“Would you just go already?”
Spinning around I found Logan staring at me with a knowing smile.
“I am.”
“Good! And don’t fuck this up. I’m counting on you.”
“What?”
“I bet on you. I do not want to fucking lose!” Logan threatened with a grin.
If he was the dickface that bet on me, then I wanted to know the stakes. Depending on the consequences I may even sway the results. Teach him a fucking lesson. “Who’d you bet?”
“Tash.”
“And what were the terms?”
“If Emma punches you in the face, I win a blow job.”
“And I reckon she’s going to junk-punch you,” Tash confirmed with a shrug, not feeling at all guilty that either way, I’d be the one in pain.
“What do you get if you win?” I asked Tash, knowing her well enough to stack the deck in her favour.
“When I win, Logan here becomes my bitch boy for the entire length of our honeymoon.”
I fucking exploded. How could I not? That was the dumbest, most wasteful bet I’d ever heard. Leaning down, I whispered into Tash’s ear, “Girl, you screwed that up. We both know he’s going to be your bitch boy for life. Is that what the ring on his finger means? Should’ve asked for that new car you’ve been dreaming about.” I stepped back, winked at Tash, loving the look on her face; the perfect combination of stunned and pissed off, before heading over to where Emma was now dancing with the mystery guy. His hands were on her hips. Not for fucking long, mate. Even if I had to break every one of his fingers, no one touched what was mine.
Trying to calm my boiling blood, I skirted around people on my way to where they were practically fucking on the makeshift dance floor. Whether she was doing it on purpose or not, little Miss Emma Hardy was driving me insane.
Closing in on them, I could see her fingers resting on his shoulders, but it was his hands which were making me see red. They were low on her hips holding her against him.
“Emma.” My voice came out menacing and low, her head flicking around as she glared at me.
“Oh! Bryce. Hi. You scared me. Have you met Troy?” Emma introduced the man who had his stupid hands on her.
“Troy.” I nodded gruffly. I didn’t care what his name was. He was inconsequential. The only reason his name was even in the story was because he was in my way. Something I was going to change ASAP.
Ignoring him, I focused on Emma. Up close she was even more stunning. I’d seen her first thing in the morning, I’d seen her freshly fucked, and I’d seen her walking along the beach. On each occasion she was stunning. But today, with her hair pinned back off her face, her eyes dark and smoky and that plunging neckline…wow! Just wow! I couldn’t really blame Troy or Tony or whatever the hell his name was for circling like a hawk.
“Em, can I talk to you for a moment?” Wiping my hands on my thighs, I realised how nervous I was. Glancing over my shoulder I spied Logan and Tash staring at me.
“I’m busy,” Emma replied, turning back to the Neanderthal she was wrapped up in.
“Em. It’s important. Please?” Now I was begging, and I couldn’t care less who saw me.
I think the bonehead she’d been dancing with felt sorry for me. He reached up and untangled her hands from around his neck. “I’ll give you two a second. Sounds like your boyfriend wants to talk to you.”
Emma’s head snapped back so violently I was impressed that it was still attached. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she seethed, and I could practically hear her grinding her teeth over the music.
“I am,” I offered with a shrug.
“You are not. He isn’t.”
“I don’t want to get in the middle of…whatever this is.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Bryce, tell him you’re not my boyfriend. I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was seventeen for god’s sake.”
Her panties were definitely in a twist right now. Maybe Tash would win her stupid bet after all.
“I’m gonna go get a drink,” he murmured before walking away. I watched him turn and go, like it didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t walking away from the best thing that’d ever happened to him. Idiot. He didn’t deserve her if it was so easy to leave her.
“Dance with me,” I said, grabbing Emma’s hand before she ran off and away from me.
“No.”
“Come on, Em. Don’t be like that. We’re friends.” I tried to placate her but as fury covered her features, I realised my words were having the opposite effect.
“Friends? Friends? Is that what you think we are?” Emma asked, her voice rising.
