Ballsy Read online

  To my utter delight, Kieran seems to blush at that. He takes a long gulp from his drink, sets it down, and looks at me without saying anything. The silence, nice and comfortable, stretches between us. I want so badly to weave my fingers through his but I know that’ll draw way too much attention, so I resist the urge.

  “Sucks about your brother.”

  It’s like ice water putting out a wildfire.

  I settle back and breathe out. “Yeah. Also sucks for us. We’ve got a lifetime of this stuff to look forward to assuming they take their vows seriously.”

  “You really don’t like her.” The way Kieran says it, it isn’t a question. More of an observation.

  I don’t reply, simply shrug. “She’s made it easy not to.”

  “No argument from me.” Kieran takes another long draft. “Every time something like this happens, I’m at a loss. And it’s been happening more and more often. I really don’t know what to say or do that would help Baylor.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” I roll my eyes. “It sucks. And the worst thing is, the more she denies him and treats him badly and just pisses all over his self-esteem, the more he becomes this person I don’t recognize. Needy. Insecure. Whiny. It’s like a vicious cycle where she could even make a case she’s exhausted and—” I stop short when I see the way Kieran is looking at me. “Shit. Sorry. I’m an awful sister, aren’t I?”

  “No, I agree with you.” Another gulp. “I think she doesn’t bring out the best in your brother and I also think he’s an adult. He needs to take responsibility for himself.”

  “And he needs to be willing to accept help if there’s anything to be done,” I complete. “Because I truly don’t know what to do. There’s nothing either of us can say or do that really makes any difference. It’ll only get better when she calls him or when they have it out in person or…” I shake my head, suddenly exhausted and defeated. “I don’t even know. Whatever.”

  “Not your circus,” Kieran says, “and not your monkeys.”

  I brighten at that. “That’s true.”

  Silence falls upon us again. Like a magnet drawn to him, I slide closer. Kieran gets this devilish smirk on his face—pure, trademarked, undiluted bad boy mischief—and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Hello.”

  The way he says it takes me back to Saturday night, to the moments that preceded our kiss. God, I’d do anything to go back to that. Or to have a do-over.

  Here.

  Now.

  Whenever, wherever.

  But I don’t want to be too easy. I’m not as prone to give into him at the drop of a coin today. I want to tease him some more. To flirt some more.

  All in good sport.

  “Hey, you,” I reply. “Come here often?”

  He chuckles. “Ah, you know, every now and then. Not too often. Usually there’s no good company.”

  I fake pout. “Aw.”

  “And you?” he asks.

  It surprises me how easily I slip into character—some mysterious woman at a bar. She doesn’t know anyone and no one knows her. She can be anybody and say anything. There are no consequences, no rules, no conditions. I cherish that sort of freedom, even if it’s fleeting. “I never come. Today is a one-off. I felt the urge to do something crazy.”

  “Well, see, that’s the answer,” he says, snapping his fingers. “If I’d ever seen you before, I’d be a lifer here.”

  “Or you’d never come at all,” I counter with a slow, playful smile. “Because you’d have found all the company you need.”

  His expression turns serious. “That’s very true.”

  There’s weight behind those words. My insides turn into molten lava, swirling and burning. We gravitate towards each other, inching closer and closer. His fingers graze mine under the table.

  It’s everything I can do to keep from planting a huge, obnoxious kiss on him. All of the pretense falls away.

  “Yesterday was amazing,” I breathe. I blink slowly, my eyes suddenly becoming heavy-lidded. My mouth parts slightly. I bite my lower lip just the way I know he likes. “Really amazing.”

  Kieran eyes me, giving me a once-over and lingering his gaze on my lips before making eye contact with me again. “Yes, it was.”

  “Best…” I brush my fingers against his again. “Kiss… Ever.”

  “Same.”

  My heart’s pounding. Adrenaline courses through my system. I’m acutely aware we aren’t alone. There’s probably never been a time I was more frustrated than I am now. Curiously, though, denying myself the immediate satisfaction of pouncing on him or having him pounce on me draws out the sinfully delicious mood.

  It fuels a positive feedback loop.

  I’m crazy into him.

  “We aren’t alone,” Kieran whispers.

  “Isn’t it maddening?” I bat my eyelashes at him. It’s not on purpose. I’m not trying to do some Valley girl thing. I’m going on pure instinct. “Plus, there’s Baylor…”

  “He’d hit the roof,” Kieran agrees.

  “Make his mood now look positively rosy compared to how he’d get if he saw us,” I finish.

  “So we probably shouldn’t risk it…” Kieran doubles down on his smirk. “Too dangerous.”

  “You’re right.” I shake my head but return his smirk in kind. “Way, way too dangerous.”

  “And complicated.”

  “Complicated! Can’t overlook that now, can we?”

  “Or…” Kieran regards me with an air of conspiracy. “We could go somewhere.”

  My pussy clenches as he says it.

  Sweeter words have never been spoken.

  I take a look around to make sure no one’s watching us. When I’m satisfied we’re not under the scrutiny of any prying eyes, I turn back to him and beam. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “Your room?” Kieran suggests.

