Chapter Ten

If Gen was truthful and hadno idea she was coming to the one place I mentioned, then I'm confident there's someone up there looking out for me.

I wasn't lying when I told her she's been on my mind since that night. For two weeks now, I've been trying to find that high again, to relive a fraction of the fun I had with her. But nothing's been as thrilling as fucking the uptight lawyer turned sex-crazed siren.

And now she's here, handling something on her phone, and I have half an hour to convince her she wants to give it another go. She probably does since her body language is all over the place, but she's too proud—or stubborn—to admit it. I have to get past those thick and tall walls of hers again. I did it once before, so I'm sure I'll manage.

"Alright, let's get on with it," I say, picking up our glasses and getting up from our booth.

Ah, I almost forgot how her doe eyes widen whenever she's surprised or shocked. "Where are we going?"

"The back room. This is too loud." When she hesitates, I give her an encouraging wink. "Come on, love. Where's your sense of adventure?"

She pouts as she shimmies her way out of the booth. She looks fucking gorgeous in that dress, her appealing curves heightened by the perfect fit. Because she can't help herself, she takes the lead and walks over to the back room, easily noticeable thanks to the sign. I don't mind, as it allows me to admire her perky bum.

The music there isn't as loud, and the ambiance is more intimate. There's a pool table in a corner, where two blokes are having a game, and low couches are arranged in private sections. I planned on us sitting in one of those, but the way she eyes the table changes my mind.

"Do you play?" I ask.

"I haven't in a while."

That's all I need. I head over to the guys. "Sorry mates, I'm gonna need the pool table."

They comply without issue, and I settle our glasses on a table nearby to retrieve the balls and start a new game. Gen is by my side when I look up, gazing at me with curiosity. "So, it's not just The Plaza. You walk around like you own the place everywhere."

I chuckle, amused by her perception of me. "Well, in this case, I own a third of the place."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I bought it from the owners with two mates a few years back. Eli and I stay in the background, but Kill handles it."

"Kill?"

"Killian. The tough-looking bloke behind the bar."

"Are you here a lot, then?"

"You're full of queries tonight, red. How about this: We play a game, and for every ball you sink, I'll allow you a question."

She considers it for several seconds. "Will I have to answer a question for every ball you sink?"

"That would only be fair."

"Not really, since you own this place and probably play pool often."

"Alright. I get one question for every two balls, so you have twice as many."

"Better. And I have one veto, where I don't have to answer."

"Let's do this then. Do you want to break?" I offer, pointing at the balls I just finished setting.

"No, go ahead."

I walk over to the wall to pick a cue, and she does the same, setting her blazer on a tall stool by our table. With her hip leaning onto the pool table, she watches as I bend over to break. My firm and precise hit sends the white ball rolling into the foot spot. Colorful balls scatter over the green felt, and two stripes sink.

First question, then. "What kind of lawyer are you?"

She raises a perfect eyebrow at me. "Why are you so certain I'm a lawyer?"

"Because I hardly see any other profession draft a sex contract for a one-night stand."

Her plump lips pinch into a straight line, and I hide my smile by going around the table for my next shot. "I'm a corporate lawyer," she eventually reveals.

"You work for a big corporation, then?"

"That's a second question—which you haven't earned yet."

Cheeky little…I take my shot, expertly sinking another ball. One hit later, I have the right to another answer. I straighten up, give it a good pondering, and meet her ocean eyes again.

"What's up with the random hookups?"

"Excuse me?"

"No judging here. You're free to do whatever you want. But you don't strike me as someone who does that."

"Why?"

"Because you don't seem comfortable doing it."

The longer she takes to think about it, the more I believe she'll use her veto. Maybe I was a little too forward here, but I've been dying to know since our first encounter.

"I have a… list," she reluctantly confesses.

"A list?"

"Of things I want to explore, of stuff I want to try."

"Sex stuff?"

