Playing His Game (The Reynolds Brothers) (9 page)

A bunch of hoots
and hollering fills the room as the boys give me their appreciation that I've
decided to join them. Marcus looks down at me happily and I just shake my head,
giggling at him. I know this is a bad idea, but that's never stopped me before.
I'm ready for some fun tonight. I internally promise myself that I'll leave
Marcus alone and screw one of his single friends before the night is over.

★★★

My limbs are
aching and stiff. I try to move but every muscle in my body tells me to stop.
The drumming beat in my head continues to get louder and louder and I can feel
the nerves pulsing behind my right eye.

This is either the
worst migraine ever, or the worst hangover ever.

My eyelids peel
open and all I see is white light shining through. It hurts so bad. The light
is painful. My eyelids close and I open them again, blinking a few times until
I adjust to the bright light. I glance around the unfamiliar room, trying to
figure out where I am, until I see him and everything from last night comes
rushing through my head.

The drinking, the
drugs, coming back here, dancing on the dining room table, more drinks. Then
there was his eyes, his lips, the muscles on his back and that gorgeously
defined V-shape leading down to his pants. Yes, it was that stupid V-shape that
teased me and egged me on. It reminded me of Scott so much that I finally
started stripping him naked and screwing him on the dining room table after his
friends left the room.

Oh, God.

I squint my eyes
looking at him, hoping that my memory is playing tricks on me, but there he is.
Marcus lies face down on the dirty carpet floor, naked. His pale firm butt
cheeks stand out in the sunlight.

I'm a horrible
person, the worst. He's getting married. I just slept with him and probably
ruined his upcoming marriage. Who does that? I'm so fucked up. I'm usually
better than this. I don't ever hook up with men in relationships. God, I'm
going to be sick.

Getting up off the
floor as swiftly as possible, I run and search for the nearest bathroom. Once
I'm there I only make it as far as the sink before I'm puking out the alcoholic
contents in my stomach. With every heave another memory from last night flashes
in my brain. It's superficial, I know, but the most upsetting memory is that he
wasn't even any good. I didn't come.

My stomach settles
and I quickly wash my mouth out with water before splashing my pale face to
wake up. Quietly, trying desperately not to wake up the soon-to-be groom, I
search for my clothes, slipping them on before finding my purse and getting out
of there.

Fuck and dash
seems to be my new thing.

If Marcus is
lucky, he won't remember any of it and he'll go off and marry his fiancée.

My car's not here
so I dig through my purse to find my smartphone. The giant black bag is like a
black hole, sucking up all its contents. My fingers latch on to my small
rectangular lifeline to getting home and I pull it out and turn it on. I call
for a cab and get lucky. He's only five minutes away.

It's when I hang
up that I realize I have a missed text. Two, actually, and my stomach gets all
nauseas again when I see who the texts are from.

Scott.

Blinking and
taking a few deep breaths, I click on his name to read the text messages.

Scott: I'm out
at some club with my buddies where the girls dance on tables in lingerie. No
nudity. Made me think of you.

The second text
came through on my phone an hour later.

Scott: I was
kind of hoping for an immediate text back but you must be working. Call me
tomorrow. We need to talk.

After weeks of
radio silence he decides to text me on the night I royally fuck up. What a
douche bag. Okay, maybe that's not entirely fair because he has no idea what I
was up to the night before, but his timing still sucks. He can go suck a cock
for all I care; I'm not calling him.

★★★

Tonight, after
taking a long nap earlier in the day and pounding aspirin and chasing it with
bottles of water, I'm finally feeling a little better. I'm still sick about how
I probably ruined that poor guy’s life, but I'm no longer hung over, thanks to
the greasy burger and fries I picked up. I'm also staring at the phone,
weighing the pros and cons of calling Scott.

