Play Rough

by Eva Ashwood

  I know I can’t trust Sloan, but not even Rory and Levi are safe to fall for like this. I don’t think they know anything about my dad, but that doesn’t matter. I can’t let it matter.

  There’s too much at stake, and I’m supposed to be taking them down. Ruining them. That’s the point of all this.

  But… fuck.

  Days like this make all of it so much more confusing. Not just the sex, but everything that came before.

  Piper.

  She’s Rory’s whole world, and I have to wonder what would happen if Rory got hurt or put in jail. If I help the Jackals take down the Black Roses, then that’s what could easily happen, right? Either he gets hurt in the fighting, maybe even killed, or the Black Roses lose their grip on Fairview Heights and the cops haul him off to prison for the things he’s done.

  And then Piper would be without a dad, just like I am.

  The thought makes something twist in my heart, and it’s not pleasant. I don’t want that for anyone else. Especially not Piper, sweet and still too young to really know anything other than the fact that her dad is her whole world. She’d still have Jen, but… but I’d know the reason why she wouldn’t have Rory to come over and pick her up and twirl her around the way she likes.

  God. Fucking. Dammit.

  I pull back a little from Rory, needing some space for a second, and he catches sight of the look on my face. I can only imagine I don’t look happy, and he frowns, clearly concerned.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  I wish he’d stop doing that. I wish he’d stop caring so much and making it even harder than it needs to be to do this. Every time he looks at me with those worried eyes, I just want to tell him everything, and I can’t. I’m building a web of lies and deceit, and I miss being at the zoo where I didn’t have to think about anything too much. Where all of this seemed a lot further away.

  I swallow and nod quickly, shutting down that line of thinking. If I want this to work, I just have to keep lying. I just have to go along with the plan I came up with and not let the feelings get to me.

  “Yeah,” I tell him, clearing my throat. “I’m fine. I’m just… confused, I guess. About what’s happening between us. And the others, too.”

  Something flashes across Rory’s face, and I wonder if it’s remorse.

  “Shit. Did I push too far?” he asks, and he sounds more sincere than I’m used to hearing him. “I didn’t… that wasn’t the plan, Hurricane. I just got carried away. You might be able to tell, but I want you. Really badly.”

  I think a blind person could tell at this point, and I shake my head, pushing away from him. He slides out of me with a wet sound, and there’s a second where my body feels lost for being empty all of a sudden.

  I look down and see the mess that we left, his release mingled with my own wetness. Fuck. We didn’t even use a condom. Didn’t even stop to think that far ahead. I’m on birth control and have been since I turned fifteen, but that’s not the point.

  Everything has spiraled so far out of control, and I feel like it’s all slipping out of my hands. My head is spinning, and my heart hurts. Whatever relief I might’ve gotten from the sex is long gone now, and I slide off the car, pulling my shirt down over my tits and hunting for my pants and underwear on the concrete floor of the garage.

  “Mercy?” Rory asks, and I realize I never really answered him.

  “No. You didn’t push too far,” I tell him, slipping my panties on and ignoring the way his cum is still sliding down my leg. “It’s not you, I promise. I just need some time to think.”

  That part isn’t even a lie. I wanted him in that moment just as much as he wanted me, and I never told him to stop once. Everything he did was something I practically begged for, and while my head is a mess, my body still feels that bone deep satisfaction from a good orgasm. So no, he isn’t to blame for this. It’s just me getting carried away and forgetting all the things I’m actually supposed to be doing.

  “Okay,” he says, nodding while he gets dressed as well. He drags his shirt back over his head last, cock already tucked away.

  That worried look is still on his face, though. The one that says he still thinks I’m upset about something he did. For a second, I wonder if that’s better, but even if it is, I don’t like it.

  I don’t want him to be worried or upset about this, especially since it’s not really his fault.

  I close the distance between us and lean up, kissing him quickly. It’s softer and lighter than the kisses we’ve been sharing lately, and I don’t let it linger at all. It’s still pretty stupid to do it. Stupid to care about how he feels when I’m trying to hurt him even worse in the long run.

  I can’t help myself, though.

  The connection between us flares from the second our lips meet, and it’s still there when I pull back, the way it always is. It would be so easy to lean into it, to chase that first kiss with another and let myself get carried away all over again. We could go up to his room or mine and have a repeat performance of what happened on the hood of his car. We could take our time, really explore each other, or go at it hard and fast.

  But no. No, that’s not a good idea, and I pull away from him before he can reach for me and try to kiss me again.

  I have to put some distance between us until I get my head back on straight, so I give him one last little smile and slip away into the house.

  13

  Monday comes before I’m ready for it, but after the weekend I had, it’s almost a relief. I go to class the way I always do, but I feel like I can’t focus at all.

  At the rate things are going, I’ll be getting the worst grades of my academic career this semester, and if it weren’t for the fact that I need to keep up appearances, I probably would’ve stopped coming to school at all.

  If I stare at my professors and really make myself listen to what they’re saying, I can manage to keep my attention on them for a few minutes, but it inevitably slips away before long, going back to the guys and my dad and the whole fucked up situation.

