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I dragged my hand down my face as I sat at my desk, staring in stunned disbelief. The office of Thorn Sports was in chaos today, and hell week was still in full swing.
Of course, I had everything managed.
The morning had started with a long-scouted prospect being lured by a rival agency, so I video called him to discuss contract details while a colleague flew to Texas to sign him in person.
Then I had a six-time All-Star threaten to retire unless he got a trade to New York, so now I was on the horn with the Empires’ front office, discussing all possible scenarios and seamlessly pushing back on any of their doubts about my client.
The only thing I wasn’t fully prepared for was what I was currently staring at on my phone: the latest selfie that Holland had sent me.
She’d sent a couple a day since Monday, each one somehow better than the last. And now this one continued the pattern, because for fuck’s sake, she’d somehow taken her own upskirt while wearing a floral sundress in the conference room of her office.
For the love of God, Holland, I wanted to curse at her as I adjusted my cock under my desk.
Judging from the angle, she’d set her phone down on her chair, because it looked like she was just getting up from her seat, and from this gloriously torturous backside view, I could see everything from her blonde hair hanging between her bare shoulder blades to her hands perched on the curve of her back as she arched her tight little body, angling herself perfectly to show her skirt fluttering airily around the toned backs of her thighs, her perky, round ass and that naked pussy that looked so pink and pretty all I could think about was kissing it. Parting her with my tongue and tasting her juices.
Within seconds of looking at the photo I was hard. And crazy.
Though it didn’t hinder my call since thankfully, I’d long mastered the skill of faking normal.
“Look, Craig, you said yourself you’ve had your eye on Perez, and I understand you’re hesitant about trading for him when he’s got just a year left on his contract, but I’ve got your payroll in front of me right now,” I said, still staring at Holland’s upskirt and saving it to my phone as another one of her texts came in. “It says you’re not going to be able to afford him once he hits the open market next year, and now that Watt’s down, you need a lefty reliever STAT,” I pointed out, my voice easy despite my jaw ticking tighter as I read her latest text.
HOLLAND: Want the view from the front?
She didn’t wait for my reply before she sent it, launching me into full fucking animal mode just as I was finishing my case.
“So unless you want to get killed by Houston’s lefty bats again this postseason, trading for Perez is your best bet,” I said, sounding terser than I meant to, but I couldn’t help it thanks to Holland’s latest picture—a bathroom selfie with the skirt of her dress pulled up to flash her fully bare, apparently freshly waxed pussy that looked so soft, so smooth and goddamned perfect I had to mutter “Christ” against my fist as Craig begrudgingly conceded to my point.
Which was very much a good thing, and I made sure to express that I was pleased to hear his change of heart.
But I couldn’t quite celebrate by the time I hung up, because I was in the middle of torture so brutal I was already looking at my schedule for the day and deciding which meetings were going to be nixed so I could see Holland before our scheduled meet time of 7PM.
But just as I decided on which of my meetings were getting moved, Erica stuck her head in, and before she even said a word, my jaw clenched.
“What?” I said, though I already knew because I’d already gotten this awkward, apologetic look from her several times over the past few days, and it was always for the same topic.
“She called twice while you were on the phone,” Erica said quickly. “Said you can’t keep ignoring her calls and to check your texts.”
I gritted my teeth, holding my dead stare on Erica for another few moments before grabbing hold of my phone and looking at what I knew had been there all day.
But had been avoiding for good reason.
CAMILA: I really can’t go another week without seeing you.
CAMILA: I need you here tonight
24
HOLLAND
I frowned, looking up from my computer as Freya strolled over to my desk and set on its corner a signature Minx shopping bag—powder blue with the pearly white lettering that had had my heart since I was fourteen.
I cocked my head. “What’s this?” I asked.
“A gift. Heard someone got their first Brazilian wax on Monday and I figured it was the most appropriate way of saying congrats and enjoy,” she said, tossing me a wink before strutting off.
I laughed, peeking into the bag to see the silkiest satin and lace. Barely any of it, but that was the point.
“Thank you,” I called over my shoulder to Freya, all smiles, because it was just one of those good days.
