Devoted Love: A BWWM Romance (Blazin' Love Book 7) Read online

  I park in my designated spot and grab my coffee and messenger bag off the backseat. I toss the strap across my body and head into Platinum Prestige Headquarters. Last year we bought this building. Land in the downtown area was hard to find, and Hunter wanted our office centrally located.

  Buying the entire building has proven to be a sound investment for the corporation. I wave at the front desk guard and catch the elevator up to my office on the fourth floor. I drop my stuff and hop back on the elevator heading to the top level.

  All of the guys have offices on the fifth floor to handle our duties for Platinum Prestige. It’s like a daily slumber party, except we have to wear clothes.

  “They’re waiting for you,” the office administrative assistant says the moment I step out of the elevator.

  "For me? Why?" I glance at my watch, and I'm early. I enter the conference room, and everyone is sitting around the table. "What's going on?"

  "You, Miss Thang!" Charlee smiles.

  “So…” Ryann sings as I drop in the empty chair beside her.

  “It worked!!!” I squeal, and my guys jump up dancing with me.

  "How'd you handle the heels?" Taylor asks breathlessly.

  “I was good until I fell.”

  A collective gasp spreads across the room as they sit to hear the story.

  “We talked and kissed and…”

  “Ahhhh, shyte…she let the freak out.” The happy dancing starts again until we burst into a fit of laughter.

  "Y'all I wasn't nervous or stuttering." I exhale. "Well, not as much as before."

  “So, how did you fall?” Taylor asks.

  "We were kissing, and I thought I heard someone calling his name. He turned around, and I see a woman standing there."

  “He had a date?” Charlee leans forward.

  "He said it was his assistant," Harper adds.

  “Sarah?" Ryann asks, facing me.

  I nod.

  "Watch that one. She's cool, but I always sensed a crush." Ryann folds over, and I reach for her. "I'm okay, just a little nauseous."

  "Do you want me to call X?" Taylor asks, sitting beside her.

  “No,” she wipes her nose and stares around the room. “I’m just pregnant.”

  We all sit in shock. The look on her face makes it hard to tell whether she’s happy.

  “Can we dance?” Charlee asks.

  “Yes.” Ryann laughs with her head resting on the table.

  We stand to dance when Chase whispers, “So am I?”

  “What?!”

  Chase smooths the fabric around her stomach, and I see a little bump. I reach for it, and she nods. I rub her belly.

  "Please let me plan the baby shower," I beg.

  "No, creepy-crawly stuff," Charlee warns.

  “I know how to throw a party. I’m about to become an aunt four more times.” Parker is due within the next month. Charlee has a few more months. And I’d guess that Ryann and Chase will give birth around the same time. “I’m so happy for you guys. What did X say?”

  “He doesn’t know.” Ryann shrugs. “I know he’ll be a great father. I just wanted to wait a little while until things slowed down.”

  “I don’t imagine that happening anytime soon,” I counter. Brand X is booming. Ryann manages to handle her role there and with us. It will be interesting to see how this baby changes her life.

  “Yeah, but he’s only twenty-five. I guess I don’t want him to feel rushed.”

  "Tell him," I whisper, reaching for her hand.

  “I will. And do you guys mind if we add Tia to the baby shower?” Ryann asks.

  "The more, the merrier," I proclaim as everyone takes their seats.

  "And you, Chase?" All eyes turn in her direction. I didn't know she was dating. "A one-night stand.”

  “Do we need to hunt him down?” Charlee asks.

  “Who are you going to hunt down with all that belly?” Ryann asks with a hand on her hip.

  “Don’t sleep on my skills. This baby ain’t stopping nothing,” Charlee snaps.

  "No, I don't need your skills, and no, I'm not telling him," Chase says with finality.

  “We’re here for you.” I pull her into a hug as a concerned glance passes between us. I got her, I mouth to the others.

  Hunter throws her thumb up and sits in her chair. "All right, guys, we have contracts to discuss."

