I’d closed the space between us, cupped his rough cheeks in my palms, and brushed my lips across his, over and over, until he took control.
We didn’t fuck that night. No, it definitely wasn’t fucking. It was so much more than that.
I made love for the first time in my life.
The glazed look in Lennon’s eyes and the flush creeping along her neck is a dead giveaway that she’s reliving the night we spent together. The one and only time she opened herself up to me, letting me in not just physically—which was awesome—but mentally as well. She dropped her walls that night, and I’ve never experienced anything more beautiful.
It’s possible she’s still under the misguided assumption that my hurt feelings and sense of betrayal were connected to Jess. And that’s something I need to sort out before I take my plan any further.
Shifting to rest my elbows on my knees, I say, “Jess and I were over long before things came to a head between us.”
Lennon blinks at me, her features morphing into a nonchalant mask. It’s a look I’ve become accustomed to these last eighteen months. Any time I bring up us, or the very possibility of an us, she slides it into place.
But I don’t let it stop me from telling her what I came here to say. “We hadn’t slept together for nearly two months when I walked in on her and Fitzy banging in my bed.” I keep my gaze locked on hers. “I’d known something was off for a long time, that we were off. I could feel it. Whenever I tried to talk to Jess about it, she played it as if it were all in my head. But she wasn’t the same girl I’d fallen in love with. She’d changed, and I didn’t like the new version of her.”
Len swallows but remains silent, so I go on.
“The day everything blew up in my face, I’d come home early, intent on breaking things off with her. I couldn’t be with someone I didn’t love—let alone like—anymore.”
“But you were so devastated. I saw it in your eyes. It shattered you.”
I nod. “I was pretty messed up, but I wasn’t heartbroken. What hurt was the fact that I’d spent three years of my life with her. Even if we weren’t in love anymore, I thought we respected each other. And for her to pull that blackmail shit? That hurt. Not losing her. She hadn’t been mine for a long time, Lennon.”
Her eyes are glassy when she whispers, “Why are you telling me this?”
Straightening, I stand and slide my hands in my pockets. “You know why,” I say pointedly, then I walk out so she can process everything I’ve said.
Archer turns his back to me and leaves my office just as quietly as he entered, and I have no idea what to think.
His words play on a loop in my head: Jess and I were over long before things came to a head between us.
I flop in my seat and strum my nails on the edge of my desk. The rhythmic sound soothes my frayed nerves. All this time, I thought she broke his heart. And all this time, I was wrong.
My brain has officially clocked off, but it’s after five anyway. I shut down my computer and grab my bag, slinging the strap over my shoulder on my way out the door. Clay is still at his desk, tapping away on his keyboard. “Later, Clay,” I say on my way past him.
“Later, boss lady,” he murmurs, his focus never straying from his task.
I need to see about giving him a raise . . .
Swinging the apartment door open, I’m greeted by a delicious smell. I scan the room. My eyes narrow in on Bates standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot while Emory watches him from her perch on one of the barstools.
I kick off my boots at the door then make my approach. “What’s going on in here?”
Em twists her head to look at me, a dreamy smile on her face. “Bates is making me lasagna.”
I laugh. Like, full-on belly laugh. “What?”
“It’s the only thing I know how to cook, so don’t go getting any ideas,” my brother says, turning to face me, hands on his hips and a ridiculous frilly apron tied around his neck.
“Since when can you cook anything?” I ask.
He shrugs, returning his attention to the stove. “When I first started in the minors, money was tight, and I roomed with an Italian dude, Leo Rossi. He showed me how to make it. It’s cheap and easy to do in bulk. Plus, you can load it with vegetables, and you don’t even notice.”
I nod, remembering Leo. “Why am I only just learning about this now?”
Bates smirks over his shoulder at me. “A guy’s gotta have some secrets.”
I scoff. “I’d rather you kept your sexcapades a secret than this.”
The bastard just laughs. “Yeah, but my sexcapades—great word, by the way; I’m stealing it—keep you in those stupid, expensive shoes you like so much.”
“I’d happily stop my collection right where it’s at if I never had to hear about another one of your exploits,” I shoot back.
Em chuckles. “You guys are on fire tonight. Who would have thought pregnancy cravings would result in a real-life sitcom playing out in my very own kitchen.”
“Pregnancy cravings?”
She nods and rubs the itty-bitty bump protruding from her otherwise flat stomach. “Yeah, sproglet wanted lasagna, and I just so happened to be whining to your amazingly talented brother here about it, and he offered to make it for me.”
I frown. “Two things,” I say, holding up two fingers. “What the fuck is sproglet? And second, my ‘amazingly talented brother’? What the hell?”
Em rolls her eyes at me. “Sproglet is the baby. Bash’s sprog infiltrated my egg and turned it into a sproglet. See how that works?”
I cringe. “Gross, now I’m going to think about Bash’s come every time you mention the baby.”
She shrugs, then Bates chimes in, “I think it’s cool, Emmy.”
“Me too,” she says, beaming at Bates. “And anyone who satisfies my cravings gets massive kudos from me. Bates is my new favorite person.”
“Right, well, I’m going to leave this little lovefest and have a shower. You two are grossing me out,” I tell them then head for the hall to the sanctuary of my bedroom.
An hour later, Em knocks on my door, calling out, “Dinner’s ready.”
“Coming,” I call back.
I shuffle along the hall in a pair of knee-high socks, sleep shorts, and tank—sans bra—only to come to an abrupt halt at the sight of five of Bates’ teammates lounging around my living room. Their eyes are all glued to my chest.
I’m in no way ashamed or embarrassed of my body, but I’m not down with all these eyes fixed on my girls. I cross my arms, spin on my heel, and leg it back to my room where I grab a hoody and throw it on over my tank before returning to the guests I didn’t know we had.
When I reappear, Jonesy offers me a bashful smile. “Hey, Lennon,” he says with an awkward hand-lift-wave sort of thing.
I lift my chin in his direction. “'Sup, Jonesy?” I ask on my way to grab some food before it’s all gone.
He jumps to his feet and rushes to catch up with me, snagging a plate of his own and piling a huge serving of steaming-hot lasagna on it. “I haven’t seen you for ages. We should go for a beer some time and catch up,” he says with a hopeful smile.