quickly and meet you out there.”

“Okay,” I say, leaving him in the closet and taking steps toward the bedroom door, smoothing my hair back and pulling my drenched hair behind me, twisting it up and then twirling it into a bun low against my neck.

I set off to find my boy shorts… then find my brother…

…in that order.