Rule Play (Saints of Love Book 1)

by Elizabeth Perry

  “I have plans…” I start, but he just waves his hand. “Cancel them.”

  My head has been a mess for the past twenty four hours. Call me crazy, but the fact that my hand touched Adrian’s man parts, and the fact that more almost came from it, is enough to have my head spinning. I guess it’s not really the fact that I touched him- it’s more the part where he was about to do more.

  And I wanted it.

  I fucking wanted it. Call me whatever you will, I deserve it. Because I almost got busy with my pretend boyfriend, on my receptionist’s desk, in my salon, on a Monday morning. I have officially lost control.

  Ok, so perhaps I’m being a little bit dramatic. Maybe Adrian would have just kissed me. Maybe that’s all that he was going for. That could be true, but even I must admit, that wasn’t all that I wanted. I wanted more. I wanted him. I wanted to wrap my hand around the length of him and listen to his breath catch as he said my name.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  This is getting out of control.

  Which is precisely why I wanted to cancel on him today. I was still flustered when he called me yesterday, maybe thirty minutes after I grabbed his cock, and reiterated to me, that I needed to come with him to this formal team event tonight. I wanted to say no, but I also wanted to get him off of the phone, and I could tell by his tone that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. So, I agreed, and then, have tried every which way to get out of going.

  I told him that I was sick. He offered to bring me medicine.

  I told him that I forgot that I had other plans. He told me to cancel them.

  I finally just told him the truth, that I didn’t really want to go. He told me that he also didn’t want to go, and that he would pick me up at six. Now here it is, five o’clock, and I’m one hour away from having him show up on my doorstep. No doubt, he’s going to look gorgeous when he arrives. I’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands to myself. So, I’m going to do everything in my power to look as unappealing as I can.

  “That’s a different look.” Sophia looks up from where she is laying on my bed, her nose buried in her phone. “You look older than your age, but if that’s the look that you’re going for, you win.”

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Sophia is right, I do look like an old woman, but this dress has the most fabric out of anything that I own. I don’t want to dress too revealing and end up in a similar situation to yesterday. If I don’t look attractive, Adrian won’t try to kiss me. If he doesn’t try to kiss me, I’ll be able to keep my legs closed.

  It’s a win in my book.

  “You look like you’re going to bury your best friend Agnes. You two have been friends for almost eighty years, and you’re not quite sure what you’re going to do without her. I assume you will also be driving your giant Buick and using aqua net hairspray to keep your beehive in place. Make sure that you pop into Perkins right after. I hear their early bird special has a good sized portion for less than five bucks.”

  Sophia is rewarded with my most favorite finger.

  “Look, Gertrude, if you don’t want me to pick on you, then take that dress off. It’s hideous, and for real, you do look like you’re about ninety years old. You have a million dresses in that closet. Pick something cute.”

  I flop onto the bed and groan.

  “But I don’t want to look cute. I want to look like a woman a man doesn’t want to touch.”

  Sophia drops her phone onto the bed with a thud, and scoots closer to me. She grabs my chin in her hand, spinning my face so that our noses are almost touching.

  “You better spill it, Mia. Right now.”

  I don’t want to spill it. Even though this is Sophia, my very best friend, and the only person on the planet who knows every detail of every single one of my scandals, still. I’m not ready to share what happened between Adrian and I. Although, my best friend isn’t going to drop it until I spill the beans. We’ve been down this road before, and Sophia is one stubborn mother trucker.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You better start talking about it. Did you hook up with Adrian Malone, Mia? Because if you did, this is epic. And I want all of the details.”

  I sigh.

  “We didn’t hook up…” I nibble on my lower lip nervously. “We just, ah. I just…”

  Sophia stares into my soul, I swear that she does. And sometimes, I wonder if she has a bit of ESP, because her eyes widen, and then she gasps.

  “You didn’t!”

  “Didn’t what?” I screech, covering my face with my hands. “Ok, ok. I did it, alright? I grabbed his junk. It was on complete accident, by the way. I was trying to shove money down his pants.”

  Complete silence. My hands are still clamped tightly over my eyes, so I can’t see the look of horror on Sophia’s face. I don’t need to see it this time, anyhow. I’ve seen it enough in the past to know exactly what she looks like right now. But to my surprise, she just bursts out laughing.

  “Oh, dear God, Mia. You’re a mess.”

  “I know!” I throw my hands up. “Trust me, I know. And now I have to face the guy!”

  “So?”

  “So?” I stare at her. “So, now what?”

  Her face lights up. “So now you tell me all about it. Is Adrian Malone hung like a horse, or like a small pony?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I do.” She nudges me. “I bet it’s horse. He’s got a big one, doesn’t he? That’s why you’re so flustered.”

  “I hate you.” I don’t mean it. But I do hate that she’s still talking about it. “And anyways, I only touched the tip. Just the tip. So, I don’t really know.”

  “That’s what she said.” Sophia bursts into a fit of laughter. I smack her with a pillow, before taking the pillow and covering my head with it.

  I need to make better choices in my life.

  I need to not ever touch Adrian’s pants again.

