Play Hard

by V. K. Sykes

  Kid? No effing way. Billie withdrew her tongue and suckled on his bottom lip, her eyes open once more so she could watch him. So he would know she was playing with him.

  So he would know that she was in control.

  She felt his hesitation. She saw it in his eyes. And just when she would have faltered—because really, what the hell was she thinking? Playing with Logan Forest was like playing with fire and Lord knows she’d already been burned—Logan’s hands moved to her hips and he took over.

  She might have squealed. Or moaned. Or shouted for joy. Who knows? Her head was filled with white noise and her heart was beating so fast and hard that she could have danced the freaking Salsa all the way across Michigan and back, no problem.

  He pulled her flush against his body so that not only were her breasts crushed to his chest, her hips were held in place, there where he was hard and heavy and, really, really big. His large hands splayed across her butt, and a riot of sensation erupted between her legs, rushing through her bloodstream and pounding into her heart. Warning bells rang in her head and she tried to wriggle away, suddenly okay with the fact that she’d made a mistake. A huge freaking mistake. She’d blame this epic move on her lack of sleep.

  Lack of morals, more like.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked silkily, though there was a hint of rasp beneath his words.

  “I…” was all she managed to get out. “This…I shouldn’t—”

  “No,” he replied, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have started this, but I sure as hell don’t have a problem finishing it.”

  With one hand on her ass, his other slid up to the base of her neck and she closed her eyes as his warm breath rolled over her cheek. Goosebumps peppered her skin and she shuddered uncontrollably.

  Idiot.

  Dumb. Idiot.

  He hovered over her mouth for what seemed like, forever; then he leaned down and slid his mouth over hers.

  Logan now controlled the kiss, and each lazy draw on her tongue made her head spin. Slowly, he delved deeper, his taste and feel making her weak. He held her in place so she couldn’t move, but really, did she want to? She felt his erection and all sorts of naughty thoughts entered her mind. She saw naked bodies. Tattoos and straining muscles. Skin on skin.

  When his mouth left hers to trail a line of fire down the side of her neck she couldn’t hide the groan that fell from her lips. She was pliant in his arms and wanted nothing more than to let the feelings coursing through her continue. If she could bottle these sensations, she could sell them and make a fortune.

  Logan was like a drug. An addictive, wholly male, sexy-as-hell drug, and as she spread her legs slightly as she arched her back so that his mouth had access to the valley between her breasts, she surrendered to the insatiable need and desire that ran through her. It was one that had burned for years.

  “Christ, we shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured against her skin, his tongue tracing a path that would lead directly to her nipple. All he had to do was…

  Shit.

  He tugged her shirt down.

  And she let him.

  He pushed her bra aside.

  And she let him do that too.

  Liquid fire pulsed between her legs and she rolled her hips against him, hissing…maybe crying? Moaning for sure.

  Cool morning air slid across her now bared breast and when his tongue teased and licked her there, her legs gave out. But that big hand was still on her butt and he held her steady, his fingers digging in, massaging…caressing.

  They were both breathing heavy, leaning against the truck and for one crazy second Billie thought that maybe they could hop in the back and he could assuage the ache between her legs in the only way she knew would help.

  His tongue flickered over her nipple again and when he closed his mouth overtop of it, when he suckled and groaned into her flesh…she let him. Out here, in the driveway.

  When he blew a hot breath on her now wet flesh, she groaned so loudly that it startled her. Chest heaving, she dug her hands into his hair and forced his head back.

  “We can’t,” she could barely get the words out.

  Logan’s eyes were shuttered and for a moment he stared down at her in silence. Carefully, his fingers flickered over her nipple—a gentle swipe and tease—and he pulled her bra back into place so that her T-shirt fell back.

  His strong jaw was shadowed with a day’s worth of stubble and she hated that it made him sexier than ever. His hair, mussed from her fingers, had that ‘I just rolled out of bed look’ and his dark eyes glistened with something that looked like hunger.

  “I get it,” he said slowly.