Cons- He's Jared's
brother. I left him without saying goodbye after sleeping with him. He's
Jared's brother. We had a threesome with Tawny. He's Jared's brother. Scott's
probably screwed several women since that night a few weeks ago. He's Jared's
brother. Nothing good could come from this because we could never start a
relationship. He's Jared's brother. He watched me eat out Tawny while he finger
fucked me and had his dick down Tawny's throat. He's Jared's brother. He's
Jared's brother. He's Jared's Brother!!!

Pros- I miss him
and just the thought of him gets my entire body aroused.

I think the pros
win.

After hitting the
call button, I place the phone on speaker and set it down on my lap, tapping my
fingers nervously against my leg.

"Got to say,
I didn't think you'd call," Scott greets me on the other end of the phone.
His voice does something to my body, making my nipples instantly tighten. It's
rough and sexy with just the smallest hint of his laid back Californian accent.

"I wasn't
going to, but I read your texts at a vulnerable time. I'm hung over."

"Lucky me,
unlucky you."

"You have no
idea."

It's silent after
that. I'm not sure what to say and I think he feels the same way so I need to
say something to crack the tension. That's when my favorite bad pick up line
comes to mind and I say it to try and get him to laugh.

"How much
does a polar bear weigh?" As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret
them. They sound even stupider than when I first heard the joke.

"Okay...
random. I'm not sure."

"Enough to
break the ice." I make a drum noise indicating it was a joke but Scott
doesn't laugh.

"That was
lame, Winnie."

"That it
was." I pause and then decide to cut to the chase, "What do you need
to talk about Scott?"

"I don’t need
to talk. I wanted to talk."

"Your text
said need. If it said wanted I wouldn't have called you."

"Yes, you
would have."

"No, I
wouldn't have, Scott."

"You would
have called me for the same reason I wanted to call you. We left things off
weird, or you left things off weird. Skipping out on me in the middle of the
night and then leaving in the morning before I even woke up is shady. What's up
with that?"

"You knew I
left in the middle of the night?"

"Yep. I woke
up because I had to piss and you weren't there. When I went to look for you I
saw you out on the couch. I just figured you needed a little space and we'd
talk in the morning. Then you up and left before I even woke up."

"Sorry about
that," I reply embarrassed. I kind of feel bad now.

"Don't be
sorry, just tell me why. When I sent you that text after I woke up, I honestly
expected to hear from you. When I didn't, I decided you probably still needed
more time. Well, I've given you weeks now, so it's time to talk."

I don't know what
to say to that. Scott's always so upfront and honest, not really caring if he
hurts someone's feelings. He just says it how it is. I respect that, but that
doesn't mean I know how to react to that. And now, if it's even possible, I
feel even guiltier about sleeping with Marcus than I did before. I'm not sure
why I feel guilty. It's not like I owe Scott an explanation, but I do feel
guilty. I actually think I might feel a little better about myself if I found
out he's slept with another woman since I saw him last.

Is that fucked up
or what?

"Before I
explain myself I need you to tell me something and be completely honest when
you do it."

"Okay,
Winn."

"Have you
slept with anyone since I've been back home?"

"You've been
back home for almost four weeks."

"That's not
an answer, Scott." I hear him let out a puff of air, sighing before he
answers.

"Yes, Winnie.
I've had sex since the last time I saw you."

Oh, thank God. I
honestly feel relieved that I'm not the only whore in this weird friendship the
two of us have started to develop.

"With
who?" The words come out before I even have a moment to process them.
Where did that come from?

"A client I
met at a showing and- you know what? It doesn't matter who."

"That's a
weird reaction. Why don't you want to tell me?"

"It was
Tawny, okay? We sometimes hook up if no one else is around. It's just sex. I
have no feelings for her."

Just like that the
relief I felt earlier is gone and I feel like I might be sick. I had no idea
the two of them hooked up so regularly.

"Oh."

"Since we're
being upfront and honest, I'm guessing this question didn't just come up out of
nowhere. Feeling dirty or guilty about something? Who did you sleep with?"

"I never said
I slept with anyone."

"You didn't
have to. I can hear it in your voice."

