Scored

by Lily Harlem

  “But what? We get on really well, have loads in common and bloody hell.” He swept his gaze over me. “You’re bloody gorgeous, I would be so proud to have you on my arm.”

  “But I can’t go out with you. I’m…I’m seeing someone.” There, I’d said it. It was out in the open. I was officially off the market.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize.” He glanced down at our joined hands. “Who?”

  I hesitated. “Er, no one you know.”

  He huffed. “Not the homeless guy?”

  My stomach clenched. What was Phil getting at? I’d thought he was being genuine, but was he digging for information again?

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.

  He let go of my hand, sat back and smiled. “Well one thing is for sure, he’s one hell of a lucky guy.”

  “I’m sorry, Phil. I do like you, a lot, and if I wasn’t—”

  He held up his hand. “Hey, no apologies. I would think less of you if you cheated on him, and I would hate to think less of you. It’s just a case of wrong place at the wrong time for me.”

  “I guess so, because really, you’re a sweet bloke. I would have, if I wasn’t seeing…him.”

  “Him? Doesn’t he have a name?”

  “Er, yes, Peter.”

  “Peter what?”

  “Peter Piper.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  He laughed.

  “Don’t be mean about my boyfriend,” I said, barely able to suppress a grin. Where the hell had Peter Piper come from?

  “That’s a really silly name. Didn’t his parent like him or something?”

  “Of course they did. It’s just…” Seriously?

  “It just sounds like a made up name.” His grin dropped and he studied me closely.

  “Well it’s not.” I pulled at the handle and opened the car door. “Thanks for the ride, and you know, I am sorry.”

  “No worries.”

  I stood. “Goodnight.”

  “Wait, Nicky.”

  I stooped and looked into the dark car. “What?”

  “The offer is still there for a ride back tomorrow.”

  “It is?”

  “Of course. I asked you out but you can’t because you’re seeing someone. That shouldn’t spoil our friendship.”

  “You’re right, of course, and thanks, a ride back would be great.”

  He grinned. “Pick you up at midday?”

  “Perfect.” I banged the door shut and watched him creep out into the traffic.

  I’d just stepped into my room and kicked off my shoes when my mobile rang. A number I didn’t recognize.

  “Nicky?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s me.”

  I sat heavily on the end of the bed. “Lewis?”

  “Who else did you think it was?”

  “Well I didn’t know. My phone didn’t recognize the number.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, fine.”

  “Only I saw that A-hole bash you on the head with his microphone.”

  “Oh that, no, I’m fine, honestly.”

  “I wanted to come over and deck him for not saying sorry.”

  “I think that would have been a little over the top.” Ah, so that was the reason for the thunderous expression.

  “For hurting you, no, I think he would have got off lightly.”

  “I’m used to it. I work in a man’s world, remember.”

  He paused. “Yeah, and I can’t help thinking some of the men really appreciate you being there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Phil.”

  “I told you, he’s—”

  “I know, just a friend. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all weird and possessive over you.”

  Part of me wanted Lewis to get all possessive over me. I liked the idea of being his and no one else’s. In fact, hadn’t I just said as much to Phil—I had a boyfriend, I couldn’t date anyone else. Not that Lewis was my boyfriend. We were just in lust with each other. “Great goals today. England really showed their strengths.”

  “Yeah, we were pretty evenly matched. Clare did well to get his head to that last ball.”

  “It looked seamless, the way the pair of you played it. The Swedish goalie didn’t even see it coming.”

  He let out a low chuckle. “It was kind of cool.”

  I pictured him smiling. The way the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled and his cheeks balled. I couldn’t stop a grin spreading on my face. “So where are you now?”

  “In some fancy place in the middle of Kiev. We fly back to Donetsk tomorrow morning.”

  “I’m heading back tomorrow too.”

  “Are you staying at the Donbass again?”

