Dirty Player: A Rough Riders Novel (6 page)

It was going to get him sacked and concussed before the third game.

“I don’t want her.”

The words tasted as nasty as the swig of beer I took to wash away the lie.

I wanted her. I’d thought of a thousand ways to apologize to her for being such an asshole. They all involved her naked, her thick, dark hair spread all over my white sheets. Her jaw slack while I pleasured her, over and over again.

I caught her gaze, that same hazy, wanting look from across the pool where she stood with a half-dozen players and their wives or girlfriends.

Being the prick I was, I dropped my hand to my crotch and adjusted myself where she could see I was already growing hard.

The thought of her…the mere fucking sight of her did that to me.

I hadn’t been this hard, so constantly and so easily, since I was fifteen and Serena let me touch her tits for the first time.

Next to me, Rudolph laughed. It was loud and gathered the attention of most of the people nearby. I glared at him, but still sensed Shannon’s gaze at my back.

A little prickle of interest.

I smirked at my friend. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“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.”

She didn’t pull away. I was still being an ass.

I expected a punch to my back from Beaux at any moment.

But none of it came. Instead of pulling away like she should have, her chest pressed to mine.

“Then let’s go talk.”

Chapter FIVE

SHANNON

Almost every woman at the party stared as Oliver led me through the small crowd of players and their wives and girlfriends. They glanced at us once, quickly looked away, only to surreptitiously slide their gazes back to us as we passed them.

I swallowed hard in an effort to push down the apprehension and focused on the tingling in my stomach, the way my heart jumped and pulse pounded as he guided me inside the house. His confidence and the way he seemed to not care about what anyone thought of him—along with the sexual magnetism between us—flooded my veins in preparation for what would happen next.

What he wanted was obvious. The desire and need written all over his face from the moment we made contact was clear.

That look, along with Beaux’s permission to do whatever I wanted earlier, made me want to toss my morals to the ground and stomp all over them.

I’d never had the freedom other kids had.

Now, I was free to do whatever I wanted. Live how I chose without the risk of screwing things up for anyone.

First, it was Beaux. If I was too hung over, too caught up in the arms of a stranger, I could miss getting him where he needed to be. I could miss a game or a practice or a meeting with a college recruiter. I could miss giving our mom her meds when she needed them, or running her to doctor’s appointments.

My entire life had been spent taking care of my family, and then later, making certain I wasn’t screwing up anything for Patrick or his family.

I was so, so tired of the responsibility bearing down on my shoulders, I could break at any moment.

So why not throw it all away for a quickie in a stranger’s house with a sexy man whose confident and warm touch held the promise of pleasure and wild abandon?

Oliver led me through an enormous house with more floors and windows and doors than they sold in most home improvement stores until we reached a room at the end of a hall on the top floor.

I looked at everything from the incredibly fancy decor to the windows that overlooked the pool outside, to the overly dramatic chandeliers and woodwork so expensive and well-oiled it gleamed when the sun hit it.

“Kolby’s house is a mansion,” I murmured.

Beaux and Oliver could probably afford something like this. Oliver probably lived in something like this. With years in the league and millions to his name, he probably had houses and condos in fabulous vacation spots and private planes to take him wherever he wanted to go on whatever random whim he had. He had to travel all the time, whenever he could, to be seen in so many different places with so many different women.

“He needs a home, not a crash pad like so many of the other players,” Oliver said, not looking around or swept up in anything except his intended purpose with me.

I swallowed at the thought before I realized what he said.

“And your house? Is it a home or a crash pad?”

A muscle jumped in his cheek when he finally pushed open a door and tugged me through. It was a bathroom, not a bedroom, and my resolve to live free shook beneath my feet.

He couldn’t give me the courtesy of a bed?

My wants and my needs conflicted with my past and my choices and the way I’d always been.

I was a jumbled mess.

He pulled me flush against him like he’d done on the dance floor a week ago, surrounding me everywhere.

