Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (21 page)

“Always,” she sasses, moving forward into the ballroom with a twitch of her hips.

We don’t have to move far before acknowledgment of our addition is heard in a grasshopper string of gasps across the magnificent, shining chandelier hanging from the middle of the room.

C
hapter 11-Ayron

E
ntering
the ballroom with Devlin is like walking into a scene from the long-ago television show “Dynasty.” I can feel the vibration of wealth all around me just from the way that the straight-backed, expensively dressed people stand. Their perfectly quaffed hair and professionally powdered faces beam affluence.

An unexpected thrill sidles me. Their eyes say it all—Devlin is a desired man in these parts. Penetrating eyes whisk our way from the pampered princesses, and sharp fiery gazes crucify me with smiling lips.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Devlin asks as he hooks me close.

I place a hand on his chest, more for show than anything—a statement that we are close. I move my lips to his ear to speak.

“I’m all good. I’m here to support you,” I let him know, and match the smile that crosses his full lips.

He nods to me with a confidence that few men know and even fewer exude. Even with an established absence, he is recognized and respected. This morning he had been just a man, a broken man that I had made a promise to help. Tonight he is a returned prince.

“If you feel uncomfortable, let me know and we can leave.” He whispers this so close to my neck that his lips nearly kiss it.

Our secluded seconds at the entrance quickly succumb to the intrusion of a perturbed looking woman. She had walked away from a conversation on the other side of the room to speak with us.

I wonder if Devlin can see the glint of jealousy in her eyes or the slight, annoyed tilt of her head, and I’m pretty sure she’ll talk in a sweet tone.

Her eyes move across me as though she is preparing for battle, but she turns her body to Devlin and leans in for a respectable one-armed hug.

“It’s good to see you here,” she speaks in cheery tones, but I hear the real objective of her words—where have you been? I am fluent in dignified folk’s double talk. My granny warned me to keep an ear as sharp as their tongue. “Words become as worthless as arrows shot at the sun as long as you know your worth,” was one of her regular sayings to me.

“Hello, Giselle,” he says flatly. “I’m glad to be seen. Let me introduce you to my date, Ayron.”

She acknowledges me briefly with a nod and returns her attention to Devlin.

“Well, I hadn’t heard from you in a while and I was beginning to—”

“Why would you expect to hear from me?” he interrupts, irritation clipping his voice.

I place a calming hand on his chest, and smile between the two of them. Obviously, there is a history.

Devlin eyes me, suddenly relaxing his face.

“Dev,” Giselle implores. “We should talk. In private.” Her pursed painted lips look ready to release scathing things. I have dealt with women like her before—dainty and dignified women who sing praises in someone’s presence and later serrate that same person as though they had never known a nice thing about them.

Before Devlin can respond, a refined man in a tuxedo joins the conversation.

“There you are, darling,” the suited intruder speaks before releasing a kiss onto Giselle’s forehead. “I wondered where you had slipped off to.”

The original exasperation returns to Devlin’s face.

“William,” he acknowledges. “It’s nice to see you two, but if you’ll excuse me.”

I smile and follow in the direction that Devlin leads me.

“You should come to the wedding,” William adds.

This stops Devlin’s forward movement and he turns to face the two.

“I certainly will,” he adds with a counterfeit smile.

After the first intense conversation, the rest are pleasant. Hugs and hellos from club members follow with kind words about Gladys and her efforts to fight her own mental illness issues and help others as well.

Devlin hadn’t shared with me that his mother suffered from bouts of depression, but his inclusion of me in every conversation confirms that he didn’t mind my knowing. The people that Devlin congregates with aren’t half as bad as I thought that they would be. Maybe Lance’s family was so rude because they were well-off and not wealthy, or maybe Devlin just makes sure to associate with good people.

I smile and nod as he ushers me through the event. Hand against my back or arm around my waist, his attention to my wellbeing is comforting. A quiet longing for him churns inside for his hand to slip a little a lower, for this night to get a little naughtier, even though I know that it shouldn’t.

I sigh to release some of the pressure of my building desire for him. This would be entirely less difficult if his body wasn’t so warm next to mine, his hands so large and steady, or if his cologne didn’t smell so good.

“Thank you for this,” he whispers against my ear, allowing his tongue to slide across my earlobe. His arm continues to rest along my waist as it has the majority of the night. A strike of desire flashes through me. I cannot handle naughty, not with Devlin.

I catch his eyes with mine, and the wink he gives nearly makes me fall to my knees.

My eyes close, weighed down by the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with the desire in his voice.

“Anytime,” I breathe before clearing my throat.

Being so close to him is becoming too much. His soft words and iron hard body, his alluring eyes, his careful concern, all make this feel real.

An egg-shaped man with an oblong head partially covered by a patchy, bushy afro moves stodgily over to Devlin, gripping a glass of brown liquid. His gait indicates that the glass in his hand is most likely not his first one.

“I didn’t imagine that I’d see you here,” the less subtle man exhorts in a deep bass of a voice. “It’s been years since you attended. Trevor has been here on the company’s behalf for the last two years.”

“I thought it was time to make a return.” Devlin grimaces before he introduces us. “Mr. Randall is a M.I.S. executive board member. Mr. Randall, this is my date, Ayron.”

The round man’s square, overgrown eyebrows nearly lift from his face as he takes a leisurely glance at my form.

“I suppose if a person could resurrect an appearance,” he leans to view my backside, “I assume that she could.”

Devlin’s look of agitation grows as he leaves my side to guide Mr. Randall a safe distance away.

