The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(47)

“But I’ve decided I would be more fulfilled as the CEO of Casa Fiorino.”

Lou looked at her curiously, the pen suspended in his hand. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll stay on until this season’s over, but I’m leaving the Riot,” Eloise said. “Well, professionally speaking. I’ll be in the stands for as many games as possible.”

Lou smiled and nodded, despite the shocked look on his face. “That’s…that’s wonderful. I’m not sure what to say?”

Eloise smiled. “How about, ‘can I make a reservation please?’”

***

Cole felt the warm tropical breeze float across his skin. He opened his eyes to see palm trees waving lazily outside their window. Another perfect day in paradise. The Riot made it to the semifinals, but unfortunately, Lord Stanley would have to wait for another year. Cole didn’t mind; it meant he got to be on vacation in Florida that much sooner.

Eloise’s head lay nestled on top of his chest, still asleep. He combed his fingers through her long chestnut locks, already starting to lighten from the Florida sun. The last two months had been a challenge, but they’d made it work. Until the post season ended, Eloise carried her laptop and cell phone everywhere, and Cole made sure he cut his poker games and nights out with his teammates short in order to spend as much time together as possible. Each day they spent together made him more and more certain she was the one he’d been waiting for. His long history of groupie girlfriends had been a primer, a veritable dictionary of what-not-to-want in a woman, a wife, a mother for his children. But now the definition of all those lay right here in bed with him, snuggled and snoring right next to his heart. He couldn’t wait to get Casa Fiorino up and running when they returned to Rochester.

She stirred, wiggling against him under the covers. His hand rode the curves of her shoulder, her spine, and her deliciously round rump. The swish of skin against skin made his cock hard, and he hoped she’d wake soon so he could slide it home inside her, f*ck her solid, fondle and suck her gorgeous tits and kiss her to distraction all before breakfast.

His visualizations all went to hell with the sound of her cell phone buzzing on the wicker nightstand next to the bed. The thing rarely stopped. Calls from the office in Rochester still came in with annoying frequency despite playing their last game a full two weeks ago. It was a compromise he’d have to learn to live with. Eloise groaned and rolled over to pick it up, one arm still draped around Cole’s torso.

“Hello,” she answered in that sexy morning voice he loved. His cock jerked even more stiffly to attention. “Hey, sis. No, no it’s fine. I’m up.”

Liar, Cole thought. He was the one who was up.

“What?! No way! OMG, congrats! Getting married, that’s fantabulous. Oh, I’m so happy for you, sweetie!”

Cole looked down at her arm that lay around his midsection and pried her hand loose so he could hold it in his own. As she talked and dished with her sister, he vaguely wondered which one, as Eloise had two. Not that it mattered, but as he cradled her delicate hand he imagined how nice a ring would look on her dainty finger too.

They were partners in every sense of the word, and some pressed carbon would make it official. He couldn’t help but grin as he moved her hand down the length of his body.

She rose up on an elbow, grinning at him with one hand wrapped around his shaft and another pressing a phone against her ear.

According to Shredder, a dangerous rebound can drift into the slot. But rebounds weren’t always bad. Sometimes, they were called second chances.

Yes, he could spend a lifetime with this woman.

And he would.

***





BONUS STORY – BENCHED



PART ONE





By

Colleen Charles





Chapter 1

The ivory and gold antique dresser creaked with every shudder, like it needed a good spray of WD-40. A beveled mirror banged against the wall in perfect rhythm.

Heather McNeal clutched the mirror with her tapered fingers as she used it to stabilize her petite frame. The tanned flesh of her back was flush with the cool glass. Her eyes fluttered closed, concealing their unique blue color and her lush lips fell open. Tiny pants of breath escaped on sighs. Her long, silky blonde hair clung to her flushed face.

She wrapped long, slender legs around Mark Spencer’s toned abs and back as he spread her legs wide. Heather’s skirt bunched up around her waist and he snaked an arm around her to yank her closer. The other hand freed her breast from the lacy black push-up bra. He kneaded the plump flesh with his fingers, then bent to taste the rosy tip with a flick of his tongue.

Adam Spencer inhaled a ragged breath. He knew. Knew what was happening before seeing it with his own eyes. Now, the only thing that mattered was the identity of the man with his pants down around his ankles. The one he was about to kill.

And the bitch.

She’d betrayed him. In the damned newly renovated room with its damned cedar ceiling, hand-scraped floors and f*cking expensive leather furniture. In that beautiful room was the sight that would be burned in his brain for all eternity.

The sight of his * brother f*cking his fiancée.

The same girl he’d loved since grade school. The one who loved him just as much. Had loved him. Past tense.

He stood there in the door frame, eyes locked on his brother’s bare ass as his cock pounded in and out of his future wife. Numb. The numbness pervaded, but anger would come later. Right now, he just stared. Patiently waiting for them to notice they weren’t alone. Patiently waiting for them to start blabbing at him with a bunch of bullshit excuses that would make his heartbreak even worse.