  For the next hour, we review existing contracts before Hunter opens the floor for new business.

  “Guys, we have two interesting requests. The first is for a set of custom motorcycles. It’s a retired couple wanting to travel. They’ve asked us to oversee the entire process. Payton? You’re up.” Hunter passes a file to Payton.

  Payton takes the folder and flips through the pages before Hunter continues. “And Alex…we were contacted by a Mister…”—she opens the file—“Mateo Rodriquez concerning importing supplies from Mexico and China.” She tosses the file to Payton. “Oh, and he asked for you by name.”

  The tight set of Payton’s jaw says there’s a story.

  "That's all I got," Hunter says.

  “I have one.” I sit forward. “Ryker wants to commission us for two projects.”

  “Will you need support from Taylor?” Hunter asks.

  "I might. I'll know the specifics later tonight. I'll keep you posted." Taylor builds databases, and we frequently pair up to complete tech projects.

  “Great.” Hunter stands. "That's it, guys. Don't forget to connect with Jordan about the baby shower. Should I talk with Ben about the room at S&J?"

  “I’m not sure. Wait until I get some dates.” I stand ready to get to my computer.

  “Bet. Guys, great meeting. Happy Hour at S&J tonight to celebrate?”

  "Yes!" And with that, this meeting is officially complete.

  Chapter 6

  “Sign here.” The security guard checks my identification card. I scribble my initials looking around the empty lobby. “Go up to the eleventh floor. There’s a receptionist bay right in front of the elevators.”

  I nod and follow his directions. I prefer not taking these types of meetings. The perk of working with Platinum Prestige is Hunter and Ben work out the details. The moment I cross paths with the client, it's based on the merit of my work.

  I glance down at my clothes—a blazer, halter top, jeans, and a fedora hat. My hair is pulled to the side, I play with the ends until the bell chimes.

  The doors open and the receptionist raises an eyebrow. The silver letters behind her spell out Colin, Baker & Garrett. Ryker is the Colin in this law firm. That hits me, and I glance down at my ripped jeans and combat boots.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes…uh…I’m here for a meeting…with Ryker Colin.” I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

  “Is Mr. Colin expecting you?" Her nasal tone grinds my nerves.

  “Yes, I’m Jordan Cole with Platinum Prestige.”

  “Please have a seat.”

  I walk to the cream chairs off to the waiting area. My surroundings look untouchable, and traditionally elegant. I remain standing and pace across the small area.

  "You're the best, Jordan. You can handle this meeting. No stuttering or freaking out," I whisper to myself, walking the length of the carpeted space. I stop, noticing a set of plaques on the wall. Ryker’s name appears on most of them.

  “Miss Cole.”

  “Jordan is fine.” I turn recognizing the face. I extend my hand. “Jordan Cole.”

  “Sarah Frank.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Her grunt is rude.

  "The meeting is this way." She starts off, not bothering to look at me.

  I twist my bag strap. I take each step remembering the guys pull their weight, and I will too. So, I'll ignore Sarah's behavior. Then she shows me to a conference room and leaves without another word.

  I send a group text to the guys, For the record, I hate doing these meetings.

  Imagine everyone in their underwear, Chase suggests.


  The laughing emojis from them cause my phone to chime back-to-back. I turn off my sound and laugh.

  Whoever made that suggestion has NEVER sat in a meeting with old used car salesmen, Payton adds. I shake my head at the imagery.

  That’s not relaxing, I add.

  Exactly, Payton responds.

  Old balls and dad bellies help you relax Chase? Charlee responds.

  Ugh. What is wrong with you guys? Old balls? Alex adds a shocked emoji.

  I can't contain my laughter. I laugh until I cry. I'm drying my eyes when the door swings open. I jump to my feet, brushing the tears from my eyes.

  “How long have you been waiting?”

  “Not long.” I pass an approving eye over Ryker. He’s wearing a dark blue suit and a pink tie. I’m not sure how to greet him. “Am I early?”

