Page 73 of Played
“Yeah, but my teammate doesn’t have my back, we lose a game. You? You could lose your life.”
Silence falls between us, and it’s louder than the music blaring in the club. Unease curls inside my chest, curdles in my stomach. That, I attribute to this conversation and the undercurrent of fear running through it. The ripple of trepidation rappelling down my spine? I don’t know its origin. And I don’t desire to analyze it.
“Just like you train to be the best at what you do, so do I,” I murmur just loud enough to be heard over the chatter, laughter, and music. “My dad once told me that in our field, we have to recognize when we’re mentally and physically ready to go. The first five and last five years are the most dangerous to firefighters. It’s when people are most prone to get hurt. In the first five, we’re still learning and training; we’re still new. And in the last five, we might believe we know everything and there’s nothing else to learn. That’s equally dangerous. Yes, I’m in my first five, and I continue to train on the calls as well as when I’m not on them. I acknowledge that I’m still green in some ways, and accepting this keeps me aware, careful. But in all that, I’m not ready to go. I’m mentally and physically capable of doing this job that I love, just like your body andheart will let you know when you’re ready to retire from a sport you’re passionate about.”
He doesn’t reply, but the hard set of his sensual mouth telegraphs that he’s not happy about what I’ve said. And here’s another issue with us other than the obvious. Another reason he’ll never trust me with his heart, if it was even an option. My job.
And a part of me resents him for that. Athletes are injured all the time when they go out on the ice or field or pitch. But I would never ask him to reconsider his profession or hold it against him because he loves it too much.
I drop my gaze to my drink, then raise it to my mouth for another sip. Hopelessness digs out a hole inside me, and for the second time in two days, angry tears burn my eyes.
“Hey.” Once more, he cups my chin and lifts my head, granting me no option but to look at him. He frowns as he studies my face, but then his expression softens. “I didn’t ask you here to argue or bring you down. I’m sorry.”
He leans down, brushing his lips against mine. Once. Twice. Then firmer, tracing his tongue across the seam of my lips, then thrusting in between them. On a groan, I open wider for him, letting him sweep me up and away in this crazy high only he creates within me.
Belatedly remembering where we are—and that people have cell phones with cameras—I reluctantly pull away from him. “Solomon,” I whisper, settling a hand on his thigh.
But the muscles under my palm flex, pushing another blast of lust through me. On reflex, I curl my fingers into the tight, rock-hard flesh beneath me, and he covers my hand, pressing it hard. I shift my gaze up, and it crashes into his. The heat there touches me like a physical caress, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.
“Don’t tempt me, ma,” he growls. “I ain’t been inside you in six days. And from the way you’re shifting and shit on this couch, I know that pussy’s dripping wet for me. Isn’t it?”
I nod. Why lie? Especially when I’m dying for him to find out for himself.
“Let’s get out of here,” he mutters.
Don’t have to tell me twice.
Just as he removes his arm from behind me and grabs my hand, Noni and Minnie walk into the section. My friend grins, waving at me. Her eyes go comically wide as they land on Solomon, and her grin grows wider, showing all thirty-two teeth.
“Oops, I forgot Noni was coming. You said I could invite her. That’s still cool, right?”
“Of course. Like Ciaran knows everyone in this section. His motto is, for damn sure, the more the merrier.”
I laugh, rising from the couch, tugging down the hem of my beige off-the-shoulder bandage dress.
“Fuck, ma,” Solomon grunts.
I glance behind me, and he’s staring at my ass, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Snorting, I snap my fingers in his face. But secretly? I’m flattered and thrilled. Sue me. I love that this gorgeous man finds me sexy.
“Hey, eyes up here,” I order.
Slowly, he drags his gaze up my body, over my hips, belly, and breasts until he meets my eyes.
“My bad. Firefighting does a body good.” He smirks, standing next to me.
Smiling, I turn back to my best friend and her twin. As I round the table, I reach Noni and pull her in for a hug. She returns the embrace, squeezing me tightly and squealing in my ear like we haven’t seen each other in years instead of a couple of days.
“Hey, Minnie. Nice to see you again.” I release Noni and greet her twin.
As usual, she wears a stale expression, giving me the barest of smiles. I swear, this girl. She’s so lucky I love Noni or she would definitely see another side of me.
It’s a shame she’s always wearing that sour-ass face too. At least with me she does. Because she’s a beautiful woman. Noni and Minnie are fraternal twins, but both share petite curvaceous figures that a lot of women pay out money for. Noni has stunning, smooth dark skin and upturned brown eyes, with a mouth I’ve heard more than one rude-ass man describe as a dick teaser. Her twin’s complexion is several shades lighter, and though they share the same eye color, Minnie’s are more oval shaped, and her features are delicate, while Noni’s are as bold as her personality.
My girl and her twin are bad as fuck. Unfortunately, so is Minnie’s personality. I reiterate, at least with me.
But I’ma let Minnie live tonight. This is Solomon’s friend’s birthday, and I’ll control my mouth. As long as she does the same.
“Solomon.” I turn to him, smiling wide. Yeah, I’m pretty delighted that my girl is meeting my ... well, whatever the hell he is to me. The intrusion of that thought threatens to dampen my mood, so I shove it along. “This is my best friend, Monica, and her twin sister, Minerva. Or Noni and Minnie. Noni, Minnie, this is Solomon Young.”
