Broken Play

by Tracey Ward

  She runs her hands up under my shirt. Her fingers splay on my sides, greedily but slowly caressing everything she can find. My stomach. My ribs. My chest. It’s amazing, the way she’s feeling me. Her hands are small but powerful as they run over me. Like she owns me just by touching me. And I let her. I’ll give her whatever she wants, even me, and I don’t hand myself out lightly. Her smile is a brand on my heart with her name, her initials, and it burns like the sun when she puts her palm over the steady beat of it in my chest.

  “You’re so calm,” she muses, leaning back to stare up at me. “How are you so calm?”

  “I don’t feel calm.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Good,” I answer honestly.

  She smiles proudly. “Because of me.”

  “Yeah, baby,” I laugh. I tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. I let it slide through my fingers slow and soft. “Because of you.”

  “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “You can tell me anything.”

  “I like you, Tyus.” She kisses me once gently. “I like you a lot.”

  “I like you too, Mila. More than I should.”

  “But you can’t help it.”

  “No.”

  “Because I’m awesome.”

  I chuckle, shaking us both. “Yeah. You’re alright.”

  “I’m better than alright.”

  “You’re funny.”

  “And smart.”

  “And beautiful.”

  “And bitchy.”

  “I like bitchy.”

  “Good,” she whispers against my lips. “‘cause I’m never gonna change.”

  I kiss her slow and lingering, like we have all the time in the world when the truth is we’re running short on it. On everything. My will is shrinking with every sigh that escapes her mouth. Her patience is fading with each stretch of my skin her fingers can find, but still I take it slow because I want to enjoy her and this feeling she gives me. I lick her lips with my tongue, tangle it longingly with hers, and I breathe a little easier because of it. Because of her and her eyes and the curve of her hips. The length of her legs. The small peaks of her breasts pushing against my chest.

  Everything about her is petite but she’s tight and I’m thinking about what’s under that nothing of a dress. Eventually the easy, calm kiss isn’t so calm anymore, and I’m thrusting my tongue into her mouth where she welcomes me eagerly. I wonder what her pussy is like. Is it tiny and tight like the rest of her? Is it as hot as her mouth that feels like fire? Will she take me in this easily or will I have to go slow so I don’t hurt her? Will she beg me for more when I give it to her?

  “Stop, stop, stop,” I chant to both of us, pulling away.

  Mila holds me so I can’t escape completely but she lets me up for air. Just a little bit, just enough so I don’t die. “I don’t want to stop, Tyus,” she pleads. “I’ve been thinking about you for days.”

  “I know, but I—”

  “I’m not wearing any underwear. That was on purpose.”

  Fuck this girl, I think desperately. You can’t say shit like that to a guy that’s already turned out over you. It ain’t right.

  She’s looking at me pleadingly with those big, brown eyes and I’m feeling weak in too many ways to count. I let my head fall forward against hers until we’re breathing into each other’s mouths, hot and frantic, and she’s practically clawing at my neck to bring me closer.

  “Fuck me,” she whispers lightly, her breath like a sweet breeze on my tongue.

  I want to. I’m literally aching to. But I don’t because I can’t. She’s a minefield and she knows it. A single misstep and one of us is going to lose a limb. Dinner is dangerous enough.

  I kiss her softly, just once. It’s like feeding a shark. She latches onto my mouth, trying to seduce me with her tongue, but I’m bigger than she is. I’m stronger, and I use that strength inside and out to pry myself away from her.

  “Slow down, baby,” I tell her firmly but quietly, softening the blow as much as I can. “We’re not going there tonight.”

  She reaches for my hips. “Don’t be fucking chivalrous, Tyus. Just fuck me.”

  “Don’t be a child, Mila. Be patient.”

  She looks at me for a long time with an expression I can’t understand. It’s not angry. It’s definitely not happy. It’s like a mixture of shock, surprise, and irritation. I’m not reacting to her the way I’m supposed to and it’s annoying to her, but what she doesn’t know is my dick is trying to break free from my pants to get to her and if she had sucked my lower lip into her mouth one more time, I’d have her bent over the trunk of her car with her skirt up and her ass in the air. I’d be eating dinner from between her thighs and I’d sure as fuck ask for seconds.