Jeez. This isn't
exactly a moment I want to keep reliving, but he does have a point. I wanted
him to be honest with me so now I need to be honest back.

"I may or may
not have slept with the groom-to-be after I stripped for him and his buddies
for his bachelor party." I spit the words out fast, hoping he missed the
part about it being the groom.

"I thought
you didn't strip?"

Fuck my life. I'm
worried about Scott thinking less of me because I screwed a soon-to-be married
man and he's focusing on the fact that I shed my clothes in front of a bunch of
men.

"It's wedding
season and we were short staffed. It was a one-time thing. I feel guilty as
hell about the entire night but I'd been in a bad place for weeks and I just
needed something fun to help me forget."

I don't even
realize what I've said because I'm overwhelmed with guilt all over again. I'm
taken out of my guilt-ridden thoughts as I hear Scott's muffled voice on the
other end of the receiver yelling at someone.

"Is this a
bad time?"

"No, it was
just my dog, Sinatra."

"I didn't
know you had a dog. Where was he at Jared's party?"

"She."

"Huh?"

"She. Sinatra's
a she. The only bitch I'll ever let live in my house."

"Funny."

"A friend was
dog sitting. I have to get someone to watch her when my niece comes over. She's
deathly afraid of animals. Now stop changing the subject. Why did you leave me
that morning?"

To explain this to
him would be impossible. I can think of a million different reasons why I left,
so I'll pick one of those. Jealousy, shame, disgust, want, desire, need... take
your pick. Any of these will be plausible.

The nail polish on
my fingernails is starting to chip so I pick at the polish while figuring out
how to respond.

"I'm not
sure. I was an emotional loose cannon that morning. Every feeling possible was
going through my body. But I think the real reason I left was embarrassment and
shame.

"The things I
did with Tawny is something I've never done before. I'm no prude either, and
I've had a threesomes before, but I was being double penetrated by cock, not
having my tits licked by a childhood friend who also happens to have
tits."

The nail polish on
my thumb is now completely off so I move to my pointer finger.

"And if I'm
being completely honest, I thought it would be just me and you. When Tawny
asked to join in and you didn't say no I was a little bummed. I was also buzzed
but I would have walked away from the whole thing if Tawny hadn't made a move.
When I saw your face after she kissed me, I knew I had to go through with it.
You were so turned on and that got me turned on and soon I was enjoying
everything Tawny was doing to me. It was a fun night, but it won't ever happen
again."

"Keep
going," Scott says almost immediately.

"So after our
sex marathon I passed out and when I woke up it was just you and me. I don't do
sleepovers, not ever, so I moved to the couch. When I woke up the next morning
the shame of what we did took over and I knew I had to leave. I couldn't chance
anyone finding out about us.

"Part of me
hoped you would have called, but you didn't. You just sent me one lousy text
message that made even more doubting questions arise for me. I wanted you,
Scott, and I got you, but I got Tawny, too, which means Tawny got you. Even if
it's completely irrational to feel this way, it still pissed me off and hurt
me. Even as a child, I never played well with others when it came to what was mine."

"And I'm
yours?" Scott's always got a quick and clever reply.

"No, but you
were supposed to be mine that night."

I stop talking and
wait for him to fill the silence. The pounding inside my head is starting up
again so I'll need to take some pain reliever as soon as I get off the phone
with him.

"It was a
night of bad mistakes, Winnie, and I'm sorry. It was fun but I promise I'll
never do anything like that again. That's kind of why I'm calling. I want to
make it up to you. There's this real estate convention down in Chicago this
coming weekend and I want you to come with me. I want to take you out."

"Like what?
On a date?"

He coughs to clear
his voice before speaking, "No, not a date. Just two friends hanging out
while one tries to make things right."

"I can't go
to Chicago," I answer truthfully. "I have to work this weekend."

"Get someone
to cover for you, or call in sick. Don't make excuses, Winnie. Let me make up
for the last time I saw you."