Page 43 of A Major Puck Up

Coach: Yes, I’m fucking jealous. I’m jealous of anyone who gets to spend time with you. I’m jealous of my own goddamn sister because she gets to see your beautiful face every damn day. I’m jealous of your shadow because it gets to be where you are. So yeah, I’m jealous of whoever this Gabe is because he just got to have dinner with you.

Holy shit. I reread Gavin’s message at least five times. Then I decide I’m done with texting. So, with a glass of wine in hand, I head for my bed and click on Gavin’s name.

Two rings later, he appears on my screen. His face is etched with frustration and his hair is wild, like he’s been pulling on it. His brown eyes dart from side to side, like he’s scanning my surroundings. Then he sighs and all but deflates.

“It’s just me, handsome.” I give him what I hope is a sexy smile and hold up my glass of wine.

“Where’s Gabe?” He says Gabe’s name like it’s a disease. It’s hard to contain my giddiness over seeing him this way. Maybe I should feel bad, but jealous Gavin is hot. Like scorching-level hot.

I run my tongue over the rim of my glass and then take a sip.

His eyes go molten as he watches me.

“He left.”

Then that jaw ticks. “Are you going to tell me who he is?”

I set my glass on the nightstand next to my bed, then I prop my phone up against a candle and shimmy back a few inches. “Figured you’d prefer doing something other than talking about my gay best friend slash coworker.” Without waiting for his response, I pull my shirt over my head, exposing my breasts.

“Jesus.” Gavin roughs a hand down his face. “Please tell me you wore a bra to dinner with your friend.”

I slide a finger over my nipple and circle it until it pebbles. “I don’t like to lie.”

“Fuck, Mills, what are you doing?”

The rough timbre of his voice lights a fire inside me. I nibble on my bottom lip and duck my chin innocently. “I was in the mood to play, but then you said you don’t play games.”

Gavin stands, his leather chair squeaking, and disappears from view. “You are in so much trouble.” A door clicks shut on his end, and then he’s back, dropping into his seat with a scowl. “I’m in my fucking office.”

“Shame. I’m naked in my bed.”

He angles forward like if he does, he can see my lower half. But the screen cuts off at my belly, so he can’t tell if I’m completely naked. The vein throbbing in his forehead has me worrying he’ll hurt himself trying to figure it out, so I put him out of his misery and go up on my knees so he can see that I’m still in my leggings.

“The way I want to lick those tits, Peaches.” He groans as he settles back in his chair.

“Give me a tour of your office.”

The smirk he gives me is pure mischief. “That really what you want to do while we’re alone and you’re topless?”

“Show me your office, and then maybe I’ll show you something of mine.”

“Right.” He snatches his phone off the desk and flips the screen. Then he pans the space slowly, pointing out one thing after another. Bookshelves, a couch, visitor chairs, a couple of things hanging on the walls. He rattles them all off quickly, rushing so we can get to the good stuff.

His impatience makes me grin, but I like seeing this part of his life. The CEO at work. Now when I think about what he’s doing, I can paint more accurate pictures of how he spends his days. Makes him feel more real. And as I see this Gavin, one I’m unfamiliar with, I can’t help but wonder if I could ever really fit into his world.

It’s a healthy dose of reality. A reality I’ll think about later.

“Do me a favor, Coach,” I say, pushing away the concern beginning to niggle at the back of my mind. “Lean back in your chair and show me what you’d do if I were actually there.”

The screen goes dark for an instant, and then Gavin’s there again. “Uh-uh. I gave you your little tour, now I want one of my own.”

“What is it you want to see?” With both hands, I circle my nipples again and give them both a little tug.

He closes his eyes and groans as if he’s in pain. “Millie Hall, please, baby, you are killing me.”

“Oh, the full name. I must have done something really bad if you’re pulling that out.” I hold both hands out, then, still on my knees, I slide my palms down my stomach and to my hips until my thumbs have dipped beneath the fabric of my leggings.

“Don’t do it, baby. Please.”

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