  But she can’t know that because she’ll push me past my limits, and we’re dancing perilously close to them as it is.

  “Your loss,” she teases, recovering.

  “Believe me. I feel it.” I take her hand as I unlock my Maybach. It chirps readily, inviting her in. “Come on. We gotta hurry before they close.”

  Mila laughs. “What kind of place closes this early?”

  “You’ll see.” I open the door for her, letting her slide inside my bae. My ‘Bach. “When’s your curfew at?”

  “Fuck you, old man.”

  I’m chuckling as I close the door, sealing her inside. Sealing my fate because now there’s no going back, is there? We’ve kissed. Twice. We’re pushing every boundary we’ve got and it’s only a matter of time before we fuck up, but maybe that’s what I’m hoping for. I’m looking to fail with Mila. I know I shouldn’t fuck her and I’m going to try like hell not to, but it feels like a risk I have to take. Like the reward is more than I can walk away from, same way I go out on that field over and over again knowing I shouldn’t. I lie and I hide the problems that could keep me from what I want, but the biggest lies are the ones I tell myself.

  I can play.

  I can push through what’s wrong with me.

  I can walk away from Mila Greene.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MILA

  “Very funny,” I drone. “You’re hilarious.”

  Tyus puts his car in park, killing the engine. He’s seriously stopping here.

  I shake my head at the big yellow building. “No.”

  “Yep.”

  “You asshole. This is not where we’re eating dinner.”

  “I hear they have good pizza.”

  “And headlice.” I jab my finger at the neon Chuck E. Cheese sign looming over us. “This is where you take your niece for her fourth grade graduation. This is not where you take a woman on a date.”

  “Our options are limited. I can’t take you anywhere with a bar.”

  “I hate you.”

  “We could go to McDonald’s, I guess. Do you like Happy Meals?”

  I glare at his smug, smiling face. “I will break your dick off, dude. I swear.”

  “You really don’t want to eat here?” he laughs.

  “You really want to lose your dick before you’ve had a chance to fuck me with it?”

  Tyus shakes his head hard. “I do not.”

  “Then no, I do not want to eat at Chuck E. Goddamn Cheese.”

  “So picky,” he mutters as he restarts the car.

  “You’re killing me tonight, Tyus.”

  He puts his hand on my leg, sliding it just high enough to nudge at the bottom of my dress. “I know the feeling, Mila.”

  The steadiness of his hand on my thigh is infuriating. If he’d just move it an inch higher… But he takes it away to turn a corner, bringing us back onto the freeway, and I feel cold without it. I feel light, like I’m floating, and I miss the reassuring weight of it. Of him.

  “Are you thinking of ways to kill me?” he asks curiously.

  I smile, shaking my head. “If you’re good, I won’t have to.”

  “I’m not so good at being good around you.”

  “Yo
u’re doing better than you think.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it.”

  “You could quit trying,” I taunt him with a sly smile. “It’s more fun if you just give up.”

  “You want me to be bad?”

  “If it means you’ll fuck me, sure. Why not?”

  His mouth rises on one side. It’s not a smile or a smirk. More of a thoughtful pursing that feels a little judgmental from here.

  “What?” I ask.

  Tyus shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  “That look is not ‘nothing’.” I turn in my seat to face him. “Go ahead. Say what you’re thinking.”

  He glances at me, gauging me. “You can stop with the sexy shit. That’s what I was thinking.”

  “What sexy shit?”

  “‘Fuck me, Tyus’,” he quotes drolly. “‘Don’t be chivalrous. Just fuck me.’ ‘You’ll lose your dick before you have a chance to fuck me with it.’ I get it, baby. I want you too, more than you know, but you gotta stop with that shit.”

  “‘That shit’ is who I am.”

  “That shit is the game. It’s not you.”

  “You don’t know that because you don’t know me,” I reply hotly.

  His hands shift on the steering wheel, loosening like he’s relaxing, and the fact that he’s feeling chill when I’m revving up is maddening.

  “I’m tryin’ to get to know you, Mila,” he says softly. “That’s why I’m asking you to cool it.”