  “No. Reg emailed to say that the budget had been used up. I’ve got some one-star place in the center of town to look forward to. I think he’s fed up that I haven’t sent him any juicy gossip or incriminating pictures of you all having a wild time.”

  “So you get punished for sticking by your morals?”

  “Seems that way, but it doesn’t matter. The Donbass was great while it lasted.”

  There was a pause then, “Nicky?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have an idea.”

  “What?” I stood and paced to the window. Stared out at the twinkling lights stretching into the distance. Lewis was out there somewhere.

  “Come to the Donbass anyway and I’ll get you into my suite.”

  “What? You can’t do that!”

  “Of course I can.”

  “But what about Fellows?”

  “Leave Fellows to me. Just come to the Donbass, early evening and walk in as though you’re staying there. Go to the concierge desk.”

  “But how—?”

  “I haven’t worked out the details yet, but let’s just say money pays for discretion and I happen to know of a member of staff who’s already carried out one secret mission for me concerning an envelope.”

  “But smuggle me in? That’s a bit different to getting a note delivered.”

  “Are you doubting my abilities to get what I want?

  I hesitated. “No.”

  “Then keep your phone on. I’ll text you.”

  A thrill seared through me. Lewis Tate was going to smuggle me into his room. Oh my God. Finally we would be alone together, with a bed and a shed load of raging desires to quench, spectacularly. “Okay,” I whispered.

  “And Nicky.”

  “Yes.”

  “You looked beautiful tonight. In fact, you get more beautiful every time I see you.”

  “I, but I was just wearing—”

  “Say thanks.”

  I laughed. “Okay, thanks, and you looked…muddy.”

  “Well you’ll be pleased to know I’m all clean now. Well, physically anyway. But my mind is having decidedly dirty thoughts about what I’m going to do to you tomorrow night, when I get you alone and the door is locked.” He paused. “My suite is on the top floor,” his voice lowered, “no one will hear your cries of delight or your pleas for more.”

  I wrapped my arm around my waist and hugged myself, held in a heavenly quiver of anticipation and let it travel to my pussy and my nipples. “And exactly what are you going to do to me?”

  “That, lovely lady, would be telling. But let’s just say you won’t be disappointed.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  “Me neither. Keep your phone on. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay. Goodbye.”

  “No, don’t say goodbye. It sounds like I won’t see you again.”

  “What do you want me to say then?”

  “How about see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You can bet your last pound on it.”

  Chapter Eight

  I stood beneath the majestic entrance to the Donbass and
looked up at the sweeping art deco architecture. A combination of emotions whirled through me. Excitement, desire, anxiety and a certain amount of guilt for having lied and told Phil I was staying at the Donbass again. But what could I do? I needed to be here the same way I needed my heart to keep beating.

  After flashing my press identification to the same security guy I’d seen last week, I wandered into the lobby. My first stop was the ladies’ restroom where I quickly freshened up, slipped into my black dress and applied a coat of lipstick. After five hours in the car I needed a little vamping before I saw Lewis.

  The concierge was an elderly gentleman in a neat navy suit with gold trimmings, almost military style. I checked his name badge. Lewis had texted me and said that I must only speak to Bohdan. Luckily this was what was engraved on the polished gold rectangle pinned to his jacket.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Nicky Thomas. You’re expecting me?”

  He hesitated for the briefest of moments then nodded. “Absolutely Miss Thomas. If you would come this way.”

  He turned and I followed. We went through a doorway, around a desk littered with paperwork, then through another door, into a corridor. The walls were a dull grey, the floor green linoleum. There was nothing plush about it. I was no longer in a public part of the hotel.

  “We will use the service lift to get to the Presidential Suite.”

  Presidential Suite!

  “Okay,” I said, tugging my holdall and wondering what on earth Bohdan must think of me. I guessed it didn’t matter, or if it did I would worry about it later. Right now all I could think of was not running into Fellows or any of the other players or physios or coaches, or anyone at all, actually. An invisibility cloak would have come in mighty handy right now.

