With a resigned sigh, I admit the truth. “I was afraid I was going to be fired, that you and Graham would take her word over mine and I’d lose my job. I
need
this job, Gavin. I know I haven’t necessarily acted like it, but it’s true.”
He studies me closely. “Penelope…” My name rolling off his tongue sounds so good. “You have this job for as long as you want it. You’ve got my word on that.”
I let out an awkward chuckle. “Well, it’s not really your call, is it?”
He leans in even closer. “You have my word.” His tone leaves no room for argument, so I nod once again. “Now, I’ll let you get back to work, but there’s one last thing we need to address.”
My eyebrows tip down. “What’s that?”
His lips whisper against my ear as he brushes his chest against mine and says, “You and your
bartender
will stop playing games immediately, I know what you’re doing and I Don’t.
Fucking
. Like it,” he finishes on a growl so intense I actually jump.
“W-what are you talking about?” I try playing clueless.
He leans his head back so I can see his calculating gaze once again. “Don’t play me, Miss Prescott.”
Great, I’m back to Miss freaking Prescott again
. “You think I don’t know the two of you are putting on a show for the cameras?” His thumb traces over the skin of my cheek as a smirk tugs at his lips. “Or is it solely for my benefit?”
“I don’t know—”
He cuts me off with a
tsk
. “Don’t bother lying. Have you so easily forgotten how well I read people? Either young Nick in there is gay, uninterested, or his cock is broken. And seeing as he was on our security cameras fucking one of the casino dealers in the employee lounge a few weeks ago, I’m thinking options one and three are out.”
Okay, I’m officially lost. “Huh?”
“He’s had his hands on you all fucking night long and he hasn’t gotten hard once. For fuck’s sake, Penelope, I get hard just
looking
at you! Most of the goddamned men in that room do, too,” he sneered.
I don’t know whether to be flattered or afraid at just how well Gavin reads people and situations. In the end, I decide to shove away all memories of the softer, sweeter Gavin I caught a brief glimpse of, and get back to what we do best… fight. It’s the only way I can protect myself against Gavin Saint. And I need all the protection I can get.
“You’re telling me you just spent the entire night watching Nick’s penis on CCTV?” I cock a brow high on my forehead. “And you’re sure you’re not gay?”
My plan backfires the instant I feel his lips on mine in a hard, hungry kiss that weakens my knees. Gavin swallows my moan as his tongue duels with mine in an erotic battle. All too soon, he pulls away, grabbing my right hand and sliding it over the fly of his trousers, instinctively, my fingers wrap around his thick, hard length as best they can with the barrier of his clothing in the way. “Still think I’m gay, Miss Prescott?” he asks as he guides my hand up and down, thrusting his hips into my hold.
Stepping away from my grip, he eases me off the wall and turns me towards the high roller suite doors, his hands on my waist as he steps in close one last time, his chest to my back. “I’ll break you down sooner or later,” he whispers in my ear, “and I can’t fucking wait. Now get back to work.”
**GAVIN**
“So tell me, what’s this I hear about you parading around the high roller suite like some knight in shining armor?” Scott asks while he sips his ‘froo froo’ drink, legs extended on the lounge chair next to me, and one hand behind his head.
He’s wearing his pink swim trunks with navy blue seahorses and his black Ray-Bans. The man is positively ripped. I like to believe that the women around the pool are staring at me, given my sculpted body, but I know the kind of attention Scott brings to the table. Too bad for all the scantily clad women eye fucking him, he’s off the market.
No, he doesn’t have a girlfriend or a wife, he just doesn’t do casual relationships. He’s either single or all in, there is no in between for him. How the man can go months without sex is a marvel to me. Fuck, it’s been a few weeks for me and I’m barely surviving. The only thing keeping me going is the sweet image of Penelope in my head and a steady, well lubricated hand in the shower.
“Graham should really start his own gossip magazine,” I answer. “That fuck stick can’t keep anything to himself.”
“He called me immediately after, pretty sure he was talking to me in the hallway. He gave me a play by play of you talking to that waitress outside of the suite.”
“Of course he fucking did.” I shake my head. Graham needs to go to counseling. His need to be well-informed of my life is borderline psychotic.