She nods, and my dick nods in return. So, she's working her way through the ABCs of sex? And I was unknowingly part of it?

"How many have you done so far?"

I know she's a little overwhelmed because instead of telling me it's another question, she answers, "Two."

So, I was one, and there was someone else. Earlier, when I saw her with that guy, I realized she has an uncanny ability to trigger jealousy in me. But the way my body reacts to this is ridiculous. My hand fists the cue I'm holding, enough for my knuckles to turn white.

"Which ones?" I ask.

She looks up almost timidly. "Try a Jacob's ladder, and being edged so much I begged for it."

Granite. My cock's turned to granite. So I was both those things. Good.

Now, I need to get another two balls in there because I'm not done asking questions. It's getting tricky with hers taking up most of the space, but I manage one. To sink the second one though, I have to hit a solid first, which makes it a foul.

"My turn," she says with enthusiasm.

"Wait a second, I got two."

"With a foul."

"Still two, love."

She squints her eyes at me, unimpressed by my logic. In the end, she surprises me by giving in. "This counts as cheating in my books, but I'll allow it."

"How magnanimous of you." I lean back onto the table, its edge leveled with my bum, and fold my arms over my chest as I study her freckled face. "Did you really not think of me during those two weeks?"

Redness spreads across her cheeks, eating away the golden specks, and I know this gives me a better answer than anything she could say. She did think about me. Just like I thought about her.

"I'm using my veto for this one," she says, eyes fluttering to the pool table to assess the game's situation.

This is a strategic error from her; I now get to have two answers. To give her some space to breathe after my invasive questions, I decide to be lenient. "Tell me a random fact about yourself, then."

She's on the other end of the table now, and I watch her precise motions as she lowers to align her cue. When she looks up to meet my eyes, I read the mischievousness in them but also evident pride. "I grew up in a house with a billiard room," she answers.

With remarkable accuracy, she sends the white ball rolling—right into an awaiting stripe that falls into a nearby hole.

Never trust a lawyer. Especially when that lawyer has the ability to relocate all of the blood in my body to my cock, rather than my brain.

She looks at me from head to toe, trying to come up with her first question.

"Why the tattoos and piercings?"

"It's my idea of aesthetics. Why? Do you not like them?"

She scans my forearms, tilting her head to the side as she does. There's nothing but want on her face. "I don't hate them."

Then she returns to the game and easily scores another ball. "Do you have a favorite one?"

"Of course."

When I don't make a move, she sighs with impatience. "Can I see it?"

"It's not in a showable place, love. Not right now, at least."

Her cheeks turn pink again, and I don't hide the grin it brings to my lips. For the next ball she decides to sink, she has to lean far forward, which raises the skirt of her dress and gives me a delightful view of her long legs and perky arse. When she turns back to me, my eyes are high enough not to betray my crassness.

The next question she decides on is, "Since you own the place and are quite the manwhore, have you ever had sex on this pool table?"

It's so unexpected that I can't stop the genuine laughter that pours out of me. "Why? Do you want me to throw everyone out and show you what it's like?"

"No, I was wondering if I'll need an anti-bacterial shower after this. So?"

"I have, yeah. A few times. Kill and Eli, too. The women ask for it, and we're nothing if not gentlemen, so we indulge."

She grimaces and comes toward me for her next hit. This time, she bends over right in front of me, and while she probably expects me to move, I don't. So when she backs up to adjust herself, she ends up pressed right onto my cock.

"Do you mind?" she asks, half-irritated, half-flustered.

"Not at all, love. Go for it."

She sighs but stays right there, focusing on her game. Just as she's about to hit the cue ball, I lay a hand on her hip. It destabilizes her, but not enough to make her fail. "Why did you leave Australia?" she asks, turning around.

"I needed a fresh start and a clean slate."

"When was that?"

"That's another question, Miss Kensington."

That doesn't buy me much time, as she swiftly scores once more. Fuck, she's too good at this. I might not get to ask something else.