Knowing she was about to unleash whatever torrent was coming my way, I pulled her by the hand and led her down the beach. If she was going to kick my arse, I’d prefer not to be in front of a crowd. Especially one that’d take great pleasure in seeing that happen.
“Stop! Where are you taking me?”
“Just down here a bit so we can talk,” I confirmed as she dug her heels into the sand. “Come on, Em.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere with you. Especially in the dark and especially when no one knows where I am. I have people who care about me. People who worry about me. They need to know I’m okay.”
She was drunk. Or maybe not quite drunk but definitely tipsy. This could be a bloody disaster.
“Logan and Tash know where you are and who you’re with. I’m not going to hurt you, Em. I’d never hurt you.”
“You already did! And stop calling me Em. My name is Emma. Only my friends call me Em.”
Giving up on getting her any farther away, I sunk down in the sand, tugging her down beside me. “I am your friend, Em.”
“Well you’re a shitty friend,” she huffed, folding her arms over her chest almost popping her tits straight out the deep ‘V’ in the front.
“I… I…”
“Bryce, you’re a nice guy but you fucked up. When you hurt yourself, I tried to make sure you were okay. I wasn’t being clingy. I wasn’t trying to claim you or whatever other bullshit excuse you want to pretend it was. I knew we weren’t together. I’m not a complete moron. But I saw you hurt yourself, I saw my friend hurt himself and I wanted to know he was okay. So, what did I do? I called a couple of times. Left messages. Sent a few texts and you didn’t even reply. I was getting my updates from the internet. Do you know how much that hurt?”
I gulped deeply but had no words. Everything she said, everything she was accusing me of was one hundred percent spot on. But apparently, she wasn’t done.
“It took you four days, Bryce. Four fucking days to reply to my worried texts, and you know what you said? Do you remember? I do. One word. One damn word. ‘Sore’. That’s it. That’s all I got. Then it went downhill from there. So, tell me, why are you killing my buzz right now? Isn’t there someone else whose night you can go and ruin?”
“Why? So, you can get back to Tony?” I spat out angrily.
The truth was I wasn’t angry at Emma, I was angry at myself. I’d fucked up. Not once. Not twice. But over and over again. She had every right to get up and walk away from me. I was just praying she didn’t.
“Fuck you, Bryce,” Emma snarled. “What do you even care? You’ve got Madeline-I’m-A-Bitch-Whore-Higgins warming your bed for all I know, so you get no say in who I’m screwing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EMMA
I was acting like a brat. I could hear the bitchiness in my words, but I didn’t care. Bryce was an idiot if he thought it was a good idea to ruin my night, especially after I’d been drinking. Whether or not he was ready for it, he was going to hear the truth. Between the hours getting poked and prodded trying to make me beautiful, the few too many glasses of champagne to give me enough liquid courage to step out in public in this dress, then spending hours in the sun sipping cocktails that tasted like the most delicious juice I’d ever had, my patience was shot and my bullshit tolerance, non-existent.
He’d been watching me from
the moment he checked in at the resort. He might have thought he was being super sleuth and that I didn’t know, but I could feel him staring at me everywhere I went. I should’ve hated it. I wanted to hate it, but I just couldn’t. Instead, I started tormenting him. Ditching my one-piece bathing suit for a skanky, skimpy one I’d purchased at the gift shop.
“Madeline and I are—”
“I don’t care. I don’t,” I lied. I did care. I cared way too much but the last thing I was about to do was admit that to him. Instead I tugged up my bitchy pants and kept the insults flying. I had to hide behind something. “What you do with that fake-boobed, duck-face bimbo is completely up to you. None of my business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the century.
I went to stand up and wobbled as the sand moved under my feet. I managed to make it three steps down the beach before I was hoisted up over Bryce’s shoulder, his huge hand resting on my arse as he carried me away from the twinkling lights and the music floating on the breeze.