  The elevator whizzed upwards, condensing the nerves in my stomach into a tight ball. I studied the walls to distract myself. It was devoid of any of the finery the lift Lewis had kissed me in. No brass bar around the edge, no smoky-mirrored doors. Just plain dull metal and dusty corners.

  When we reached level seven Bohdan spoke again. “Wait here. I will check all is clear.”

  “Yes, okay.”

  He pointed to a button with opposing horizontal triangles and I pressed it to keep the elevator where it was. Bohdan disappeared through a fire door opposite and I was left looking at two maid’s trolleys stacked high with linen and towels.

  Oh God. What the hell was I doing? I was being smuggled in to Lewis Tate’s room by a bribed concierge. How had life got so crazy? I was supposed to hunt out sports stories, not become part of one myself. Which I would be if England’s winning streak came to an end and Fellows pointed the finger at me.

  I jumped when Bohdan appeared again.

  “It’s all clear, miss. Please, come quick.”

  “Yes, of course.” Hurriedly I followed.

  Instantly I was immersed in the decadent surroundings I’d come to associate with the Donbass. Thick carpets, elegant pictures in ornate frames and a fresh, flowery fragrance that lingered in the air wherever I went.

  Bohdan stopped at the second door on the right and pushed it open. “There are four suites on this lower level. To get to the Presidential Suite you must go through here and up the staircase to the very top of the hotel.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Please, go quick.”

  “Yes, yes of course. Thank you.”

  He ushered me through and I heard the door click shut.

  Before me was a wide carpeted stairway, royal blue, with a thick brass banister. Carrying my case, I turned two dog-legs before I reached a wide white door with Presidential Suite written on it in gold lettering.

  Suppressing a wave of nerves, I knocked.

  No answer.

  Shit. What if this wasn’t his room? What if Fellows was in there? Or maybe another player or a physio. What the hell would I do then?

  I shouldn’t be here. Nibbling my little fingernail, I glanced back down the staircase. Perhaps I should just go. Leave Lewis alone and let him get on with his job. My heart sank. Just the thought of not seeing him made me feel as though the blood in my veins had turned to lead.

  It was no good. I had to take the risk. There was no getting off this crazy ride I was on. Not now. I was too far gone.

  Suddenly the door pulled in on itself.

  Lewis stood before me, dressed in a red T-shirt and navy sweats. He wasn’t smiling. His gaze just drank me up the way a predator does its prey.

  “Hi,” I managed as that lead in my veins turned to neat lust. Damn, he was so good-looking he should be illegal.

  “Did anyone see you?”

  “No, well, just Bohdan.”

  “Good.” He took my case and set it inside the room, leaning it against the wall. “Come in.”

  I stepped into the suite, caught a general impression of grandeur before his arms were around me and there was a loud bang as the door slammed shut.

  “Fuck, I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to have you alone,” he said hoarsely then kissed me, hard and fast, and backed me against the wall.

  I grabbed his shoulders, hung on as air whooshed from my lungs.

  “I need you, Nicky,” he said, grabbing my wrists and tugging them over my head. “I need you like I’ve never wanted anyone before.” He stared down at me, at my face, my chest and where his groin was shoved into my belly.

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  His need was evident; his cock was rigid.

  “And I can’t take my time. Slow and indulgent will have to come later.”

  “Yes, oh, Lewis, please.” I was helpless. Pinned to the wall and at his mercy. I adored it as much as I wanted to free my hands and grab his clothes. Rip them off and ride him like a wild thing.

  He shifted and captured both of my wrists in just on of his big hands. Kissed me again, shoving at my dress and peeling down my panties as he did so. I managed to kick the knickers free, from one foot at least.

  “Are you wet for me?” he asked into my mouth.

  “So wet. So wet for you.”

  “Good, because I’m going to fuck you now, like you’ve never been fucked before.”

