Without warning, Bennett pulls down on my thighs and I can’t stop my hips from rocking in response.
Holy fucking shit, I’ve never been so wholly devoured in my life. The way Bennett’s mouth, tongue, fingers, and scruff of his beard work my pussy is enough to cause black dots to spot my vision.
“Oh, fuck! I’m so sensitive, I can’t,” I pant.
Bennett lifts me just enough to growl, “You can. Now sit the fuck down and fuck my face, baby girl.”
Well, with a demand like that . . . I hold on to the hotel headboard with one hand and grasp a hold of his brown hair in the other.
I’m thrust out of my trip down memory lane when Bennett says in an icy tone, “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Carlisle.”
Fuck my actual life. This should be interesting . . .
2
August
Standing before me is a surprise I didn’t see coming. Though I’m not sure why I’m so stunned, she is the owner’s granddaughter, after all.
Scarlett Carlisle.
In place of the cute college student I met all those years ago, is a put-together woman in a white blouse, charcoal pencil skirt, and stilettos. Her once long and curly tresses have now been slicked back into a tight ponytail, though I’m glad to see she hasn’t cut the locks I have longed to wrap around my fist once more.
Snap the fuck out of it, man.
I let go of her hand, but I didn’t miss the way her features went from confused, to shocked, to furious within a matter of seconds.
She should’ve been a drama major with the way she’s able to make me feel like a fool even all these years later.
“Captain?” she questions as she smooths her skirt.
“Yes, this will be his eighth season wearing the C on his chest,” Joseph tells her.
“And you said his name was Bennett. Bennett Wilson,” she repeats, more to herself than to her grandfather. Her brows are pinched and she’s blinking rapidly, almost as if she’s putting the pieces of the puzzle together for the first time.
Wow, someone give her an Oscar, she’s knocking this performance out of the park. I’d give her a round of applause if it wouldn’t pique Joseph’s curiosity.
She’s snapped from her role-playing of an innocent woman, when her grandfather suggests, “Why don’t you take Bennett to your office and go over the schedule changes for the preseason we discussed.”
Her jaw falls open as she stares back at her grandfather in shock.
“That won’t be necessary, we can discuss any changes here, Joseph,” I tell him, but he just shakes his head.
“No, I insist. It will be good for Scar to get a feel for interacting with the players,” he replies.
Why does she need to interact with the players? And did he suggest she take me to her office? Since when did she get an office? Is she working for the team now?
For the past six years, Scarlett Carlisle has been a ghost. Well, more so for the past five years since her father tragically passed away. I sought her out at his memorial that the Wolverines put together to give my condolences, but she hadn’t shown up.
Without saying a word, Scarlett nods at her grandfather, grabs her laptop, and heads out the conference room door down the hallway that I assume leads to her new office.
I quickly say goodbye to Joseph before sauntering after her.
Once we’re inside her office, I quietly shut the door behind me, looking up to find her pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows as she rubs her temples with both hands.
“This can’t seriously be happening,” she murmurs to herself, still pacing and rubbing her temples.
When I clear my throat, her spine stiffens as she snaps to attention. She turns to face me, and I curse my stupid attraction to this woman when my chest squeezes in, what . . .yearning? Fuck.