He was only wearing a thin T-shirt, a hint of chest hair peeking through the top of his collar, and bright red board shorts. Leather flip-flop sandals adorned his perfect feet and I’d smiled when I first saw them. Seeing him casual was an illusion. 

As he touched me, his hand brushing through my hair again and then trailing down my arm, he was anything but casual.

Determined. Intense. Focused. 

I blinked and swallowed down my nerves.

“I’ve thought about having you beneath me for a week now. The first time that happens won’t be in Kolby’s house in a strange bed where I’ll never be able to picture you there again.”

“Oh.” The lump in my throat returned. I tilted my head back to see him looking down at me. “You wanted to talk.”

“I was an asshole before.”

“I have a feeling you’re always an asshole.”

I might have wanted him, but apparently I hadn’t become a complete doormat.

My words made him laugh. It was beautiful—deep and husky and rolled over me like gentle waves.

“Touché. I’m usually an asshole, just maybe not as obvious as I was to you. I’m sorry for making judgments and treating you like that.”

“Why?” 

His hands were still moving on me. Thick and large with calluses from years of hard work. Gentle yet firm—teasing. He brushed the pads of his fingers along my arms and shoulders to my upper back. He was everywhere, all over my exposed skin, making me shiver and tremble beneath him.

“Women around football players want one thing.” His hips pressed against me, drawing me closer. That bulge in his shorts, the one he’d let me see him adjust earlier, pressed against my stomach. God. He was large. He was tall and big everywhere, so it wasn’t a surprise.

My need grew.

“Two things, actually. It’s easy to give them what they want, knowing they’ll disappear afterward. When I saw you touching Beaux, and then dancing with Kolby, I didn’t like it.”

“That’s absurd.”

“I know. Can’t explain it, don’t really want to, but I’m thinking that we should get this attraction between us out of the way. I’ve got a season to focus on—nothing else can have my attention.”

He was being honest.

I had to give him that.

“So a quickie in the bathroom and then I’m forgotten?”

“No.” The word was clipped, showing his tension and restraint. It made my blood begin to boil beneath my skin. “After I take you here, I’ll take you to my place so I can live out the fantasies I’ve had of you for the last week.”

He’d thought of me. Fantasized about me. Somehow, that filled me with a power, a sense of control in this crazy, messed-up situation that I hadn’t yet known I had.

The idea didn’t seem as scary or as bad as it might have last week. After all, he had a season to focus on. I had a new job to get off the ground.

Neither of us had the time.

“Doesn’t seem fair,” I whispered, finally reaching out to touch him. I slid my fingers along the veins popping on his forearm. “To only get the night for you to fulfill your fantasies of me. What about mine of you?”

“You’ve thought about me?” His lips twitched…from humor or victory I didn’t know.

Dishonesty had no place in my life, and I resisted the urge to hide behind lies now. “For years.”

His hands were on my cheeks, pulling me to him. I had to roll to the tips of my toes for balance. “Tell me,” he whispered, right before his lips pressed against mine. “Tell me all of them.”

I couldn’t. He stole my breath and my sense of decency when his warm lips brushed mine and I opened to him. His tongue slid in, not seeking or gentle. I inhaled his scent as we kissed and knew I’d always remember the fresh spice of his cologne. He smelled like summer and excitement, and I suspected some of it was just him.

He plundered me. He sent me off balance with a kiss and his firm hands pressing back to my scalp. It pulled my hair, making it sting and making me tremble beneath him.

The man was tall and strong, able to break me with a breath, a twist of his hands, and yet the bite of pain made me lean closer, crave more.

His kiss unraveled me as our tongues twisted, taking and hunting but not giving, and I succumbed to his touch, to his idea. 

To the thought of him, for one night, where we could play out whatever we wanted and walk away.

It wouldn’t be enough. I was smart enough already to know it based on the heat rolling off his skin, the tightness in his muscles as he devoured me.