“Let’s walk and talk, Mr. Randall,” he says before turning to me. “I’ll be right back.”

Maybe some space will calm my body temperature down. This is just a job like any other. Almost like any other. Devlin is just a man. A sexy man, with big muscular arms and a fit figure, who makes my private places alert and soaking in his presence.

Groaning, I stroll out of the room onto the verandah overlooking manicured acres of lush grass. The night air and the cool, quiet space are refreshing.

I had thought giving Devlin the thirty-day trial excuse would keep him at bay, but the way his eyes burn against me, it may have turned him on more than settled him. Not to mention the way my body reacts to him.

“I bet he took you to Baraide’s,” Giselle says as she flounces next to me.

The wicked witch has returned. Her eyes are tight, and she is too preoccupied with her flute glass to look at me. I figured that she would pop up somewhere. She had been watching Devlin and me all night.

I don’t answer. I just feign a smile.

“It’s kind of cute that he found himself a project. I could tell that he was a little lonely after our breakup,” she smugly offers.

“Words are like arrows shot at the sun” circles through my mind. If the venue had been different or my attitude on the fritz, the bitch would be bald right now.

I look over at the woman with a pleased look, imagining ways to rip the expensive-looking weave from her head.

“His company has been pleasurable,” I respond.

The quick wince on her otherwise mute face lets me know that the comment affected her. If Devlin makes love with the same passion that he kisses, then I know she is missing that pleasure. A pleasure that I shouldn’t even be considering.

“You look decent enough, so I thought I would do the polite thing and warn you. First off, nothing ever has or ever will come before that stupid company of his. As though he doesn’t already have enough money. Even if he does decide to keep you around as his little toy, you don’t belong in this world, and once he is done feeling charitable, he’ll be done with you,” she sneers.

I lift a finger, with the intent of showing the demeaning debutant just how much I “don’t belong,” but the warmth of a familiar hand is at my back before I do.

Devlin whirls me around, pulls me close to him, and in an instant places his mouth softly against mine. I catch a look of desire flash in his eye and he deepens the kiss, parting my lips and thrusting his tongue between them. He searches my mouth as though he was a poor man and my teeth were made of gold.

My eyes close and I feel light enough to float away, but the strength of his tongue keeps me tethered.

“Damn, girl,” he says, releasing my mouth and biting his lip. “I have never been kissed like that before.”

Everything on my body associated with sex clenches, pebbles, or leaks in that moment.

Giselle looks as though she wants to throw acid, and she silently slinks her way back into the party.

“Sorry that the ice queen got to you,” he apologizes. “She is definitely my ex for a reason.”

I should ask probing questions, guide him to understand the importance of past relationships in building a stronger future, but I have nothing. He kissed away all of the mental capacity that I have to analyze behavior and assess through conversation.

I simply nod at him.

“You know that none of what she said is true, right?” He slides one of his large hands across his smooth, hunky face. “I know where you come from, and I’m glad that you aren’t like these people.”

I manage to stick on a worried smile as anxiety twists through my insides. How long will I be able to push away this irresistibly sweet and sexy man? I have to hide the bag of chocolate for the candy dish at the office, just to keep myself from eating it all. He is ten times as alluring as a candy bar.

“I know,” I answer. “Excuse me for just a little.”

Without waiting for a reply or giving an explanation, I head away from those mesmerizing eyes.

* * *

I
step
into the private restroom, take a deep breath, and call my friend.

“I can’t do it,” I rush before Monique has the chance to pop out a greeting. “I can’t spend the evening with him. I just can’t.”

The tiled bathroom floor receives the brunt of my agitation, as pacing seems to calm my nerves a bit, but not enough.

“Calm down,” she orders. “What did he do? I got bail money under the mattress, if I have to come beat his ass.”

“He’s been a perfect gentleman,” I nearly yell in disbelief. “His father had me pumped up to meet this pompous, anger-filled miscreant, and Devlin is nothing of the sort. He bought me clothes, paid for hair and makeup and a limo just to have me stand by his side while he showered me with compliments all night!”

“The dog,” Monique exhales sarcastically. “I’m going to tell you like Ms. Agnes would—carry yourself right back in there and enjoy that man.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t do that. He’s been too sweet for me to keep leading him on.”

“So he’s getting to you?” Monique says. “It’s alright to care about him as a person. You’re helping him become better.”

I shake my head.

I have crossed so many lines already.

“I have to tell him what I do and why I am here. I need to confess,” I say.

I look at myself in the mirror.

“And what about Ms. Agnes? What about getting the office space that you need?” she says. “You’ve more than outgrown that broom closet at the community center. Focus on the goal.”

A knock at the door startles me.

“You all right in there?” Devlin’s smooth voice, and the image of his tall, handsome body leaning against the door, coming to check on me, cause the flutters return as though they’d never been absent.

“Why does he keep being so nice?” I whisper to Monique.

Devlin knocks again.

“Ayron,” he calls.

“He’s outside of the door,” I snap into the phone while searching through the small space for a window, porthole, trap door or something. “I can’t face him again, Mo.”

“Do I need to call an ambulance?” he asks.

“I’m all right, Devlin,” I squeak.

“You can do this, Ayron,” Monique reassures. “The ends will justify the means.”

Ending the call with Monique, I open the door to Devlin.

“Is everything all right?” He examines me, his gorgeous brows furrowed. He places a steady hand on my cheek. “I thought you may have done a disappearing act on me, until coat check said they saw you slip in here.”

“I’m fine,” I stutter, lost in the feeling of his caress.