"Since you mentioned a clean slate, do you have a criminal record there?"

She's a little too perspicacious for my liking. "I did six months of juvie when I was fifteen. And they gave me a year in prison when I was seventeen."

"For what?"

"I fell into the wrong circles and became involved in drugs."

"Selling or using?"

"Moving it."

She thinks about it for a moment, and I hate that some dumb mistakes I made as a kid will affect the way she sees me from now on. I'm not that person anymore.

"And now?" she asks.

"I haven't been involved in all that since I came to America thirteen years ago. In fact, this place has a zero-tolerance policy."

The entire time she processes my words, her eyes remain on mine. I hope she'll see that I was a stupid child who was given a shit hand—not an addict, not a criminal, and not a bad guy. Just some dumb teenager who tried to crawl his way out of the gutter the only way he could think of.

"Good," she concludes, moving to the other side of the table.

A long, deep sigh flows out of me, reassured to see she doesn't seem too affected by my past.

"What's written on your knuckles?" she decides next.

Well, that's the perfect follow-up. I align my hands, one above the other, thumbs facing up, to show her. The letters there are blurry because it's old and on a part that doesn't heal well, but close like she is, she can read EVER and GAIN—an incentive to keep moving forward and bettering myself. Then, once she has read them, I show her my thumbs along with them, which transforms the meaning into NEVER AGAIN.

There's something genuine, an understanding in the smile she offers me when she looks up. "Is the phoenix also a symbol of this?" she cleverly wonders.

"It is. It might be a bit tacky, but I was young and wanted something big to remind me that I was on a better path."

We get lost in one another's eyes, and for a second, there, we're having a moment. I've made a small breach in her walls and am a step closer to getting past them.

Until someone barges in, displaying his usual lack of tact and sense of timing. "There you are!" Eli says. "Kill wants to know if—" he notices Gen, and whatever he was about to say dies then and there. "Oh, hello."

Given Gen's expression, I reckon she remembers who he is—from his profile on the dating app. He, however, can't place her since he's never seen her face. "Why are you somehow familiar?" he asks after a few seconds, intently focused on her features.

"This is Jessica," I explain.

His expression lightens up as if struck by an epiphany. "Oh my God, of course!" He then turns to me and slaps my shoulder. "Did you finally grow some balls and text her?"

"Go away," I order.

He ignores me, turning to Gen instead. "He's been a bit of a mess since you two—"

"Elijah, I will smother you in your sleep. Go. Away."

"Alright, alright." He turns around but remembers he needs something, doing a full spin instead. "Killian sent you the program for next month, and he wanted to know if you'll have enough time to make us a poster."

"I will. Now, sod off."

He does, slowly backing up while his eyes travel between Gen and me, a stupid grin plastered on his face. Once he's gone, she looks up at me with an expression I can't quite read.

"Were you really a mess?" she asks. Fucking Eli…

"You're out of questions, love."

Again, that doesn't buy me much time, as she promptly scores another ball. "Were you really a mess?" she repeats.

"A mess might be a big word for it. But I was agitated."

"Why?"

"Because I had a great time with you, and it was hard to accept there wouldn't be any more of it."

She's wholly unimpressed by my explanation, her auburn eyebrow lifting high. "So, the sex was nice, and you wanted more of it?"

I chuckle, entertained by the fire within her, like always. "Great sex is a motivator, for sure. But you were uniquely intriguing. You were as much a part of my agitation as the fantastic sex."

For a moment, there's only the sound of the rock band in the other room. Then, another melody rises. She reacts to it, walking up to her purse to retrieve her phone. Her screen is lit up, and the music stops when she slides a finger on it.

"It's been half an hour," she tells me.

"You set a timer?"

"It felt necessary."

As much as I hope she'll want to stay, I'm not convinced I did such a great job selling myself. "So, what do you want to do, red?"