  13

  Adrian

  I’m not sure why I’m feeling the way that I am. After all, I’m just picking up Mia. Mia, the woman who is pretending to be my girl for both my own purposes, and hers as well. Mia, the one who I’ve been slowly getting to know. The Mia who is quick witted and funny, and the one who is becoming my friend.

  Unfortunately, she’s also a complete fox, and ever since yesterday morning, when her hand slipped somewhere that it shouldn’t have, my mind hasn’t been thinking of her as a pretend anything. It’s been solely focused on claiming her. And I’m having a hard time controlling myself.

  When I say hard, there’s no pun involved, but dammit all if hard isn’t the first thing that I feel, as her front door swings open, and my eyes take her in.

  Her red hair is curled, with half pulled back, and the other half hanging down past her bare shoulders. Her emerald green dress hugs her curves to perfection, ending just slightly above her knee. The heels on her feet make her legs look endless, and as her eyes meet mine, they literally sparkle.

  I’m fucking toast.

  “Hey.” I sound like a chump. I should be telling her that she looks beautiful. Stunning, even. And all that I can think up is hey? No wonder I’m stone cold single.

  “Hey yourself.” Her eyes move down, raking over my body, while she nibbles on her lower lip. It may be my imagination, but her eyes linger the longest over the area just below my belt. It’s enough to send my body into overdrive, my dick suddenly taking over my small mind.

  “You look fucking beautiful.” My words are gruff, even to me. I’m sure my eyes are telling her exactly what I’m thinking, because her cheeks flush and she looks down. She shifts uncomfortably, before finally taking a ragged breath.

  “Thank you. Listen, Adrian, I’m really sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I promise you, my hand just slipped.”

  “The only thing that you need to apologize for is pulling your hand back.” Who is this guy? This dirty talking, sick son of a bitch? I’m not usually
this crass, but I can’t even help myself. Part of me just likes watching Mia squirm, and the other half means every damn word. It’s a complex shit show.

  “Well, then. This night just got a whole lot more awkward.” She breaks the mood with a joke, and then grabs her clutch purse from off of her entry way table. “Let’s do this. And by this, I don’t mean you.”

  We’ll see about that.

  These types of events have never been my thing. When I first went pro, I’ll admit it. I liked the glitz and the glamour. But even that was short lived. I mean, the reality of it is this. I’m a dumb jock. I can throw a damn good ball. I’m way more comfortable in casual settings, in workout clothes, in a gym, or in the comfort of my own home. Getting all dressed up to attend a team dinner and mingling with people that I have nothing in common with is just not my kind of protein shake. But it’s necessary, and it’s part of the gig. So, I can dress up in a monkey suit and wave my little hat around with the best of them.

  Except, there is no hat on my head. Instead, I’ve got my hair styled perfectly, and a black tuxedo on that is tailored precisely to my large frame, fitting me like a glove. But what makes this day even better, is that for the first time in the history of my career, I’ve got a woman on my arm, and she is stunning.

  Heads are turning our way, and I have no doubt that they are looking at Mia, instead of looking at me. She hardly notices it, which frankly, makes her even more beautiful in my book.

  “So, what is the purpose of this, anyways?” Mia’s eyes flutter up to mine, which makes my heart dance a bit in my chest. I smile down at her.

  “That’s a damn good question. I’m not really sure. Our owner does one of these a season, usually a few weeks in. If we’re having a shitty season, there aren’t as many people here. If we’re having a good season, he invites his entire elite crew. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re having a good season.”

  It’s wall to wall people in here. The amount of money in this room could end world hunger, pay off our country’s deficit, and house every orphan in the world. Maybe that’s part of the reason that I hate these types of things so much. These people have the money to do good with it, and instead, they brag about their latest yacht, newest vacation home, or their latest booming investments. The charities that they give to are basically just for write off purposes, and I’ve yet to meet anyone in this room who gives a damn for the right reasons. It’s all just for show.

  When I say that, I’m speaking for my owner, Ted Randall, and his crew. I’m not speaking on behalf of the guys on my team, because a lot of them do good things with their money. More than half of my team grew up not having shit. There’s always a few bad apples, the guys who came from nothing and now have made it their mission to flash their wealth in everyone’s faces. But for the most part, the guys that came from nothing haven’t forgotten where they came from. Sure, they put their parents in mansions and filled their bank accounts so that they never have to worry about money again. But aside from that, they’ve given back to the poor communities, and started all kinds of youth foundations for up and coming athletes from the inner cities. The guys on my team are solid fucking people, at least in that department.

  The rest of the people here can suck my dick.

  “I feel really out of place. Do you know that I just overheard a woman at the bar talking about her new manicure?” Mia rolls her eyes. “A manicure that cost a thousand dollars. That’s insane.”

  “Agree. These things aren’t my idea of a good time, but it’s part of my job.”

  “Your job kind of sucks.” Mia sighs. “I couldn’t imagine having to deal with people like this. I’m glad that I don’t come from money.”

  Same.