  I didn’t doubt it for a second. Trembles of anticipation attacked my spine. Lewis Tate was about to fuck me. Lewis, the man of my dreams, the man who had stolen my heart had me jammed against the wall with my panties down and my dress up. “Do it,” I said, my voice frantic as I hooked my right leg behind the back of his thigh. “Just do it, ahh…”

  His cock squeezed into the first inch of my entrance, stretching me wide.

  He flared his nostrils, finally released my hands and scooped me up. Balanced me between him and the wall with his palms spread out on my butt.

  “Oh, Jesus, you’re so damn tight,” he groaned.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist, locked my ankles in the small of his back and slotted my fingers into his hair. Held his head level with mine. “Maybe it’s because you’re so big,” I panted.

  “Relax a little,” he said, shoving in some more and lowering me down at the same time.

  “Ah, ah.” Relax! Fuck. He was filling me so absolutely. Stretching tissues unused to such girth. Dropping my head back to the wall, I fluttered my eyes shut. Willed my pussy to release some of its tension.

  “That’s it,” he murmured hotly. “Let me in.”

  I groaned, low and guttural as he eased in some more, burying his cock deep within me.

  “Yes, yes,” he hissed.

  I opened my eyes, saw the look of utter bliss on his face and pulled him to me for a kiss. We tangled our tongues and he gave one final shunt, filling me until his balls shoved up against my ass.

  My cry was lost in his mouth as erotic pain and mind-blowing pleasure ravished my senses. His pubis had connected with my clit, applying a hard pressure that seemed to burn straight to my core.

  We tore our mouths apart and stared at one another and I let myself get lost in the dark depths of his eyes. They were wild and animalistic. Primitive forces had taken a hol
d of him and it was all because of me. If life had moments that would flash before me on my dying day, then seeing Lewis, like this, would definitely be one of them.

  “Fuck me,” I said, my eye contact unwavering. “Fuck me hard like you promised you would, Lewis. Now.”

  He gritted his teeth, lifted me then dropped my body back down on his cock at the same time as he surged his hips upwards.

  I opened my mouth but no sound came out. The sensation was too intense for me to know what noise to make.

  “This what you want?” he asked harshly.

  “Yes, more…fuck me…more.”

  He repeated the action. Then again and again. I clung to his shoulders, caught the ripples of pleasure that were growing in my pussy. Harnessed them and sensed the first seeds of an almighty orgasm knitting together.

  Sweat prickled over my body. Lewis’ breathing was ragged, so was mine. Somewhere in the recess of my mind I was thankful I’d been so wet for him. Our mating was crude and desperate, no niceties like foreplay. Though I guess we’d been doing that for days.

  “Ah, honey, I’m going to come,” he gasped. “Come with me. Please, come with me.”

  I didn’t need asking twice. My climax was hovering. Teetering on the brink. “Yes, oh, yes, don’t stop, please, now.” It was there, over-spilling, carrying me onto a plain of bliss. I screwed my eyes shut, bit down on my lip and dug my nails into Lewis’ shoulders and allowed that perfect sensation to hold my body in glorious suspension.

  “Oh, fuck,” he shouted then rammed into me harder, higher. So high I’d swear he nudged my diaphragm.

  My pussy contracted, almost violently around his shaft, hugging him tight as he pulsed and pumped inside me.

  “Oh, oh, oh,” he gasped, shunting me up the wall with the force of his thrusts. “Fuck, it’s never felt so good.”

  “Tell me about it,” I panted, gripping his biceps and curling my toes as ecstasy tore through me. “Fuck, you’re so damn big and hard.”

  “I aim to please.” He grunted, slowing his hip thrusts and brushing his lips over mine.

  “Well you did that.” I was struggling for breath. My head felt fuzzy, my body not quite my own.

  “We’re certainly in good synchrony.”

  I giggled. “Perfect.”