  “You’re fine." He crosses the room, slipping his warm hands beneath my blazer and across my bare skin. His head drops until his lips cover mine.

  I lean in moaning when he slips me a little tongue. “Here?”

  “Yes, Jordan.”

  “How was your day?” I notice the slight bags under his beautiful eyes.

  “Intense. But seeing you makes it better. Grab your stuff.”

  I cross my arms, shaking my head. Will he always make me feel like a teen crushing on the cool kid?

  “What?”

  "Nothing. I'm ready." I drop my strap across my body, and he takes my hand. We enter a large corner office. He reaches from my bag, and I shrug out of it.

  Ryker offers a chair. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

  “Yes, it’s new.”

  “Should I stop?” He plays with the brim of my hat.

  “No, I like having you close.” I glance away, I can’t stop smiling. “Now, stop flirting, I’m already nervous.”

  “There’s no reason to be nervous. You got the job.” He pats my butt and kisses me before rounding his desk.

  Ryker presses a button on his phone. “I’m ready.”

  I scribble notes across my iPad. The names of the people in the room, their titles, and their functions.

  Ryker sits behind his desk with the look of a true boss. He asks questions of each person. He corrects when figures are wrong. He challenges the timeline injecting a hefty dose of reality to smitten Erik.

  I duck my head, hiding my smile. My bet is that Brooke is Erik's lady love, and he’s whipped, as Charlee says. Ryker clears his throat, and we make eye contact.

  Focus, he mouths.

  I am, I counter. Then I notice the color drain from his face. Ryker’s head drops forward into his hands. Instinct places me on my feet.

  “Ryker…” I hunker down beside his chair.

  “I’m fine, princess." He taps on the end of my nose. "That's enough for the night. Sarah, write a summary, including the action items. Erik, we need the finalized timeline yesterday." His eyes roll.

  "Goodnight, everyone." I cut off the conversations keeping an eye on Ryker. "Give us a second, please."

  Sarah waits, then she slips out of the room.

  "What's wrong, baby?"

  “Look in the bottom drawer and get my insulin.”

  "Insulin. Bottom drawer." I yank the drawer open, keeping an eye on him. "I'd feel better if you laid on the couch."

  The shake of his head is weak.

  “Please.”

  "Call me baby again, and I'll think about it."

  “Ryker, baby, stop flirting.”

  I open the case. I set the insulin pen and a cartridge on the desk. I look around for a place to wash my hands before returning to him. Memories of my grandmother flood my mind, but I focus on Ryker. I bear the weight of his body before lowering him to the couch.

  We move like we’ve done this before, and now his head is resting in my lap.

  “When did you start going gray?” I need to keep him awake.

  “My early twenties.”

  I laugh, and his eyes bounce open before closing again. "How do you feel?"

  He sits up and kisses me. “Better. Thank you, Jordan.”

  "You're welcome." The gray tone is gone. "Does this happen often?"

  “No, not when I regulate my eating, my rest, and my exercise.” He reaches over and removes my hat. “How did you know what to do?”

  “My grandmother.”

  “Tell me about the woman that makes you smile like that.”

  “My Nana was my best friend until I met the guys.” He removes my blazer and drops it on the coffee table. “We’d cook and read. She loved Monopoly and dominoes.”

  “What about siblings?”

  “Three—two brothers and a sister. They don’t live here anymore. What about you?”

  "My parents didn't want children, and according to my father, I was a drunken mistake."

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I attended the best boarding schools, colleges, and now I’m a functional member of society.” His words reek of bitterness.

  Ryker slips my top over my head. “Baby, what are you doing?”

  “I just want to feel alive.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  "Then, don't say no." His bright blue eyes plead with me, and I can't say no.

  I nod and walk over to lock the door before returning to the couch. I stop in front of him, lowering my jeans and removing my bra.