  I feel like I’m spiraling. I stayed in my room for most of the night last night, trying to get my head on straight, but I feel just as messed up and confused as I did before. I keep replaying the scene with Rory in the garage, from the way he touched and kissed me to the look on his face when he thought he’d fucked up. I can’t manage to get it out of my head, and nothing my professors have to say about English literature or sociology help at all.

  I pull out my phone as I sit in the back of the classroom and find my text thread with Scarlett. I’ve been worried about her knowing too much, but having someone who does know who I can talk to is a good thing.

  ME: I think I’m losing my mind.

  The reply comes just a few seconds later.

  SCAR: Why? What’s up?

  ME: The guys. My dad. Everything. I really fucked up this weekend.

  SCAR: What did you do?????????

  The extra question marks really sum up the situation.

  I glance up to make sure no one’s looking at me and then quickly give her the rundown of how the weekend went. I tell her about Sloan getting hurt, and me helping him and feeling conflicted about it. I tell her about the race and how Sloan and I nearly fucked in an alley of all places. And then about the zoo and Rory and the garage and how I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.

  Her message comes back pretty damn quickly considering the wall of text I sent her to get the whole story out.

  SCAR: You’re making them trust you. That was the plan, right?

  And it is the plan. I need them to believe they can trust me and tell me things, and it’s been working better than I hoped. But the problem is, I’m not just playing them anymore. My feelings are getting tangled up in this whole mess, and I tell Scarlett that. I have no idea what kind of insight she can even give to help me, but it feels good to tell someone at least. Just so that I’m not alone with it inside my own head.

  ME: Yeah. I just didn’t expect it to be like this
.

  SCAR: Sloan killed your dad. You don’t want to be with someone like that, right? The other two might be okay, but they’re part of this too. So that means they can never really be on your side.

  She’s right, of course. Sloan’s a murderer and the other two definitely won’t be willing to just leave him behind or turn their backs on the gang. That’s not how being in a gang works. So it’s a moot point, and I don’t know why I’m stressing out about it so much. Scar would never call me an idiot, but that’s what I’m being, probably.

  As if she can read my thoughts, Scarlett sends another text through a second later.

  SCAR: But I’m on your side no matter what, girl. You know that, right? Whatever you decide to do, I’m here for you.

  A small smile tugs at my lips. Having her say she supports me no matter what I decide to do is a nice feeling, and by the time I’m done with classes for the day, I feel a little better than I did before.

  When I get back to the house, I head up to my room, fully intending to faceplant on the bed for an hour or two before I have to face Levi and the other two again. I need to get better at keeping control over the situation before I go down there and talk to them. But when I open my door and step into the bedroom I’ve been staying in, I freeze at the sight of another dress laid out on my bed.

  The last time this happened, it was because the guys wanted me to go to a Black Roses party with them, and it did not end well, all things considered.

  That dress was red and slinky, and this one is a deep, dark blue and just as lovely. It clearly means they want something, so I take a deep breath and pick up the dress, then go back downstairs ahead of schedule, walking into the kitchen where they’re all gathered.

  “So what’s up with this?” I ask, not bothering with any other greeting as I hold the dress aloft. “Is there another party or something?”

  I can’t see why they’d want me to come, considering how the last one went. That’s when I got the call from my dad where he sounded so fucking freaked out—the one where it seemed like he thought he was in danger—and I was so upset afterward that I accidentally downed a drink laced with molly. I don’t think any of us want a repeat of that night. But maybe there’s some other event that’s important to Black Rose business, and we’re all going to go.

  “No,” Sloan says, speaking to me directly for the first time since the race and our encounter in the alley. I glance at him, and he stares right back, his face expressionless. “I’m taking you out tonight.”

  For a second, I’m pretty sure I misheard him, but my eyebrows shoot up all the same. He didn’t say “we” as in all the guys, he said “I.”

  As in… just him.

  I try to think quickly, rifling through my memories, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never been alone with Sloan, unless you count the times we’ve almost had sex. Levi takes me to school every day, and I’ve been out with Rory, but I usually only interact with Sloan with the others around too.

  “You know, depositing dresses on beds isn’t how you’re supposed to ask a girl out,” I tell him, trying to sound annoyed rather than… whatever it is I’m feeling.

  Intrigued? Worried? Nervous? There’s too much going on in my head for me to really know.

  Sloan just gives me a look, firm and almost bored. He picks up his can of soda and takes a sip before he speaks again. “I’m not asking.”

  Rory and Levi just stand there watching it. Levi looks a little bothered, and I’m willing to bet it’s because Sloan wants to go out with me. We haven’t really talked about what happened between us since it happened, but there’s something that looks a lot like jealousy in his eyes. Rory, on the other hand, just seems amused. He glances between the two of us, like he’s waiting for me to answer Sloan’s comment with a sharp one of my own.

  It makes sense, considering Rory told me he doesn’t care if the others want me too. He just wants to be a part of it. Especially since I freaked out a little after we had sex, it seems like he doesn’t want to stop me from exploring things with either of the other guys if that’s what I want to do.

  Of course, the problem is, I have no fucking idea what I want to do. I don’t know what to think about that.

