Page 17 of Dirty Player
“Hell yeah,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder. “But there’s a lot of things you are and a liar isn’t one of them. Might as well get it out of your system. Let Beaux beat the shit out of you and then we can all move on. You keep looking at her like you want to fuck her naked in front of all these people and rumors will start.”
Fuck. He was right. A football team was worse than a frat house when it came to gossip running rampant.
“I’ll get right on that then,” I muttered, setting my drink down. Last weekend’s splurge at the club where I’d seen Shannon had been the last real alcohol I’d touch until hopefully February—
After a Super Bowl win.
“Can’t you just go find another easy lay and fuck her out of your mind? Pretend she’s someone else? This has trouble written all over it.”
I’d tried that. Saturday and Wednesday.
Unfortunately I’d only pictured Shannon, and the women beneath me, their faces buried in my pillows, hadn’t helped.
I wanted to see her face—those coffee-colored eyes, her pouty lips parched and dry.
“I like your first idea better.” I slapped Rudolph on the shoulder. “You’re right. Fuck her. Get her out of my head. Move on to the next one.”
“This is going to go south real quick.”
I didn’t respond. I was already walking away. Toward the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about. The woman who was barely covered in a swimsuit cover—it was strapless, hitting just below her ass. A bright peach color that showed off her tan, and fuck…those legs.
Toned and long. Painted toenails to match the light blue suit I’d seen her in earlier when I’d first arrived and she was lying out on a lounge chair.
With every step bringing me closer to her, her grip tightened on her water bottle. She moved slowly away from the group of men she’d been talking to. Beaux glanced at me, but he was missing the scowl I had become familiar with this week.
The pink color blossoming on her cheeks held my attention. The slight quirk to her mouth. Lips that tilted up at one corner, practically daring me to do all the filthy things I wanted to.
I’d take her up on it, as soon as she let me. It’d been a while since I’d had to persuade a woman to let me do what I wanted, but I had a feeling she’d make it worth the effort.
“Come talk to me,” I said, sliding right up next to her and not giving her any doubt what I really wanted.
Her eyes flared—hesitant and surprised at my boldness. “We are talking.”
“Privately.”
I held out my hand, wanting more than anything to wrap it around her elbow and pull her toward me, pull her into a dark corner where I could slide her knee to my hip and sink into her. She was short, and in sandals. I’d find a way to make it work.
But I didn’t. I kept my hand still, palm outstretched.
The first move had to be hers. I’d take care of the rest.
Slowly, she nodded. Her whispered “Okay” was so quiet I barely heard her over the clamoring of the kids in the background.
She slid her hand into mine and that same shock of electric energy swam and slithered up my arm to my chest.
It was unnatural. Scared the hell out of me.
I gripped her tighter and pulled her to me. My hand went to her hair, pushing it back so I could lean down to whisper in her ear.
“You know everyone’s watching this right now?”
She nodded once.
“You know what’s going to happen when I get you alone?”
She cleared her throat. Her nerves were evident in the rapid blink of her eyes. “Talking.”
I drew closer to her so my lips brushed over her earlobe. “We’ll talk. And then you’ll scream.”
