Page 25 of Dirty Player
Surprise ignited my senses when she smiled. “Okay. Deal. One month.”
I turned to unlock the door. “Let’s go tell Beaux we’re leaving then.”
“Oh no, no, no, no.” She pressed her hand against the door, her eyes frantic. “There’s no way I’m going back out there. Not after this…thing.” She waved her hand between us, and I smiled.
“This…thing?”
“Yes.” She gasped and tugged at her hair.
I was quickly learning that playing with her hair was her nervous habit.
“They’ll all know. All of them. The team…the women. Oh my God!” Her eyes flashed wide and feral. “They’ll think I’m what you think I am!” Panic struck her then and her palm went to her chest. “That’s what they’ll think of me. That I’m just some gold-digging slut, someone who spreads her legs—”
“Enough.” I pulled her toward me without thought and slammed my lips over hers. It was bad enough when I heard myself say the words, a thousand times sharper when she repeated them. She leaned into the kiss, surrendering and submitting like I wanted her to. Perfect.
I pulled away. “No one will say shit, and if they do, I’ll fucking handle it.”
“You don’t know what the women are like. How catty and vicious. Jesus, I’ve seen it before, heard it before, but now what they’re saying is true.”
“And none of their fucking business. Whatever girlfriend down there says shit, it says more about them than you or us. We know what we’re doing and that’s all that matters.”
“Do we?”
No. I had no fucking clue what we’d just agreed to.
“Yes. We’re giving each other what we need, no secrets, no hidden motives. Who cares about them?”
I sure as hell didn’t.
Before she could panic again, I threw the bathroom door open and pulled her out of it. “Go downstairs and out the front door. I’ll go talk to Beaux.”
“No. Just…let’s go. I’ll text him so he doesn’t worry. Tell him I’ll be home later.”
“Tomorrow morning.”
This was getting out of hand faster than I could stop it. My mouth kept speaking what my dick wanted.
“I have to be at work early,” she mumbled.
I couldn’t remember a time when I had a woman on my arm thinking more about her job than the orgasms I’d promised to deliver.
Strangely, it wasn’t a hit to my ego.
“Early tomorrow,” I agreed, unable to hide the satisfaction in my smile. “Promise.”
“Okay.” She nodded and flitted her eyes to me, questioning. “Okay then. We’re good to go, then.”
She was trying to convince herself. If I were a gentleman, had any morals or values left inside of me, I’d ask her if she was certain she wanted this. I wasn’t going to force myself on someone.
Coercing gently, though…that was another matter. Not giving her time to change her mind, I pulled her down the stairs, weaving through the maze of hallways in Kolby’s mansion and out to my car.
It took work to get my Audi A8 out from the line of cars closely parked together, and not for the first time, I rued the day I’d sold my pickup in favor of a sports car.
Look the part, play the part, be the part. It was something my old man had drilled into me since I first caught a whiff that I could be good enough for the NFL.
Old and beaten pickup trucks screamed small-town hick, not athletic superstar.
Still didn’t mean I didn’t miss it, though—especially when the urge to go off-roading and mudding took hold during the off-season months. A man, a truck, a few beers…God, sometimes I missed it when life was simpler.