  Or any of this, for that matter.

  I wish I could whip out my phone and record a video of this entire exchange and send it to Scarlett to get her advice on what I’m supposed to do here. I’m in so far over my head it’s not even funny. I want to tell Sloan no. I want to tell him to go fuck himself. I want to punch his stupid face in or take the dress in my hands and strangle him with it. I remember what Scar said about me not wanting to be with someone who killed my father, and she’s right.

  But it’s more than that, even. I’ve never met anyone as controlling and surly as Sloan is. So fucking possessive and territorial without having any right to be.

  Maybe when this first started, I thought those qualities were annoyingly attractive, but I hate everything about him now. The way he stares at me like he knows I’m going to say yes. The way he’s trying to lay this claim in front of the other two, like he has any fucking right to do that. How even if we do go out, he’ll probably try to pretend it didn’t happen afterward, the way he always does whenever the two of us have a moment.

  He killed my dad.

  I saw it happen.

  And the thought of going out with my father’s murderer makes my skin crawl in the worst way.

  But… my plan is working. The guys are loosening up around me. Levi is jealous because he probably wants to ask me out, and Rory just wants me to be happy or something. Either way, it’s a win for getting them to trust me. This is my first chance to get Sloan alone and work on him, without the haze of lust and sex being in the way, and I have to take it. Who knows when I’ll get another opportunity like this if I throw it back in his face.

  “Fine,” I say, leveling a look at him after a long moment. “I’ll go out with you. But I’m not wearing the fucking dress.”

  14

  Not waiting for Sloan to respond, I turn and head back upstairs, leaving the three of them to do whatever it is they do when I’m not around. After closing my door, I throw the dress on the bed and turn to go to my closet to find something else to wear, but then I make the mistake of looking back at it.

  Motherfucker.

  It’s beautiful, I have to give it that. If Sloan picked it out himself, then he has good taste, and I make a face at myself for even thinking that. I can’t help but run my hands over the smooth, satiny material, loving the way the midnight blue color looks against my skin.

  “Fuck it,” I mutter under my breath. I’m not going to wear it on our “date,” but that doesn’t mean I can’t at least try it on, right?

  That’s mistake number two.

  I get undressed and pull the dress up over my hips, slipping the straps over my shoulders and letting it settle on my body before I glance in the mirror. Of course it’s even more fucking gorgeous when I’m wearing it. Dammit.

  The blue fabric shimmers softly, almost like the night sky. It’s not as long as the first dress they got me, falling around my ankles with a skirt that flares out when I walk or twirl. It hugs my waist and draws attention to my cleavage with a low-cut, scooped neckline. It’s simple, but effective, and I don’t want to take it off.

  “Goddammit.” I scowl at my reflection and then go hunt down some shoes that will work with it.

  I know I said I wasn’t going to wear it, but I am. Not because Sloan told me to, but because I look damn fucking good in it. So there. If I have to go out with him, then I’m going to make sure he can’t take his eyes off me. I can play this to my advantage, and I fully intend to.

  I take some time to wash my hair when I shower, blow-drying it before attacking it with my curling iron until it falls in loose, dark curls over my shoulders. I pin one side back out of my face and then spend a little more time doing my makeup. I’ve never been a girly-girl really, since I was raised by my dad and always getting into scrapes. Gen
erally speaking, I’d rather spend my time in a sports bra and hand wraps, but sometimes it’s nice to look good.

  When I look at my reflection in the mirror once I’m done getting ready, I smile because I look better than good.

  Sloan probably bought this dress as a power play, but I think the final point will go to me.

  I grab my purse and head downstairs at five minutes to seven. Rory and Levi are on the couch, eating something that smells spicy out of takeout containers. They both stop and look at me, their gazes moving up and down my body as they take in the dress and me in it. Sloan comes walking in a second later, and he does the same thing.

  I feel like I’m on display for them, but instead of being annoying, it makes my skin flush with heat from all three of them staring at me like they want to eat me.

  Sloan’s dressed up too, more formally than usual. He’s in his standard monochrome colors, black slacks and a white button-down shirt with a black blazer over it, but he looks damned good. The slacks draw attention to his long legs, and the blazer does amazing things for the broad spread of his shoulders. It makes him look classic and effortlessly handsome. His steel-gray eyes are sharp, and just a bit warm with the same heat I feel, and we spend a few seconds staring at each other in silence before he moves.

  “Let’s go.” He puts his hand on the small of my back to usher me out.

  Just the feeling of the warmth of his hand through my dress affects me, and I swallow hard, feeling my heart almost skip a beat in my chest. I try my best to ignore it, focusing instead on the way Levi and Rory are still watching.

  “Have fun, kids!” Rory calls, waving goodbye with the pair of chopsticks in his hand. “Don’t be out past curfew or you’re both grounded.”

  Sloan doesn’t respond, and I just snort and wiggle my fingers over my shoulder at Rory.

  Then we’re outside and the door is closed behind us, leaving the two of us alone. He leads the way to his car and even opens the passenger side door for me, which has me staring at him for a second as he walks around to the other side.