  I link my arm with hers, and lead her towards our table, located off to the side of the ballroom where this dinner is being held. Each table has six chairs, for three couples. We lucked out, being seated next to Wyatt, who has brought one of his latest flings with him, and Jude Masters, our tight end, who has also brought his latest woman, who honestly, looks like one of the women that frequents Wyatt’s parties. She looks familiar, too familiar for my comfort, and I wonder if in one of my drunken nights, I hooked up with her.

  God, I fucking hope not.

  Usually, I sit by myself at these things, because I’ve never been one to have a woman tag along. Not that there’s ever been one I would consider bringing with me. No one at least, until Mia.

  I pull her chair out for her and help her to sit. Once I’m seated myself, I loop my arm across the back of her chair, catching more than one surprised glance from my teammates. Jude is the first to pipe up.

  “So, Mia. It is Mia, right?” She nods.

  “Tell me all about how you met my buddy here. Was it love at first sight? Or, love at first mention of who he was?”

  I cut my eyes at Jude. His female companion giggles a little, while the woman with Wyatt rolls her eyes. I kind of like that one.

  “Love is a big word for someone that I just met.” I love how nonchalant Mia sounds as she fires her words back at him. “And to be honest, I’m not a football fan. We met when I was cutting his hair. I didn’t know who he was, of course, because I don’t watch football.” She smiles sweetly at him. Me on the other hand, I’m irritated, because this is not what we had discussed as our meeting.

  “Adrian always had his barber cutting his hair, but once I got my hands on his locks, I knew it was meant to be. I mean, he has great hair, right?”

  Wyatt snickers.

  “I couldn’t wait to get my hands in it.”

  “Oh.” Jude grins. “Feisty.”

  “When he asked me out, I didn’t know that he was a football God. I just knew that he was Adrian. And to be honest, this whole fame thing isn’t exactly a selling feature. At least, not to women like me, who make their own money and live comfortably, on our own.”

  “Hell, yes, sister.” Wyatt’s date high fives her. “I love that. What is it that you do for a living?”

  Mia then turns her attention to Wyatt’s date, Samantha, and tells her about her salon. Turns out, Samantha also owns her own business, a furniture store downtown, not too far from Mia’s salon. They become instant friends for the night, chatting up just about every female subject out there. Jude and his date cut themselves off from the table as they whisper to each other and make out, which to be honest, is nothing new for Jude. He does this at every single team event where you can bring a date. He’s living his best single life, and he isn’t afraid for people to know it. He also showcases it every chance that he gets, making the most of his womanizing reputation, always having a beautiful blond on his arm.

  Most people would get a bad reputation with that, but not Jude. The women that he dates always have great things to say about him. He’s the player that you hate to love but love to hate. Men want to be him, women want to screw him, and he’s happy as a clam about all of it. Jude is living life on his terms, without any excuses for it.

  Wyatt on the other hand, obviously dates more than I do, but he’s come solo to many things in his time. Wyatt had a girlfriend when he first went pro but then things fizzled for reasons that he’s never wanted to talk about. I think he’s been scarred from it, which is why he never gets serious with anyone. Maybe that’s why he’s my best friend here. I can totally relate to that.

  Nobody is more scarred in the past relationship department than I am. I mean for fucks sake. I picture my dead ex every time I go to make a throw. It doesn’t get any more fucked up than that.

  I know that my head is still a mess, which is why I’ve steered clear from ever settling down. But with Mia, I get the best of both worlds. I get to have a beautiful woman on my arm, I get to have conversations with her, and I get the banter back and forth that I’ve been missing. With that comes absolutely no strings, increased media attention which equals money, and well, lets be honest here. It also may come with some sex.

  That wasn’t originally part of the plan, but…then she touched my dick
.

  Now it’s all that I can think about.

  Dinner ends up being served shortly after we sit down at the table. Mia continues to chat up Wyatt’s girl for most of the night, and basically, I just lean back in my chair and listen to her. I kind of love the way that she talks, and the way that her eyes light up when she gets excited about something. It makes her even more beautiful. It brings back a sense of nostalgia, one that I haven’t felt in a while, as my mind flicks back to Kat.

  Until the day that she died, Kat had always been in my life. She was the girl next door, literally, so she was always my day one. Our town was pretty small, and there was never much to do, but the two of us always found a way to make our own fun. We spent our summers swimming in the river on the edge of town, and building tree forts out in the middle of the woods. We rode our bikes all over that town, sometimes just for something to do. Her bright red hair matched her personality to a T. She was a firecracker, but dammit all, she was my firecracker.

  I think that I knew that I loved her in the first grade. And not just the kind of love that you have for a friend. I’m talking about that once in a lifetime, going to love you forever and ever type of shit. It was at that point, that I had decided that she could never be just my friend. I knew at six years old that I was going to marry her, give her my last name, and make a ton of babies with her. I had our entire future mapped out. It took her some time to see it though, and in fact, I almost lost her completely after I finally grew some balls and kissed her in the sixth grade.

  She had completely frozen, staring at me in shock and asked me why in the world I would do such a thing. I thought that I had lost her forever.

  Turns out, by our freshman year of high school, things had turned around in that department, and all of a sudden, Kat’s hormones kicked in. Finally, right? I felt like I’d been waiting my whole damn life for her to see me as someone besides her buddy.