When she looks around, I'm convinced I failed. Her blue irises scan the room, appraising her options. Since a deal is a deal, I look along with her. "Alan, right here, is a nice bloke. He does charity work around here, and I've never seen him bother a lady. Jared, over there, is pretty decent, too. Dylan though, that one with the red cap, you don't want to go near him."

"Maybe we should finish first," she suggests.

Right. She has the eight ball to sink, and then we're done. I'm still not over how good she is at this. She fucking wiped the floor with me. But that doesn't strike my ego as much as it does my interest. Something tells me she's full of surprises like this, and I long to uncover them one by one.

She looks mighty focused when she bends over to align herself with the cue and eight balls. It's a straightforward shot, so I doubt she'll miss it, but I hope for it. I'd still have two balls to get in there and earn myself one last question.

Her hit is precise, and as soon as the white ball is sent rolling, I know she nailed it. It knocks into the eight ball, sending it right into a corner where it sinks. When she turns around this time, she's uncharacteristically uncertain, lacking her usual assurance.

"What if—" she starts before meeting my eyes, her hands fidgeting around the cue. "What if I've been agitated too?"

I already knew it, but the admission feels grand. Slowly, I take a step toward her. "You have?"

"I have, yes. Restless, even."

"What do you want to do about it, red?" Now, I'm right in front of her, holding back everything within me not to rush her, not to take what I so fiercely want—what I need. She settles her cue down on the table, and her hands come to the strings of my hoodie.

She's torn, debating what she should do about me, about this insane chemistry that sizzles between us. Everything else disappears—the music, the patrons, the smell of spilled drinks… All I can see are those beautiful eyes so full of questions and desires.

"Do you think we can do this and stay casual? No-strings-attached?"

"That's all I can do, love. I don't have time for anything else." My skin is on fire, burning everywhere we touch, and when I bend a knee, she spreads her legs just a little to allow my thigh between them.

"Me neither. So maybe you could help me with my list?"

"It would be my greatest pleasure, Gen."

"Really?"

I nod, touched by her lack of self-confidence. She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, and she must feel how hard I am right now.

Time seems to have stalled, and I don't dare move for fear that I'll break whatever spell has fallen upon us. This tension, this suspense, drives me mad, but my soul feeds on it, reveling in the knowledge that I might be inside her again.

When she pulls up the hood of my hoodie, I think she's fidgeting again. But then, once it's secured on my head, she grabs onto the sides and tugs me down, lowering my lips onto her awaiting mouth. My hand instantly reaches around her slim figure, holding her close as I deepen the shy kiss she initiated.

Safely hidden in the small alcove of my hood that she firmly keeps down, we lose ourselves in the moment, getting reacquainted with one another. She isn't shy anymore when I unlock my jaw, her warm tongue coming to meet mine in its territory.

I've been wondering if the memory of what happened between us wasn't altered for some reason, questioning if I could really have reacted so strongly to the proper little Miss Kensington. But as we kiss and devour each other in the middle of the back room of The Devil's Court, I realize that no, I didn't imagine this intense attraction or the magnitude of the sparks she ignites. In fact, those memories might have been dulled because I don't remember ever feeling this entranced by anyone before.

When my thigh presses harder on that heated space between her legs, she lets out a delicious moan that goes straight to my balls. It seems I'm not the only one who forgot we're not alone, an easy feat, given how isolated we feel under my hood.

"Red, slow down."

"I want you," she breathes out.

"I want you too. Do you—How do you want tonight to go?"

"Maybe we could start working on my list," she suggests, her pupils three times their size, her arousal unmistakable.

"Order, and I shall obey, love."

"How about sex in a public place?"

I chuckle, appreciative of her enthusiasm. "Should I throw everyone out and fuck you on that pool table, after all?"

She shakes her head, her lush hair dancing with the gesture. "Don't you have a more isolated place in mind?"

I do. In fact, I have the perfect place for this. But before that, I need more of her. She's feeling the same way because she pulls me down at the exact moment I lower to reclaim her lips.