Love Won (Winning at Love book 1) Read online

  I sit back and laugh, assessing him, before leaning in again and whispering, “Funny, Keat. I think we both know she’s totally yours.”

  “Piss off and play the game, Coy.”

  “Easy, Tiger,” I bark out with a laugh, “or do you go by something else?” Even though I know he’s getting pissed, it makes him laugh anyway.

  “Whatever, man. You know we’re just friends.”

  “Yeah, I used to say that about your sister…” I smirk.

  Our team spends the next thirty minutes answering the questions, and when the next break comes Keaton bolts out of his chair like he’s been electrocuted, suddenly needing to run out and make an important phone call.

  I type a quick message to Eastlyn, needing her to know she’s on my mind.

  Me: I hate waking up to thoughts of you and finding an empty space beside me. Nothing compares to having you physically there with me. I miss you in my bed.

  17

  Not Just a Spring Fling

  “You’re stunning. And stop fidgeting,” I wink. “It’s going to be fun. I’ve even gone ahead and filled up my dance card with only your name.”

  Her nose scrunches in the cutest way, like it does every time she thinks I’m being ridiculous (or a jerk). “That’s so old school. ‘Dance card’. Phsst.”

  Tonight, Ms. Eastlyn Hatfield and I are attending a fundraiser for the Guelph General Hospital. Her grandfather was Chief of Surgery here, so it’s a fundraiser the family attends every year.

  And tonight will also be the first time Eastlyn and I will attend an event as an actual couple in front of her parents and friends. I think that fact is making my Sprinkles a bit nervous. Obviously, her parents have known we’ve been together for months, but tonight it’s official, as I’ve told her that if I want my hands on her or to kiss her, I no longer care who sees.

  Being a couple certainly presents limitations at work. There are policies around principals and teachers dating, so we’ve had to make concessions, one of them being attempts to keep our distance when at school. Tonight, though, we won’t be under a microscope, nor will I need to toe the line where my feelings about Eastlyn are concerned. We’ve had a few near misses with Bev and Mrs. Robichaud, the French teacher, almost catching us in an embrace in the parking lot, but thankfully they both seem to have turned the other cheek. We realize not everyone will be so open-minded, however, so we’ve been discussing the future and the possibility of one of us transferring to another school. But those are thoughts for another day—tonight is about raising money for the hospital, and getting to hang out with the people we love most.

  “Should I wear the black tulle skirt and my shimmery pink tank top instead? I think it’ll look fancier,” Eastlyn says, pulling off the long red dress she had on, leaving her in a rose-coloured lace demi bra and matching thong.

  I’m up and off the bed and standing behind her in a flash, my hands on her hips, my raging hard-on more than evident as I brush up against her, leaning my head down to talk low into her ear. “Want to know what I think?”

  “What?” Her gaze meets mine in the mirror, goosebumps spreading over her skin in reaction to the scruff on my jaw tickling her as I continue to speak.

  “I think you need to come, then decide.” I slip my hand down to rest outside the front of her panties, my thumb rubbing her soothingly. “Jesus, Sprinkles,” I huff, feeling how wet she is. “How long have you been wet like this for me?” I ask, leaning away just far enough to let her know I expect an answer.

  “Years.” She expels a deep breath. “So many years, Coy,” she admits, lolling her head back to rest it upon my chest, a small smile touching the corners of her glossy lips. Hearing her admission makes me feel like a goddamn superhero. I slowly strum my hand a few more times on the outside of her panties, feeling her getting even wetter, if that’s possible. Letting out a guttural moan, I fucking lose it.

  “Do you know how happy you make me?” I slip my hand inside the tiny scrap of material, gliding a finger up and down her soft lips, her excitement coating my fingers, her quickened breaths spurring me on. I tuck one, then two, fingers inside her pussy, and wrap my free hand around her stomach, pulling her as close to my chest as I can get her. Meeting her eyes in the mirror, they meld with and hold my own. “See how sexy you are, baby. Can you hear how good we are together?” I pump my fingers in and out, eliciting an almost-squelching sound because she’s so soaked.