  “What?” she answered breathlessly. Billie was still stuck to Logan, every inch of his hard body pressed into hers but she didn’t have the strength to pull away.

  A smile curved that sexy mouth of his and something inside her stilled. Oh, the power this man had. What would it be like to wake up to that smile every single morning?

  Okay, where did that thought come from?

  Her cheeks heated even more, if that was possible, and she bit her lip as confusion and anxiety rolled around inside her. She ached everywhere, all the nooks and crannies that made up her body were empty and hollow. Unsatisfied.

  His eyes rolled over her face in a slow, sensual, way that felt like a caress.

  “You’re definitely not a kid.”

  The wind picked up, lifting long strands of her hair into the air. She stared up at Logan for several long moments, nothing but silence between them, and then she pushed against his chest, wanting some space.

  “Logan, I…” she licked her dry lips and tried to form a coherent sentence. “I don’t know why I just did that.”

  “I’m not going to say I’m sorry you did.”

  Her breath caught at the look in his eyes. It was enough to singe every single hair on her body.

  He straightened and ran his hands through his hair, which only managed to mess it up even more. “But I don’t play games, Billie.”

  She swallowed thickly, not sure where this was headed.

  “Were you with Shane last night?” he asked, his gaze direct, all traces of desire gone.

  For a moment she was confused, but when his meaning took hold, she opened her mouth to retort angrily. She’d give Logan Forest a piece of her mind. Did he really think she’d sleep with Shane Gallagher and then play tongue tag with him the next morning? That was a Betty move, not hers.

  Billie opened her mouth to do just that, but a voice slid between them. A weak, hoarse, and oh-so-familiar voice.

  “Chantal?”

  A confused and angry voice.

  “Move away from my wife or I’ll kill you.”

  Billie’s eye widened and she glanced over her shoulder just as a vehicle pulled in behind Logan’s truck. Gerald Dooley’s. Even through the glare of sunlight on the windshield, she saw Bobbi’s thunderous face. Great. Could this get any worse?

  She stepped out of Logan’s arms and turned…just as her father stumbled down the front steps, a shotgun aimed at Logan and a crazed look in his eyes.

  Just as her grandfather rushed out onto the porch, feet encased in wooly slippers—the ones with the big beaver heads that wobbled when he walked. His pale belly jiggled, prominently displayed over his green and red Christmas boxers—the Grinch smiling viciously at them all.

  They were two sizes too big and currently hanging so low she was afraid they would drop down to his knees.

  She blinked.

  Exhaled.

  They slid.

  As the boxers slowly slipped down Herschel’s hips Billie closed her eyes. If her life was a reality show, this would be the big finale. The money shot, so to speak.

  You really could not make this shit up.

  Chapter Eight

  For a moment no one spoke. Not one word was uttered as Herschel yanked his boxers back up to where they belonged and scratched his head. He pulled his ball cap in place
and settled his hands on his hips as he slowly perused the situation.

  “Well, I’ll be goddamned,” he muttered and took a step down, but paused when his son, Trent Barker, shot him a warning look.

  Billie took a step forward, aware that Bobbi and Gerald had exited his truck. She held her hands out in front of her, cleared her throat and spoke cautiously.

  “Dad, it’s me. Billie.”

  Her father’s eyes moved from Logan and he frowned, obviously confused and more than a little agitated. Billie held her hands out, “Dad?” She wasn’t afraid of the rifle. She knew the chamber was empty, but Logan sure as hell didn’t and she heard him swear softly as he tried to move in front of her.

  Billie sidestepped him, Bobbi now at her side. “It’s us, Dad,” her sister said softly. “Why don’t you go back inside? It’s cold out here.”

  Herschel was now abreast of his son, and the pain in her grandfather’s eyes nearly did Billie in. It hurt to see her father like this, but what did it feel like for Herschel? No parent should have to watch their offspring suffer and deteriorate. Not like this.

  Trent Barker squeezed his eyes shut and ran a trembling hand over his temple. His whole body shuddered. He seemed so frail, so tired, and just…old.