  I reach in my bag and find my cellphone. I use our services to order dinner, and once I get the delivery time, I drop my phone inside and pull out a condom.

  “Look at you.” His eyes are mad with lust. “Come wrap those sexy legs around me.”

  I guide him inside of me, cradling his face in my hands. He fills me, and I ride him moaning while his tongue plays with my piercing. Time slips by us.

  I tilt his head back. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

  “Now?”

  I squeeze his thickness.

  “Fuck…” He thrusts, sweat running down his hairline, and I swallow his growls.

  I struggle to breathe and control my racing heart. Will it always feel like an urgent need that only he can satisfy?

  “Did you have to scream the building down?” I laugh.

  “I almost had a heart attack.” He falls back with a hand over his heart.

  “Don’t play like that!”

  “I’m sorry, princess.”

  "I need to get dressed, and you need to eat."

  “It’s time for round two already.” He licks his lips.

  "Food, man!"

  Chapter 7

  I'm managing my time by the minute. Erik is pushing forward, and it's been a couple of months of working days at the firm and nights at the campaign office. Tonight, everyone's pulling a late night.

  The primary agenda items are finalizing the branding, fundraising, and our digital platforms. While half of the team work on the branding, I walk over to the table. Erik is zoned out.

  “Man, you don’t have all night. We need this logo finalized and out to the printer tomorrow.”

  “It all looks the same to me.” Erik scrubs a hand over his face.

  I sit next to him. The color schemes are close but different enough to send mixed messages. "I advise you to let Mark and Harold narrow it down to two. Then we'll pick from them."

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Harold is another friend from law school. He steps in to help, and I take Erik to the side.

  "What's the status of your speech for the fundraiser and the list of fifty people?" I ask, guiding him to another table.

  “I’m on it.” He sits off to the side to complete his task.

  I notice the flow chart on the wipe board. Jordan is an unofficial member of the staff since we've contracted her originally for the app. But it worked out that Platinum Prestige is handling all of our major technical requirements to fuel this campaign—the website, the app, the contact database, and establishing our social media channels.

  Jordan stands at the board with Taylor.
I sit on the edge of the table keeping my ears on the conversations around the room but my eyes on her.

  We are going strong. Our greatest challenge is time. I'm stretched in two places at once, and she'll fly out tomorrow to start a new gig.

  “I can’t say I pegged her as your type.” Erik sits next to me. “She’s the total opposite of Krystal, she hardly speaks, and the age difference. A woman her age isn’t ready for the things we’re looking for.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “To get married—”

  “Done that.”

  “To have kids.”

  "You're stuck on the surface, Erik. When you take the time to get to know Jordan, you'll see she's exactly my type. Our relationship is based on us, not other people, not bank accounts, not being seen. She's intelligent and beautiful and fucking hot."

  “Can I please get the PG-13 version?”

  I laugh. “We don’t need a shitload of words to explain why we work, we just do.”

  “Would you get married again?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead. But to her? Hell, yes.”

  “She’d get you to walk down the aisle again. She has it like that?”

  "Yeah, man, she has me like that."

  I never told Erik the details about the incident with my glucose levels. The way Jordan jumped into action. I have people around me—employees, partners, clients. However, I've never had someone in tune with my wants and my needs. Not even my own parents since I spent more time in boarding schools than at home.

  Jordan is more than her appearance, which I've learned is a ploy. The all-black attire keeps people at an arms distance, but it's their loss.

  “How’s Sarah taking it?” He passes me the draft of his speech.

  “What’s there to take?” I skim over it. “I’d suggest narrowing down your campaign focus statements to three or less. We want them in a giving mood, not weighed down.”

  He nods. “That woman’s been waiting in the wings since your divorce.”

  “Sarah?”

  “Yes, Sarah. Look at her.”

  I look across the room, and she's staring at Jordan.

  "What's that bitch got that I don't got?”

  “Is that supposed to be her?” I snicker. “I need you to keep your day job.”