“Depends,” she murmured, and then her arms crossed in front of her. Lifted, and with a quick whip, my sweatshirt was in her hand, her hair was flying, and my gaze zoomed in on her tits. Fuller than they used to be. A tiny thickening to her midsection. She was changing. And it seemed to be by the day. Definitely more at night.
At the sight of her, I readjusted and shoved my boxers down to my hips, freeing my erection. I palmed it immediately, cupped my balls and let loose a low growl of need.
“Grab your phone and get on the bed,” I told her. “Lose the pants on the way.”
“Bossy, bossy.”
She hadn’t seen bossy, not yet, but she liked it when I was in charge. Fortunately for me, when it came to Lizzie and her sass and her independence, she liked it when I told her what to do.
“Now, remember what you were doing that first night in my house when I heard you?”
She grinned at me and nodded. “Of course.”
“Good. I want you to do that for me again. Show me what I missed out on.”
She didn’t waste a second. One hand cupped her breast while the other slid down her stomach, straight to her shaved pussy. She had the phone set perfectly, so I could see everything and I shoved back from the desk where I had my phone so she could see how hard she made me.
She whimpered as she played with herself, eyes glossy when she took in the sight of me and moaned. “It shouldn’t be this normal to be so wet already. It’s unbelievable how much you turn me on.”
Her fingers glistened, shined on her pale pink painted fingertips as she dipped them inside and then rolled them around her clit.
I pumped my dick faster, reduced to grunts as I encouraged her, told her what to do. Add a finger. Pinch her nipple. “If I was there, I’d play with your tits until you came again. It was so damn hot.”
“Your dick is hot,” she fired back, but her voice was breathy and shaky, losing the fire intended. “I want to see you come. Want to swallow it down and feel you in the back of my throat.”
She was going to kill me. I’d be late for the bus and the team would show up, finding me dead unconscious with my dick out and my pants at my ankles.
Who gave a shit. Precum pebbled at the tip of my dick and I used it for moisture, fucking my fist like she was doing to herself with her own fingers.
“Shit Lizzie. You’re so hot. I’m going to come.”
“I want to see.”
“You first.”
Because even if we were apart, she came first. Always. In bed and out of it.
I staved off my climax, waiting until her back bowed off the bed and her thighs trembled. She cried out my name as if I was in the room with her, tunneling deep inside of her and it was all I needed.
I snapped. My orgasm hit, and I came into my fist, grunting and clenching my jaw to stay as quiet as possible. Damn hotels and teammates surrounding me.
“I miss you already,” I said, and reached for the box of tissues. I cleaned up while she threw on that damn sweatshirt and then a phone call came through.
“What the hell?”
It was my neighborhood security guard.
“What is it?”
Lizzie was sitting on the bed, cross-legged, hair a mess and cheeks flushed from her orgasm but her eyes were narrowed, worried.
“Hold on. I need to take this call. My security guard at the gate is calling.”
“What’s that mean?”
“That I have a visitor. I’ll give him your number to call when I talk to him, in case you have people over. Hold on a sec.”
“Hello?”
“Hello Mr. Dubiak, a Miss Gabrielle Dubiak is here to see you?”
Oh shit. No way. She would have had to hop on a flight at the butt crack of dawn to be in Vegas by now. My psychotic sister. Good luck, Lizzie. “Send her in. Thanks Joe, and while I have you on the phone, can you add Lizzie Winston to my call list for visitors? She’s staying with me for a while.”
“Sure thing, sir.”
I gave him her number, said goodbye, and was laughing when I clicked back over.
“Lizzie?”
“Yeah, is everything okay?”
“For me, because I’m an hour plane ride away, for you, maybe not. Gabby’s here.”
“Oh crap on a cracker.”
I laughed as her face paled and her jaw dropped.
Gabby might have been pissed initially, but she’d gotten over it. At least I hoped.
I scanned my wrist that was bare of a watch. “And oh, look at the time. I gotta get to practice. Love you!”
“You suck,” she shrieked.
“You love me anyway.”
“Yeah. Be safe today and good luck. If Gabby doesn’t strangle me, we’ll be cheering for you.”
That’s what I liked to hear.
“Love you, Garrett.”
“You too, honey.”
24
Lizzie
Gabrielle Dubiak wasn’t just younger than her brother. At twenty-three, she had a protective streak larger than any human I’d ever met. I figured it was because they’d grown up depending on each other so much. She was only five when her dad died, so she grew up with Garrett being her go-to for everything man-related or necessary.
So even though she’d cooled it when we FaceTimed the other day and eventually was happy for us, I expected her to storm into Garrett’s house, force me to promise never to hurt her brother again or she’d take my knees out with a baseball bat or something.
What I didn’t expect was for her eyes to be puffy and swollen, in desperate need of Visine, and for her to drop her bags in the entry area and yawn into her hand.
“I’m exhausted and starving. Do you have any food or should I order something?”
She barely acknowledged me and I frowned, chasing after.
“Hey Gabby,” I said, while she dug in the fridge. “Is… is everything okay?”
“Yeah, but that flight was killer and I’m wiped. Starving too. How are you feeling?”
Um. This was how this conversation was going to go?
Not at all what I anticipated. More like the Spanish Inquisition.
I rested against the wall, shoulder to it, ankles crossed, and waited until she was done rummaging through Garrett’s refrigerator only to grab out a tub of Greek yogurt and grab a spoon from the island. “So, you’re knocked up and playing house, huh? How’s that going?”
Her tone was too blasé to trick me into thinking she didn’t care. But worry made my brows tighten as I took in the paleness of her face, the purple rings beneath her eyes.
I ignored her question again and went to the other side of the island. As she sucked down the yogurt, I chewed the inside of my cheek. Gabrielle could be tricky, but we’d always been friends. Or at least I thought we had.
“What’s going on?” I asked. She might have been protective but I highly doubted she flew all the way here just to eat her brother’s food.
“Crappy week. Shitty month. A year full of regret.” She shrugged like it meant nothing, but there was pain in her voice that made my gut squeeze.
“Gabby—”
“Don’t.” She pointed her spoon at me and then tossed it into the sink. The metal clinked against the ceramic sink, jarring my ears.