  I’m going to hell for this, I think.

  But something tells me I’m going to need to call into heaven first.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  KIERAN

  We barely last until the elevator before our hands intertwine. Just like the night of the party where we shared our first kiss, we seem to be attuned to one another. There’s no hesitation or second guessing. When her hand is in mine, it’s there to stay.

  Her presence alone is enough to drive me mad. I notice that all of the other floors are lit up when I go to press the button for her floor. It’s as though the person who was here just before we arrived decided to pull a prank on whoever the next occupants of the elevator turned out to be.

  As luck would have it, that’s us.

  Joey turns to look at me. She winks. She steps in front of me and leans back, her ass pressing against my cock and her body covering every inch of mine.

  Jesus Christ.

  I grab her by the hips and grind her ass against my groin. She moans softly.

  I glance at the screen to see what floor we’re on.

  Two more to go.

  In the blink of an eye, the doors open and we file out of the elevator. The hall is deserted, thank the good Lord. Neither of us are in any particular hurry to get inside. Maybe we should be.

  I honestly don’t care about anything or anyone except Joey. Especially not right now.

  She licks her lips, biting down on her lower one in that sexy little way of hers that drove me wild from the first moment I saw her.

  “You do that on purpose, don’t you?” I ask. I’ve always wanted to know.

  “Maybe,” she replies cryptically. “Or maybe it’s not all about you.”

  “Ouch.” I make a great show of placing my hands over my heart as if it’s been wounded. “Harsh.”

  She smirks. “Yes, it’s on purpose. Well, in a way. It only became such a habit of mine because I kept doing it on purpose. But if I’m around you and I do it, I instantly become aware of your reaction, which you never showed me, actually.”

  I arch an eyeb
row at her. “You haven’t been paying attention. I can barely concentrate on anything else when you bite your lip like that.”

  “Hm.” She muses for a spell. “Tell me more.”

  We’re standing just outside her room—the number 1103 is plastered over the door in bright neon colors, tackier than anything I’ve ever seen, but honestly, who gives a shit?—and neither one makes a move to use the key to get in.

  What are we waiting for?

  The moment swells around us. Joey looks at me with those big, chocolate eyes of hers, beckoning me. I take a fistful of her hair, twist it around my hand, and lasso her closer to me. I let the anticipation build before I can’t resist her a single second longer. My mouth finds hers.

  And then we’re kissing.

  My hands roam her body, outlining her every curve, squeezing every inch of hers. She moans softly against my lips, straightens her back so her breasts are firmly pressed against my chest.

  “Where’s your key?” I ask in a hushed voice.

  “In my back pocket—”

  I’m way ahead of her, fishing the little card out of her pocket. I swipe it in front of the scanner. The door clicks. I turn the knob and push her inside.

  There’s no time or patience left in this earth that can keep me away from her.

  Joey halts the buildup. She shoots a pointed look toward the big, fluffy bed ten feet from the door. She shakes her shoulders playfully and lunges herself toward it, practically doing a cannonball onto its soft cushion top.

  She erupts in laughter and I join her because the silliness in a moment when I would gladly flail myself if it would get me a few precious minutes with her, is just the quintessential Joey thing to do.

  “Where were we?” she prompts, gesturing with her finger in a come-hither motion. “I want to pick up where we left off.”

  She’s light and airy, like there’s nothing in the world weighing on her conscience. And that’s when a meteor of guilt strikes. Her brother is just downstairs. He’s having a bad day. He’s having a bad week and a bad month, actually. We were just with him and now…

  All of the rationalizations I concocted after we kissed last week unravel. It’s shameful, really, how flimsy my internal defenses are when it comes to thwarting the undue consideration that Baylor’s opinion begets.

  Joey’s happy-go-lucky expression crumbles. “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head, mostly for my own benefit. No. I won’t let anyone but the two of us occupy my thoughts… or this room.

  “Nothing,” I tell her, and then dive onto the bed.

  We wrestle, each angling for control on top. I let Joey win—or better, she wins through sheer tenacity—and settles on top of me, one leg on each side. Straddling me.

  If only she still had that dress on…

  Joey’s a tomboy, so it’s not often she appears in dresses or skirts. Now would be the best possible moment for that particular wardrobe option, though.

  Not that I’m complaining. She grinds against me, rubbing her sex against my groin and applying just the right amount of pressure on her own clit to get things really going for her. Soft moans of pleasure escape her lips.

  I’m hard as a rock and desperate to get our clothes off, but in this moment I can only marvel at her. Her head tilts back and her throat and neck create a beautiful arch, leading to her lips, nose, eyes—shut, tightly, as she continues to please herself.

  I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her down. There’s no resistance from her. We keep kissing, deeper and more passionately than ever. I feel her pulse, strong and steady in her neck.

  I wrangle with her to get on top.

  Fuck I need her.

  In the second our lips part so we can adjust to our new position, though, doubt creeps in again. Joey senses something’s wrong. Her eyes, barely open past little slits, snap open. She bites her lip again, but I can tell it isn’t meant to be sexy this time.

  It’s concern.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I say.