  “It doesn’t sound like asking. It sounds like a lecture.”

  “Alright, I’ll ask.” He offers me his hand in the space halfway between us. “Will you put sex on pause and talk to me? Please?”

  I stare at his palm that’s staring up at me expectantly. I trace the lines inside it that race from one side to the other, up and down, around and around, until I’m dizzy. I’m confused and angry and softening like butter, but why? And why do I actually put my hand in his?

  He grins as he threads his fingers through mine. The expression is so gorgeous; built of stark white teeth and smooth black skin. High cheekbones and an assertive jawline that makes my fingers itch to trace it. “Thank you.”

  I smile, feeling unsure. “Yeah. No problem.”

  “You got anything you want to talk about?”

  I look at him hard, like, Really?

  Tyus laughs. He squeezes my hand gently. “Alright, fine. I’ll go. Where are your parents from? You said they’re Southern?”

  “Mama is from Alabama. Daddy is from Mississippi. Mama’s family never had a dime but Daddy’s family has always had money. He was born into it. Uncle Grant pissed his part of the fortune away while Daddy built his up. He’s richer than my grandparents now.”

  “And your mom’s family?”

  “Still dirt poor. They don’t want Daddy’s money. They don’t like him.”

  “Why not?”

  “‘Cause they’re stubborn,” is all I’ll say, but there’s more to it than that. A lot more. The truth is, they don’t like that Daddy took Mama away. She’s delicate, they said. She needs to be close to family. But Mama didn’t want to stay in Alabama in a double wide living with her parents her whole life. She wanted to marry a man she loved and live in a mansion overlooking Los Angeles. The decision doesn’t exactly sound crazy to me, but whenever Gammy talks about Mama, that’s the word she always uses – crazy.

  Last year at Christmas I heard her use it when she was talking to Gamps about me. I haven’t looked her in the eye since.

  “My whole family is fucking stubborn,” I add irritably. “Or am I not allowed to use that word in any context?”

  “You can say it however you want, Mila,” he replies enduringly.

  “What about you and your family? You’ve got a sister, right? And a nephew?”

  “Tia and Eli, yeah.”

  “How old?”

  “She wouldn’t want me to say.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t be annoying.”

  “Eight,” he chuckles. “Eli is eight.”

  “Cute kid?”

  “Yeah, if you like kids. But the way you reacted to the restaurant, I’m starting to think you don’t.”

  I let my head fall back against the seat. “I was annoyed with you, not kids.”

  “What about Chuck?”

  “Fuck Chuck.”

  Tyus laughs again. I love that sound. It fills the dark space of the warm car like oxygen. Like rich cigar smoke from a Cuban you’re not supposed to have but the rules don’t always apply to you. Not if you don’t let them.

  “Do you like kids?” he asks.

  “Yeah, of course I do. They’re a lot cooler than adults most of the time. You do a lot of charity work with them, don’t you? You, Trey, and Colt?”

  “I try to.”

  “What happened to your accent?”

  He chuckles at how quickly I shifted gears. “Three years in Michigan beat the accent out of me.”

  “Three years,” I muse. “I forgot about that. You skipped your senior year to enter the Draft as a junior.”

  “I was ready.”

  “Yes, you were,” I agree wholeheartedly.

  “You saw me play my rookie year?”

  I smile proudly. “I’ve seen every Kodiak’s rookie year for the last ten years. Ever since Daddy bought the team.”

  “That’s when you decided to be GM?”

  “That’s when I knew it was my destiny to be the Kodiak’s GM,” I correct him.

  “That’s a big goal. It’ll take time to get there.”

  “That’s what my therapist said. ‘Be realistic in your dreams,’ she always warned me. Drove me crazy and that’s kind of ironic, right? Your therapist making you nuts?”

  “You see a therapist?”

  “I’ve seen a lot of therapists. I’m not seeing one right now, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t need one, according to Daddy.” I look at him sideways. “I’m all cured, can’t you tell?”

  “I’m not a doctor,” he replies without feeling.

  His tone makes my chest tighten painfully.

  Fuck. I’m scaring him.