“Put me down!” I demanded, kicking my legs.
My view of Bryce’s arse clad in his khaki pants wasn’t helping my resolve. I could smell his expensive cologne. It was one I loved and may have bought myself a bottle to keep at home.
Whack!
He slapped my butt!
In public.
While it was sticking up in the air.
He’d slapped me.
Stunned, I stopped wriggling for a second before biting down on his perky butt. When he grunted, I knew I wasn’t the only one getting worked up.
Beneath me, the sand turned into concrete and I held on a little tighter. The last thing I needed was to fall arse over tit and end up in the hospital. It was getting brighter and brighter with each step and the chatter around us getting louder. I did not want people to see me like this.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded.
“Somewhere where I can talk, and you can listen.”
Bryce was bossy. Dominating. Commanding. And so completely fucking sexy my brain was turning to mush. Even though I’d resolved myself to the fact I’d eventually have to face him, I’d made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t fall for his charming bullshit ever again.
His grip tightened around my legs and I gave up the fight. It wasn’t like I was in a battle I could win. He slowed our pace, climbed some steps then halted. I was jostled, his shoulder bones digging into me uncomfortably. Then we were stepping inside, and I saw the door slam shut before I was dumped on the bed where I bounced on the fresh-smelling sheets.
Scrambling, I tried to get up, but Bryce’s hands found my knees, steadying me. I hated my traitorous body as goose pimples covered my skin. Praying Bryce didn’t notice, I knew I hadn’t gotten away with it when he rubbed his thumb back and forth.
“Right. You ready to listen?” Bryce challenged.
No. Hell no. No freaking way. “Guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” I grumbled reluctantly.
“First things first. Madeline Higgins…”
“Whorebag,” I coughed.
“Heard that.” Bryce smiled at me in a way that set the butterflies in my stomach soaring.
“Meant you to.”
“Putting that aside. Madeline and I aren’t anything more than childhood friends. Our families have known each other for as long as I can remember, and I grew up with Maddy. She was very different then. I took her to the charity gala because Mum asked me to. You’ve met my Mum. Do you have any idea how hard it is to say no to her?”
He probably had a point. Marley was a force to be reckoned with.
“Okay,” I agreed, trying to keep my facial expression neutral.
“As for my lack of response, my lack of care…my—”
“Ghosting?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“It’s how I’m looking at it.”
“I don’t have an excuse to give you. Not an acceptable one anyway.”
That hurt. I was hoping he had some deep and meaningful reason why he’d turned into a twat the moment I boarded the plane and left Adelaide. But at least he was being honest. I guess that was something.
“When you left, I was lost.”
“You think I wasn’t?” I shrieked, losing the calm I’d been determined to hold on to.
“I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. I wasn’t looking for you. But then you climbed into my bed in Melbourne and I couldn’t shake the feeling that you were something special. Then I fucked up. I didn’t get your number.”
“I wasn’t exactly shoving it down your throat, either.”
If Bryce was going to lay himself bare, the least I could do was admit my own faults and shoulder some of the blame. This one was a shared stuff up. Others weren’t. But this one was.
“Then I was in Sydney and I nearly messed that up too when Madeline showed up at breakfast being her typical stuck up bitch.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, you let me redeem myself. And when you rang and said you wanted to come visit, I had hope. We had an incredible time. I had so much fun and it wasn’t until you left, and I was sitting there by myself that I realised you meant more to me than I was ready to admit.”
“Shit!” I whispered.
I hadn’t been expecting that.
“So, if you like me why the fuck did you ignore me?” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. His heavy confession was killing my buzz. I wondered if I could order another cocktail. Those Pina Coladas were going down a treat earlier. What I wouldn’t give for another right now.
“Because I’m an idiot. Okay? Because I screwed up. Because I didn’t know what to say to you. I knew nothing could come of it. You didn’t want a relationship and I wasn’t about to force you into one. Especially a long distance one.”