“So…” Scott trails off, taking a sip from his drink, avoiding the umbrella sticking straight out of it. “Get your first kiss did ya?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, hilarity in his eyes.
Sometimes I feel like my life has circled back to middle school, where everyone is in each other’s business, the buzz always being about who kissed who, and who broke up with whom. You would think at almost thirty, I would be able to escape that juvenile world, kiss a woman in the hallway and not have to dissect it the next day with my friends.
But it’s not that easy because my friends are Graham and Scott. Graham being the informer and Scott being the soother. They bring middle school back in full force with their antics, providing me with constant headaches due to how often I have to defend myself and my life choices. Thankfully, I’m talking to Scott who would rather talk it out than instigate me. Graham, the idiot, just likes to sit to the side like a kid with a stick, poking me every chance he can get.
Taking a sip of my beer – froo froo drinks are not part of my repertoire – I stretch out on my lounge chair and close my eyes beneath my sunglasses, letting the sun beat down against my bare chest. “You know damn well that wasn’t my first kiss.”
Scott chuckles. “I mean with the waitress.”
“She has a name,” I reply, not liking Penelope being referred to as the waitress.
“Oh that’s right… what is it?” Scott pauses. “Miss Peacoat?”
“Prescott,” I grit out, irritation taking over. “Her first name is Penelope.”
“It’s kind of adorable,” Scott responds, his tone completely devoid of sarcasm. He genuinely likes her name. “Penelope Prescott, has a nice ring to it.”
Penelope is anything but adorable. That’s how you would describe a grandma sitting on a park bench licking at a Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream cone, not Penelope.
She’s intriguing, mysterious in a way, guarded, beautiful, and sexy all tied up into a pocket full of sass that keeps you on your toes.
Adorable? Fuck no. Temptress is more like it.
“Sooo…” Scott presses. “Tell me about her.”
“We don’t have to do this. We can just lay here in silence and soak in the sun. Talking about our feelings isn’t necessary.”
Scott sits up on his lounger and eyes me over his tilted sunglasses. “Gavin, Graham isn’t here to press your buttons. Talk to me.”
Seriously, why does the man have to be so into talking? It’s good to have a friend who is invested in the well-being of your life, but being the kind of guy I am, I don’t talk about my feelings very often, especially in public places. I’ll leave that for the day I grow a vagina, making me and Scott twinsies.
“Nothing to say,” I shrug.
“Well, do you like her?”
Exasperated from his persistence, I answer, “Of course I like her. I wouldn’t be kissing her in hallways if I thought she was a troll, now would I?”
“I suppose not,” Scott laughs. “Is this just a mindless fuck for you, or are you looking for something long term?”
Perplexing question. I had no fucking clue at this point. At first, it started as a mindless fuck that I needed to get out of my system but the more vulnerability I saw in her, the more I wanted to protect her. No, the more I
needed
to protect her. She cut me to my core the other day when I saw the tears fall from her beautiful eyes. The inner rage inside of me boiled and I wanted nothing more than to rip apart the slut who made her feel so badly, then I wanted to tear Henry’s dick off and smack him in the face with it just because he was the one who brought trouble in the first place.
I’ve never felt like protecting someone before, ever, but there’s just something about Penelope that awakens my inner caveman. The need to beat my chest and piss all around her, marking my territory is almost too strong to control. Would I ever tell her that? Fuck no. That would be showing my cards. Would I admit it to Scott, the eager little beaver practically salivating at the thought of me actually falling for a woman? That would be a fuck no as well.
I just shrug my shoulders in answer to his question, not completely certain what I want.
“Oh come on man. Just give me something.”
“Why?” I ask, wondering why the hell Scott’s suddenly so determined to talk about this shit. It isn’t like we spent much of our friendship braiding each other’s hair and talking about our feelings. We’re men, for Christ’s sake! We don’t do that shit.
He turns to me and places his drink on the table that rests between us. “Aren’t you worried about dying alone? Going through this world never experiencing love?”
The fuck is this dude’s deal
? “Nope,” I answer simply, not turning to face him. Love is off the table, that’s for damn sure. Love ruins people, just talk to my dad. Oh wait, you can’t, he’s six feet under because of that asinine emotion.