  “Bullshit.” She swats at my chest. “Talk to me, please.”

  “I just…” I trail off. With a heavy sigh, I roll off of her and onto my back, lying next to her.

  “Do you want to stop?” Joey asks. She turns to her side and props her head up with her hand. Even though I know she’s putting some effort into masking the disappointment that seeps into her voice, I hear it all the same. “We can stop.”

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” I tell her.

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “It feels like we’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like someone’s bound to notice our absence and come looking for us right when it’s the worst possible timing and I don’t want to risk being interrupted.” The words pour out of me. “I want to take my time with you.”

  She shivers at that. Her sunny disposition doesn’t make a comeback, though. “I get what you mean.”

  “But just to be clear—”

  Her phone blares. I shoot her a curious look. She shrugs and digs for it in her purse. The moment she has it in her hands and sees who’s calling, her features transform into a look of pure, thinly-veiled annoyance. “It’s Baylor.”

  Case in point. We couldn’t have timed things better with what I’d just said if we tried.

  Joey raises her index finger to her lips, signaling for me to keep quiet. I nod. She presses the green button on the screen to answer the call.

  “Hello?” she says. She thinks better of it and presses the button for the speaker phone. “Baylor? Hi.”

  “Where are you?” There’s a lot of static and background noise, so he comes across as mangled and heavily distorted.

  Joey looks at me again, then down at the ground.

  What’s she waiting for?

  I wave at her, try to mime a response, but she simply hand waves at me, motioning for me to be quiet.

  “I’m in my room,” she says. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Is Kieran with you? I’ve tried his room but he’s not there.”

  Joey sighs audibly. Even though I’m in on her performance, it does a good job of nearly convincing me. “No, Baylor, he’s not.”

  “Do you know—”

  “Look, big bro, I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to talk right now, okay?” she says, cutting him off. “I’m not in the mood and I’m also not Kieran’s keeper. You should try calling him.”

  Joey doesn’t leave any room for Baylor to reply. She ends the call before he even has time to process her response.

  Neither of us say anything after the abrupt hang-up. We exchange a long look. It’s like both of us are trying to summon the courage to say what needs to be said.

  Which is that whatever was building between us, whatever was happening, is now truly DOA. At least for now. Even if Baylor wasn’t on the prowl, I know this is the right thing to do. I meant what I told her: I don’t want it to be rushed. Not with her. Not when I’ve waited this long.

  But walking away when we’re right here, only a few steps away from having it all…

  Fuck.

  I envy men who aren’t plagued by a conscience.

  “I’d like to stay,” I tell her, “but I think we both know I should leave.”

  She nods. Doesn’t say a word.

  And so I do, torn between wanting to hear her say something, anything, and wanting to inflict bodily damage on myself for letting an opportunity like this pass up.

  Damn it.

  Instead of taking the elevator down to my own room, I use the service stairs. It’s one of the few good choices I’ve made lately. That extra little bit of exercise gets my blood pumping and calms me down, so to speak, which makes it easier to think. It’s my brain that needs blood, definitely not my dick.

  I arrive at my floor and cross the corner. That’s when I spot him.

  Baylor.

  Leaning against the door to my room, looking like he’s about to doze off.

 
; Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  My shoe scrapes against the floor, squeaking loudly. Baylor’s eyes open immediately. Whatever disorientation he experiences only lasts a fraction of a second before he’s staring right at me.

  “There you are.” He yawns. “I tried your cell phone, and your doorbell, and then your cell phone again. Rinse. Repeat. Yadda-yadda.”

  “Sorry,” I mutter. “I must have switched it off.”

  “It didn’t go to voice mail.”

  “Dude, lay off me,” I say, a little more abrasive than I intend. “Sorry. Headache.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Walking,” I lie. “What’s up? Want to come in?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to run something by you…” He starts prattling on about expectations versus reality and how sometimes we all must change our plans, lest we have to weather our unmet whatevers.

  Something like that. I admit he lost me somewhere between the thirtieth and fiftieth time he said the word ‘expectations.’

  “Okay…” I say. “I’m a bit lost.”

  “I’m saying maybe I should rethink this whole Rachel and me getting married in a big to-do. You know?”

  Oh, praise the Lord. Halle-fucking-llujah. Is it actually possible he’s thinking about calling it off?

  “Dude, that’s so—”

  “Why wait and spend so much money and energy and time planning for a huge party that’s more for the benefit of everyone else than for us?” Baylor continues.

  “I completely agree with you.” I pat him on the back. “Wow. I’m proud of you for coming to this conclusion.”

  “Yeah?” He turns to look at me, seemingly searching for affirmation. “You’ve thought the same?”

  “Yeah, absolutely.” I yawn, my exhaustion catching up to me. “I just think you deserve—”

  “Something more me, right? And a big thing isn’t me. I don’t think it’s very Rachel either.” Baylor shakes his head. “I’m thinking about talking to Rachel. Seeing if she agrees to elope next weekend. We’ll be in Vegas for the game, right? The timing couldn’t be better. Plus, with it being a game and all, she’ll have the perfect cover to travel with us. You know how her father is.”