Page 3 of Smoke After Hours

Noah still looked confused, prompting Jake to add, “You probably know him from theFast & Furiousmovies. He’s the one always fighting with Roman, who’s played by Tyrese.”

Noah snapped his fingers. “Ah, got it!”

“You good?” Bentley asked, distracting me from the others as she leaned over and took a drag of the blunt that was in between my two fingers, her soft lips wrapping around it like a sinful exchange between lovers.

Nah. Nothing is good when I have to watch you do your mouth like that.She knew what the fuck she was doing. She had to. Instead of saying any of that, I voiced, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?” she asked, her long lashes dropping to my hand as she took another puff. Why she didn’t just take the damnthing out of my hand was beyond me, but she always did this when she sampled what I was smoking.

When a couple of the other residents, Amiya and Kamryn, called Bentley over to the kitchen, she gathered her things and excused herself.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, which was pretty much the norm between us. I eventually joined the conversation with the guys again, but I stole glances at Bentley every time that I could.

“You should tell her, man,” Ryan encouraged, while Messiah, Jake, and Noah were discussing random shit the higher they got.

“Not yet,” I answered.

He laughed. “I don’t know what the hell you’re waiting for. Y’all have been best friends forever.”

You wouldn’t understand.And I couldn’t explain it. If she were anyone else, I would have made my obnoxious crush known years ago. Yet, Bentley and I had been through a lot of shit together.

When we first met, she was on the dance team for her private high school, and I was captain of the football team at my public high school. We were never supposed to meet back then. I was sure of that. However, both of our schools had signed up for one of the biggest high school sports battles on the East Coast at the time. By the end of the tournament, my school played hers.

We won of course. We were just better. Later that night, I ran into Bentley and her friends at a party, and she told me she had just moved to the States from Canada but was originally from Ethiopia. We bonded over our African roots.

That night, we talked for hours about any and everything. Blunts were passed around, and I was there for Bentley to take her first puffs, mesmerized by how smooth she exhaled after her first coughing fit. I got teased so much because I wasn’t a talker. Never had been. But that was the thing about Bentley. I opened up to her in ways I hadn’t with anyone else before that night.

We promised to keep in touch, but we didn’t connect again until a few years later and the situation was much different.

No one understood why Bentley and I never dated. Hell, my own brother and sister-in-law were confused when it came to us. On the outside, we seemed perfect for each other. We were best friends. We used to work together at Heavenly Hash Dispensary, Sweet Baby Jay’s Bar, and Undefined Sanctum Cigar Lounge, all of which were owned by Crayson and Jordyn Madden. We still worked for Jordyn and Crayson and stepped in whenever they needed extra hands, but now, the two of us managed Elevated Express, Jordyn and Crayson’s cannabis delivery service that merged all their worlds together.

The vibe between us was always good. Yet, many didn’t know it was bad news if we started dating. We knew though. We understood why being together would shake the very foundation that we fought so hard to build between us.

I was Volley Paul, with Kenyan roots who was fluent in English and Swahili. I was Volley Paul, the brother of LaCross and son of Regina Paul, whose obsession with the Olympics was why we were named after sports.

Yet, I was also Volley Paul, a man with secrets who was recruited at a young age to take on what became the biggest job of my life.

Protecting Bentley Blackwood.

Bentley wasn’t the name she was born with. The Blackwoods weren’t her birth family. And when I reconnected with her as an adult, she needed me more than anyone had in my entire life.

Yet, the tides were turning, and after spending a decade watching her, being near her, guarding her … the temptation was finally becoming too much for me. She always tested my self-control, making me feel like I was seconds away from either spanking her ass for teasing me or fucking her against a wall for challenging my patience.

All of us stayed up getting high for another hour before we began to call it a night. As usual, I waited until Bentley went to her room on one side of the hall before I went to mine on the other, our eyes locking before we turned our respective corners.

Usually, being close to her was a necessity. However, there was a reason I’d chosen these rooms for us when we moved into Pot Palace.

With the layout of the floor, the view of our windows was directly across from each other. I could see if anyone came through her door. I could spot someone scaling the fire escape to her window. Basically, we could see directly into each other’s room.

She sometimes called me her secret bodyguard.

I often called her my main attraction.

Years ago, I vowed not to touch her. I never planned for us to get so close. For her to become as much of a part of me as breathing. She was my best friend and my security assignment. Touching her would lead to nothing but problems. I’d known it throughout the duration of this job.

It didn’t stop us from getting creative, though—neither of us ever voicing that we knew exactly what we were doing when she slightly opened her curtains while I left mine ajar.

She removed her shirt first, giving me a better look of her peach-colored bra and the wings of her colorful butterfly tattoo on her shoulder. Her bedroom lights were dimmed, while mine were cut off completely. However, she knew I was there … my eyes on her like always.

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