“You aren’t curious at all to see what it feels like to put another soul ahead of yours? To care so deeply for another human being that you would do anything for them, even if it means running to
In and Out
right before it closes to get a batch of animal style French fries?”
I scoff. “First of all, don’t talk about souls and shit, you sound like a twat. Secondly, do I look like a goddamned butler?”
“Dude…” he gives me a “get real” look. “Don’t act like Graham. You’re above that, douche nugget.”
“You’re right,” I answer. Scott’s always been successful at reprimanding me and Graham, making us feel like shit heads with just a look. “That comment was high on the douche scale. But no, I’m not curious about that.”
“What about protecting someone else other than yourself.”
Such a fucker
. I hold back the grin that wants to paint itself across my face. Of course Scott would go there because of what Graham told him. He probably went on and on about how I had to go down to the suite and relieve Penelope of the horrible people treating her with disrespect. Yes, that was true. But now Scott is eating it up and using it against me.
“No,” I lie.
“That’s not very forthcoming of you, Gavin. I might not be able to read people like you can, but that was a blatant bluff. Try again.”
I roll my eyes under my aviators. This was supposed to be a relaxing Sunday afternoon by the pool, not some interrogation about my feelings. You’d think the guy spent his days conducting self-help seminars instead of working with some of the toughest fighters on the planet with all the bullshit he’s incessantly spouting.
I’m about to tell Scott to fuck off when a woman walking by us accidentally bumps into my chair.
“Oh, I’m sorry…” her voice trails off as recognition claims her face.
I sit up in my lounge chair, practically jack knifing off the damn thing in excitement because, standing before me in a tiny yellow bikini, is none other than the topic of our conversation.
Penelope
. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a pair of sunglasses stuffed in her hair. Her face is devoid of any makeup, giving her a fresh, natural look that literally takes my breath away.
Because I have no shame, I scan her body, taking in her lithe frame and toned limbs. Her stomach is flat, little definitions of abs poking through. And then there are her breasts…
I’ve grown accustomed to Penelope’s tits since first realizing her uniform could be somewhat deceiving. They might not be huge, but they’re still fucking spectacular. It’s good to know because I like breasts of all shapes and sizes. If it has a nipple attached to it, I’m interested.
“Miss Prescott, it’s nice to see you out and about this morning.”
“I told you this was a bad idea,” she mumbles to Davies who is standing next to her in a purple bikini, showing off a sexy as hell, curvy body. Good for Davies
. Damn!
“It’s free drinks,” Davies counters. “How can you refuse free drinks on a hot, sunny day like this?”
Pulling on her friend’s arm, Penelope quickly waves me off and says, “Have a nice day.”
She’s not getting away that easily.
“Why don’t you join us,” I call out, stopping her in her tracks.
With a hand on her hip, she assesses our set up. “You have two lounge chairs and a table of empty drinks, there’s no room for us.”
“We’re good at making room, aren’t we, Scott?” I slap his leg, cluing him in to sit up and stop staring at Davies so he can move to the side.
“Oh, yup, plenty of room.” His legs straddle his lounge chair like mine and he scoots back, motioning to his new found space. “See, so much room. Have a seat ladies.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Davies says, eyeing Scott’s chest and taking a seat next to him. “Gwen.” She holds out her hand in introduction. “But everyone calls me by my last name.”
“Gwen it is,” Scott winks. “I don’t like to be like everyone else.”
“Davies,” Penelope hisses. “What the hell are you doing?”
Without even looking at her, Davies waves her hand in my direction. “Sit down, will you? I’m busy.”
Completely immersed in each other right off the bat, Davies and Scott start a conversation, not bothering to include anyone else, leaving me alone with Penelope. Just the way I like it.
I rub the lounge chair with my hand, a devious smile taking over my face. “Sit, Miss Prescott. I promise I won’t bite.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, defiance written all over her.
“I’ll only sit if you call me Penelope. The minute Miss Prescott slips past your lips, I’m leaving.”
She’s playing hardball, I fucking like it. I’ve felt energized since the last time I saw her so I concede.