  “God, yes, don’t stop, please,” she cries, moving her hands up to the mirror to brace herself as she rides my fingers.

  “Fuck, you’re sweet. I need to be inside you, East,” I tell her, sucking my fingers, tasting the sweetness of this amazing woman.

  “Yes. I want you,” she says, jutting her ass out and back towards me, slipping her thong down. It lands at her feet as I push my black dress slacks down, my dick springing free.

  “You make me so fucking hard.” I run my hard length between her ass cheeks and down along her pussy, loving the way her slickness transfers, covering my cock, before sliding myself along her from root-to-tip again. Then I tease her by running the head over her tight asshole. “Soon, I’ll take you here.” I kiss her shoulder as she bends over, leaning forward for me, anxiously waiting for my cock to fill her up.

  “Please, Coy. Just take me.” She moves her body, needing me as much as I need her.

  And so I do.

  I give us what we both need—the connection we crave from only each other.

  *

  “Coy, what are you doing?” Eastlyn admonishes, as she looks around us then back down to where my head is practically up inside the tulle of her short skirt.

  “What? I needed to tie my shoe.” I shrug innocently.

  “That’s like the sixth time,” she giggles. “Maybe we need to get you Velcro ones.” She cocks her hip to the side, a knowing glint in her eyes.

  “Or maybe my girlfriend should have put her panties back on. Your pussy really does have the power to bring me to my knees,” I quip, righting myself.

  “Oh Lord, what am I going to do with you? My parents are here,” she teases, pulling me in by my lapels and crashing her lips into mine.

  “I’ve got a few suggestions, if you’re looking.” I grip her waist, and see her eyes dilating, feeling my erection. The one she’s responsible for, again. Eastlyn and I re-enter the ballroom from the small hallway we’d gone down so we could look at the silent auction items. Lucky for me—and my viewing pleasure—no one else had been in there just then.

  “Hey, you two we’ve been looking for you,” Katie Hatfield says, approaching with David in tow, each carrying two glasses of champagne.

  “Mom, Dad. Hi.” Eastlyn greets them both with a swift kiss before they hand us the glasses of champagne.

  “You both look lovely,” Katie adds.

  “Thanks, Mom. You and Dad look pretty sharp yourselves. Where are Keaton and Kami?” Eastlyn asks, looking past her parents.

  “Who knows?” David says, clasping my shoulder. “Good to see you, son.” I tell him the same before we start to shoot the shit.

  “Last time I saw those two, they were heading out to the terrace. I really think something is going on between them,” Katie says ruefully, “and we all know how I have a knack for these things.” She looks at the two of us, eliciting a laugh from David.

  “You definitely have a knack for prying, that’s for sure,” he jokes, pulling her in and kissing the side of her head.

  “I just want my kids to be happy,” she replies, looking at me, and I nod, returning the sentiment. “How about we hit the dance floor? I’ve been bugging your dad to swing me around the floor a time or two before dinner since we got here,” she laughs, sounding so much like her daughter.

  “We’d love to,” Eastlyn says, kissing my cheek before turning on her heel, slipping her arm into her mother’s, and leaving me to walk with her dad. She and her mom guide us towards the large dance floor.

  David eyes me and asks, “Have I taught you
nothing?” A loving gleam is in his eye as we trail behind our girls, sipping our drinks.

  “I know, I know,” I say. “But they love it.”

  “They do.” He pauses, shaking his head. “Still. Always stall at the fast songs, son.” He shakes his head and I laugh, my eyes following his to where the ladies are now dancing like complete loons to Usher’s “Caught Up”.

  Katie jerks around like an electrocuted grasshopper as Eastlyn moves around her in circles, thumbs up and out, her two left feet doing what I equate as the Chunk’s “Truffle Shuffle” from The Goonies. It’s so bad, yet I can’t take my eyes off her, nor can I hide how happy she makes me, my shoulders shaking in unrestrained laughter. Catching my eye, Eastlyn blows me a kiss. She shimmies her shoulders and twirls, teasing me, knowing that since she isn’t wearing any panties, the move makes her skirt rise up to dangerous levels, yet that doesn’t stop her as she keeps spinning and moving awkwardly, nowhere in time with the music’s beat.