  Eventually her father lowered his rifle. “Billie, when did you get home?”

  Relief washed through her and she offered a small smile. She’d been home for nearly two weeks and this was the first time her father had called her by name.

  “I got home…a while ago.”

  Her father’s brows furled. “Is it off season?” He glanced at the trees, saw the fall foliage. “Shouldn’t you be at college? What’s going on?” His voice rose as did his agitation.

  Billie opened her mouth but Bobbi spoke before she had the chance. “Billie’s just home for a quick visit, Dad. No worries.”

  Their father stared at both the girls and then he glanced at Logan. “Who’s he?” he asked gruffly, his expression bordering on confused, though his pride kept his chin up. It broke her heart.

  Her grandfather cleared his throat, but Billie saw the tears that glistened in his eyes and her own welled up.

  Daddy…

  An image of her father bent over, tying her skates rolled through her mind...

  She remembered the quiet encouragement in his eyes. The way they crinkled when he smiled. The scent of coffee. Mint toothpicks. The warm hand on her back before every game.

  She exhaled slowly and it was a few seconds until she could speak. “This is my…friend, Logan.” She paused. “You remember Logan Forest don’t you? His family owns the veterinary clinic in town.”

  Trent’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. “You’re Max’s son?”

  “Yes, sir.” Logan answered quietly.

  “Dad,” Bobbi moved forward, Gerald at her side. “Why don’t you go inside with Gramps?”

  Herschel was beside his son and gently tugged the rifle from Trent’s hands. There was no resistance. There was nothing really. It was as if the fire inside Trent Barker had burned bright for only a moment and then it was gone.

  The lump in Billie’s throat was huge as she watched her grandfather slip her dad’s hand into his. The two men turned and shuffled up the porch steps—one an older version of the other, both dejected. They disappeared inside the house as the October sun shone brightly in their wake.

  “Unbelievable.” Bobbi’s voice was sharp with insinuation. Condemnation.

  Billie tensed, not really up for a battle just now. She’d never felt this low. Not even when she’d woken up in hospital after her concussion had it been this awful. She felt like she was in the middle of a storm with no safe haven…as if she didn’t fit anywhere.

  “Bobbi, I can’t do this right now.”

  “Of course you can’t, but do I care? Billie, how could you?”

  Her sister moved until she stood inches from Billie’s face. For once Bobbi didn’t look put together. Her hair was clipped haphazardly on top of her head, with day old makeup smeared beneath her eyes—eyes that were bloodshot. Her yellow track suit was top of the line, the label, Lulu Lemon—an import from Canada—but she’d pulled on slippers instead of running shoes. One of her earrings was missing, and was that dried toothpaste in the corner of her mouth?

  If Billie wasn’t feeling so crappy she’d have been all over that. As it was, there was no fight in her and it took everything inside Billie to not break down. She couldn’t do that. Not in front of her sister. Not in front of Gerald Dooley.

  And especially not in front of Logan.

  He was still behind her. She couldn’t see him, but she sure as hell felt him.

  “Bobbi, maybe this isn’t a good time,” Gerald said carefully.

  Bobbi ignored him and though Billie welcomed his effort, she knew Gerald wasn’t man enough for her sister. If Billie wasn’t so down she’d appreciate the fire that burned inside Bobbi, but she didn’t want to deal with her sister’s anger. Not now.

  Maybe not ever.

  “I left you in charge for one night.” Bobbi held up her hand, index finger pointed at Billie. “One night and I come home to this?”

  “Bobbi, I—”

  “Don’t Bobbi, me.” Her sister was livid. “You had one thing to do. One thing! Make sure Dad was all right.” She whirled around and nodded toward Logan. “Instead you don’t even come home? You stay out all night with him? Are you kidding me?”

  Her sister’s tone touched something inside Billie and a spark of indignation erupted. Indignation, hurt, and a whole lot of other stuff she’d been bottling up for days. Bobbi had no idea what had transpired over the last twelve hours. Or over the last few months. None at all.