  Why did I bring up my therapy shit? He’s going to think I’m too crazy, too young, too off limits. There’s only so many red flags he can ignore before he can’t deal with me anymore, and I keep throwing them up in his face. I hassled him about the Senator at Target and basically called him a molester because I’m a total bitch and I can’t stop myself from doing that shit. And I know exactly why.

  “My parents didn’t set a lot of limits when I was a kid,” I tell him hurriedly, releasing his hand. I keep my eyes on the road and knot my fingers together tightly in my lap, like I’m holding myself together somehow. “Anything I wanted, they gave me. If I did anything wrong, I was forgiven. It was fun. I thought. But then when I got older I…” I frown, not sure how to explain it. “I felt scared sometimes, I guess.”

  “Scared of what?” Tyus asks. His voice is perfectly even, totally without judgement, and I think that’s on purpose. It’s an effort.

  “I don’t know. My therapist said I acted out because I was looking for limits. I never had them as a kid and she said that I felt like I needed them as an adult. That’s why I started doing the stuff I did. To find boundaries.”

  “Like getting arrested for streaking the field at a Seahawk’s game?”

  “Yeah. But then the next morning Daddy had bailed me out and he bought the rights to the video and we never talked about it again.”

  Tyus glances at me briefly. That one look sends me tumbling head over ass into his eyes; twin pools of dark water warm as hot springs, and I immediately feel like I’m drowning. “Did you want to?”

  “I wanted him to be mad at me,” I laugh shakily. “I wanted someone to yell at me or something, but they didn’t. Mama got a migraine, Daddy went to work, and a month later I was busted for bringing cocaine into Dubai. They had me on, like, five felony counts or whatever. I was going away for a long
time. Daddy had to come get me. He paid a bunch of bribes and snuck me out before they transferred me to the real prison, but the jail I was in was enough. It was…” I wipe my sweating palms on my dress. “That’s when Mama stopped talking to me.”

  “Is she still not speaking to you?”

  “No, she does now. Dubai was a year ago. That’s when I changed. That was my limit. I scared myself straight and now I don’t drink anymore. I stopped doing drugs. I stopped hooking up with guys.” I smile weakly. “That’s probably why I’m so obsessed with getting on your dick. I haven’t gotten laid in over a year.”

  “Shit,” he grunts.

  “Yeah, it’s been awhile.”

  “No, I meant ‘shit’ about the Dubai jail.”

  I close my eyes, feeling like a freak. Of course he meant jail. “Right.”

  We’re both quiet for a long time. It’s probably five minutes but it feels like an hour before he finally asks, “Are you okay?”

  I open my eyes to look at him. To face whatever damage I’ve done. “Yeah. I’m good. Are you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If you want to take me back to my car, I get it.”

  Tyus shakes his head. “I don’t want to take you back.”

  “I’m a lot. I know it. It’s fine.”

  “I’m tough,” he promises. He casts me a quick, wry smile that lights up the night like moonlight. “Almost as tough as you. I can handle ‘a lot’.”

  “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “Oh, I think you’re definitely crazy,” he laughs. “But I like it. I’m into it. This is what I wanted when I asked you to talk to me. I want to get to know you, and this is you. And I like you, okay?”

  It’s not okay. It’s better than okay. It’s worse and better and so fucking confusing I can’t see straight for a second. My eyes go unfocused on the lights that blur by us on the highway at a speed that’s perfectly safe but feels too fast to survive. Everything is on fast forward and pause and I can’t keep up. I can’t keep track.

  I don’t know how to be with him. He doesn’t let me do my usual thing, but that’s good, right? I’m supposed to try to be better. I’m trying to be something more solid than the ghost I was a year ago, but it’s confusing for me. He tells me to slow down and be real but half the time I don’t know what those words mean. I don’t know how to live like that. But I think I want to. I at least want to see if I can, and I definitely want to try it with him because it feels like we’re becoming a thing, even though we shouldn’t. I could lose everything. If Daddy finds out about this, I’ll never get the team. I’ll never be GM. It’s a lot to put on the line for a hot guy. You can’t swing a dick in L.A. without hitting a hottie, so why am I so hung up on this one? What makes Tyus Anthony so special that I’ll give up just about anything to sleep with him?