  Fuck, I love her. I feel my solar plexus tighten with the realization that over on the dance floor—having the time of her life, laughing and carrying on with her mother—is my past, present, and future.

  And it’s the best feeling I’ve ever known.

  “Think I could pay the DJ off?” David leans in and says, a smile matching my own splayed over his lips. “See if he’d be willing to stick to playing only slow songs?” I nod, unable to look away. Eastlyn’s the most beautiful train wreck I’ve ever seen. Unable to keep away from her a moment longer, I go over to dance with what’s mine.

  Walking up, I slip my arm around her waist, bringing her in close to my chest.

  “What are you doing?” she asks breathily.

  “I needed to tell you something.” I look into her happy eyes.

  “Am I embarrassing you?” she asks, looking around, so caught up with having fun with her mom that she didn’t notice how many other people were out on the dance floor.

  “Nothing—and I mean nothing—you could ever do would embarrass me.” I run my nose along hers and as the song changes to a slow, acoustic version of Coldplay’s “Yellow”, I smile. I trail my mouth along her cheek to her ear, thinking how there isn’t a better song to be playing right now as I whisper, telling her for the first time, “I’m so deeply in love with you.”

  And with her reply of, “I love you, too. I always have…” spoken over my lips in return, I feel complete. I hold her close while we sway to the song that has always held so much meaning since so long ago when I’d asked her to dance to it at our year end celebration in the school gym.

  I’m pretty sure it’s me who spends the rest of the night looking like the loon, because I simply cannot contain the impulse to smile from ear-to-ear as I mill around the dance floor with my beautiful future in my arms.

  My future. Who loves me right back.

  18

  The Last Laugh

  “Well, isn’t this interesting,” a whiny voice says from the middle of the cereal aisle in Weller’s grocery store.

  My hand drops from where it’s been resting comfortably on one cheek of Eastlyn’s perfect ass, and she comes to a sudden stop.

  Neil Fucking Foley.

  We’d been filling our buggy with groceries for the past twenty minutes like any other couple living in domestic bliss. We both knew that PDAs—Public Displays of Affection—were risky given our circumstance at work, but with the upcoming changes ahead and most of our colleagues now well aware of our relationship, we’ve been a bit more lax over the last month about touching in public.

  “Funny,” Foley says, and cocks his head. “I wondered that day back at the laundromat. And I was pretty certain about it at our last little meeting.” He pauses, running his eyes blatantly down Eastlyn’s body, and shaking his head.

  “Eyes over here, asswipe. I warned you before.” I take a step forward.

  “See?” he snickers. “Now I know the issue wasn’t me. The issue is that you’re the one fucking little Miss Hatfield.”

  “That’s enough, Mr. Foley,” Eastlyn says, getting defensive. “Whatever you seem to think you know has no bearing on my teaching, nor is it any of your business.”

  “Maybe so.” The bastard flits his gaze between us. “But I’m sure there’s got to be some kind of policy against a teacher and her boss screwing, though, right? Talk about abuse of power and favouritism. And I ended up getting the boot for no reason. Wonder what they’d think of this over at the school board?” He runs his hand over his chin in thought.

  “It’s not like th—” Eastlyn starts to explain, but I pull her in close to my side, the motion effectively cutting her off. There’s no reason we need to justify anything to this sleaze. Looking up at me, Eastlyn smiles before snaking her arm around my waist, showing we are indeed a united front. But it’s absolutely me anchoring myself to her for restraint, as I’m about a thread’s pull away from taking this asshole down like an MMA fighter hungry for the win, for the shit he’s trying to imply.

  “Go ahead and call,” I smirk, having grounded myself on Eastlyn. “I think you’ll be surprised with what you find out,” I say, bending my head down and kissing Eastlyn on the top of her head.

  “I don’t need your permission to call them, asshole. You should be begging me, right now. Begging me to keep this from getting out,” he says, and I break. I laugh out loud. I can’t keep it in any longer.