Bryce stood up and paced around the room as he spoke. His arms were flailing everywhere. He was waving so hard there was a very good chance that he was going to take flight any minute now.
“I never said that,” I spluttered quietly.
“You didn’t have to, Em. We lived half a continent apart. I had nothing to offer you.”
“Geez, you’re full of yourself. Did I ever once ask for more?”
“Well no but…”
“Then stop thinking you know what I want.”
“Well, tell me then, what do you want?” It was the first time Bryce actually sounded unsure of himself.
“A drink. I need a drink.” I sighed, reaching up to pull the pins from my hair and dropping them with a ping onto the wooden floorboards.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked, peering into the mini fridge.
“Shouldn’t we head back to the party? Surely someone is looking for us.”
“No one’s looking for me. Besides, I’d rather hang out with you.”
Bryce pulled out a beer and I shook my head. Beer on all that milk and juice was sure to have my head in the toilet. Next, he pulled out a bottle of champagne. It too would probably hurt my head and at some point, I was sure I’d end up regretting it, but it was my best option. Nodding, Bryce stood up, popped the cork and poured me a glass.
When he handed it over, our fingers touched, and I almost forgot all the reasons I was pissed at him. If only it was that easy. Gulping down the entire glass in one go, he raised his eyebrow but stayed silent as he refilled me.
For a moment we sat in silence, looking everywhere but at each other. Outside I could hear the music and the waves crashing on the shore. Fiji was a magnificent place. So relaxing. So inviting. Between my daily trips to the spa, the swim-up pool bar and the food served, I was in heaven. I had no idea how I was going to even attempt to go back to reality in a few days. To wake up to the sound of sirens blaring or neighbours arguing instead of the waves was going to take some readjustment.
As I drained my second glass of bubbles, I blurted out the one question that’d been on my mind since Sienna basically stuffed the blurry images down
my throat. The one I promised myself I really didn’t care about regardless. Turns out, I was full of shit. “Why were you in Sydney?”
“When?”
“Couple of weeks ago. You were in Sydney. With Madeline.”
Even saying her name made me mad. And the fact that I was mad about it, made me even more cranky. It was a vicious loop I was stuck in. One I was starting to believe I’d never be able to fight my way past.
“Ah. That trip.”
“What’s that mean? That trip?”
“I’ve been back and forth to Sydney quite a bit since the season ended.”
“Visiting Madeline?”
I sounded jealous. Fuck that, I was jealous. I needed to get out of here. Standing up, I ignored the mess I’d made, hair pins and sand everywhere, set my glass down on the low cane coffee table, snagged the bottle of bubbles, or what was left of it anyway – I was going to need it to soothe the sting of envy – and headed out the door.
I made it two steps outside.
Two steps before I was grabbed by my hips, spun around and kissed as though my life depended on it. I think maybe it really did. Bryce’s kiss was punishing. He didn’t ask permission; he took what he wanted. Unapologetically. It was fucking hot. His fingers threaded through my hair, tugging on the knotted, hairspray-stiff strands, and I moaned. It was the only invitation he needed. His tongue snaked into my mouth and I lost the fight. Leaning into him, I could feel his throbbing need against my stomach, and I couldn’t hold back. Jumping, I knew he’d catch me. Bryce may have his faults, he may have a lot of them, but letting me fall wasn’t one of them.
When my legs wrapped around his hips, it was his turn to moan.
Pulling back, I missed the contact. Despite the fact I was wrapped around him like a vine, it still wasn’t enough. I needed more. I wanted more.
“Em. I’m going to carry you back inside. I’m going to fuck you until we’re both sweaty, panting and can’t feel our toes. If you don’t want that, then you need to say so now cause, sweetheart,” he reached up and pushed the hair out of my eyes, locking my gaze with his, “the moment I carry you through that door, you’re mine.”
Played: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Playing Games Book 2) Page 23