  In fact, neither one of her sisters had even asked about the concussion and subsequent end to her career. When had their family become so fractured?

  “Are you really gonna go there with me?” Billie fisted her hands.

  “Girls—” Gerald began.

  “Shut-up!” They both shouted.

  Billie took a step toward Bobbi and something in her eyes must have warned her sister that Billie was a little unstable because she moved back. All the crap Billie had dealt with over the last week—the snide comments and innuendoes. The lack of focus. The anxiety over not knowing where her life was going. The fear she had for her father and how ill prepared she felt about his deteriorating condition.

  The kiss she’d just shared with the one man she’d wanted to avoid.

  All of it rushed through Billie and she trembled from its enormity. The storm that swirled around her was suddenly raging and there was no way she could keep it at bay. It was too big.

  “Don’t you dare get all high and mighty with me, Bobbi-Jo.” She thrust her chin out as Bobbi’s eyes flashed. Her sister hated her full name and Billie knew it.

  “Why not?” Bobbi rasped. “Someone has to.” She glanced toward the house and then swung back, her eyes hard. “You’ve been home for what, two weeks? And what have you done but stir up trouble with your stupid idea to play hockey with a bunch of men. You’ve done nothing about your future. You’ve contributed nothing to this household. Nothing.”

  Billie’s face warmed when she heard Logan shuffle his feet.

  “You can’t even be trusted to look after Dad!”

  “That’s bull—” but she couldn’t get a word in. As much as she was living inside a storm, Billie saw the same thing reflected in her sister’s eyes.

  “You were practically having sex in the freaking driveway and Dad was on a rampage with a fucking rifle in his hands.”

  “It’s not my fault Dad—”

  “Nothing’s ever your fault is it?” Bobbi sneered.

  A strangled sound fell from Billie’s lips and she clenched her hands, wanting to plow her sister in her perfect and righteous nose. She took a step closer.

  ““And I suppose your tongue just happened to fall into Logan Forest’s mouth?” Bobbi continued viciously. “All night long?”

&nbs
p; Billie saw red. Vivid, technicolor red. Her voice lowered as she leaned forward. From the corner of her eye she saw Gerald step back. Smart man.

  “Why do you care whose throat I shove my tongue down?”

  “Real classy,” Bobbi retorted.

  “Why are you home anyway?”

  Bobbi pointed toward the house. “I didn’t trust you with Dad and seems I was right.”

  “You’re so full of shit, Bobbi. You came home because your night with Dooley was a big fat dud. He spent all that money on a bed-and-breakfast and I bet he didn’t even get into your pants.”

  She could tell by the expression in her sister’s eyes that she’d hit the nail on the head.

  “I think it was a dud because you can’t stop obsessing over Shane Gallagher.”

  “Don’t you dare go there,” Bobbi’s voice was hoarse. “You don’t know anything about Shane and I.”

  But she was going to go there. And she was going to hammer it home hard.

  “I know that he happens to be the man I spent last night with.”

  Shocked silence followed Billie’s declaration and only after she took the time to appreciate Bobbi’s pained look, did she think about Logan. About the amazingly hot and delicious kiss they’d shared.

  About the fact that he wasn’t into playing games.

  About the fact that she’d just lied through her teeth.

  Sure she’d spent most of the night with Shane but they’d talked. Nothing inappropriate had occurred. Why would it? Shane Gallagher was still in love with her sister and judging by the hurt in Bobbi’s eyes, her feelings for the man ran a lot deeper than she wanted anyone to know.

  Maybe a lot deeper than she even realized.

  “Well, then,” Bobbi said as she turned toward the house. “I hope it was worth it.”

  Billie watched her sister march up the porch steps and disappear inside the house. She winced as the door slammed shut, heart beating madly against her chest. God she wanted to lean on something because her legs felt like noodles.

  Gerald cleared his throat and took a step toward the house, but thought better of it. He mumbled something, climbed into his truck and pulled away.