  “Mr. Foley, trust me, there’s nothing your call will do. We’re aware of our protocols, and we’ve done what we need to so maggots like you can’t get the pathetic leg up you think you’ll get by running your jealous mouth off. So call if you like, but know we’re always professional,” I placate, giving Eastlyn’s ass another squeeze (knowing that’s bit of a stretch), “and if you wait for it, you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about next week in the year-end newsletter.” Where I will be announcing the changes for next year. Eastlyn’s departure being one of them.

  Knowing our relationship could present its own set of issues professionally if we stayed working together in the same school, Eastlyn decided she wanted to apply for a consulting job in our board’s IT department that had just become available in the postings. A job where she would get to test and research new technology for classrooms across the entire school district, as well as work with other teachers to help them to become more familiar with the array of apps, devices, and programs available for use in the classroom to enhance learning. It’s a job she’s excited for, and one I know she’ll kick ass at come September. She found out officially that she got the job on Friday afternoon.

  “Have a great Sunday, Mr. Foley,” Eastlyn says, indicating that we are done with this man—and this conversation—once and for all. He turns and marches away, pushing his cart, with slumped shoulders.

  “Good thing I ended up getting that job, eh?” she laughs, as we head arm-in-arm to grab the last thing on our list, frozen açaí berries. That shit is addictive, and now I can’t get enough of those bowl things she makes. The way I can’t get enough of her.

  19

  The Power of the Whirlwind

  Walking into Eastlyn’s kitchen, I stop, seeing one of my favourite sights on this earth. Eastlyn is standing at the counter, mixing bowls scattered around her, a spatula in her hand. Only this time, she’s wearing my blue button-down shirt—the one I wore to work yesterday—and what I’m hoping is nothing else.

  “I leave you for a minute and chaos ensues,” I say, standing beside her, taking in one of Katie’s cake creations. A mop. I can’t hide my laughter.

  “Hey, you smell yummy,” she says, placing the spatula down, turning to face me and pull me down towards her. She sniffs, then kisses me softly.

  “I really need to remember to bring over some of my own soap,” I grin, knowing I smell as sweet as she does, having had to use her girlie soap again this morning.

  “You just missed my mom,” Eastlyn shares, picking up the spatula again. She’s busy frosting the cake with her sprinkle-filled concocti
on, the cake she’d asked her mom to make for Mr. Whittaker’s retirement party tonight.

  “I hope you told her hello from me. And I hope you both realize Rose isn’t going to be very happy at all with you bringing Hank this huge-ass cake tonight,” I warn, laughing at how much the man sings my girl’s and her mother’s cake praises despite his wife’s constant complaints about his diabetes.

  “Nah, I asked Mom to use sweetener instead of regular sugar, so the only real issue is the Whirlwind itself, but I won’t tell if you don’t,” she says, winking, and I laugh at how cute she is.

  “Baby, isn’t that kind of counterproductive?” I tap her nose, taking in her face as she contemplates my words. That’s when I see the huge glob of frosting resting on the front of my shirt, and an idea hits. The best thing about sploshing, I’ve come to learn over the last few months, is how fucking yummy anything tastes when you’re eating it off the woman you love.

  “Looks like you’ve got a bit of a mess happening here,” I say, my eyes honing in on her chest where the delectable glob of white frosting with colourful specks is resting above one succulently heavy breast. One I can tell from being under my scrutiny isn’t covered by a bra.

  “Oh, crap. I didn’t even notice.” She moves to clean it and I stop her, taking her hand in mine.

  “No. Leave it for now. Unbutton your shirt, Sprinkles,” I tell her, my voice gravelly and determined. She nods, and does what I ask. Moving my hand up, I part the blue material over her left breast, licking my bottom lip. Her perfect pink nipple hardens under my stare and the air as it kisses her gorgeous skin. “So perfect.” I roll the extended nub between my thumb and forefinger. Eastlyn’s head lolls back with my touch. “Always so responsive, always so sexy.” I lean in, running my tongue over her heavy breast.

  “Shit, your mouth feels good,” she pants, looking down at me where my mouth is now wrapped around her nipple, sucking it and nibbling it with my teeth. She hisses, and I release her with a pop.