Play Me (Brit Boys Sports Romance Book 4)

by J. H. Croix

  His mouth curled at one corner. Oh hell. God, he was too much for any woman to deal with and not lose her mind. “Tonight then?” he asked.

  I didn’t want to do this tonight. I needed time to armor myself. But if I said no, I’d look like I was chickening out. I couldn’t do that because, dammit, I had too much pride. He’d called me out on avoiding him, and I had to show him that wasn’t the case. Never mind that I had totally been avoiding him. So I nodded and willed myself not to moan at the feel of his fingers brushing against the skin of my neck as they slid through my hair.

  When I nodded, his eyes widened slightly. Good. He’d expected me to put him off. Hell no. I could handle this. It would be good. I needed to get past the awkwardness I felt and stop avoiding him.

  He released my hand. I stepped back, maybe more quickly than I should have, but I needed to get some distance between us. His eyes took on a gleam and instantly I knew he’d noticed. I lifted my chin. “Where and when?” I asked, my tone coming out bitchy. I didn’t care. I needed my inner bitch loud and proud right now.

  “I’ll pick you up. Six o’clock.”

  I so didn’t want him to pick me up, but if I argued about that, it would seem silly.

  “Fine. Don’t be cheap,” I said as I turned to spin away.

  His low chuckle followed me to the door. I was about to step through it when he spoke.

  “Daisy?”

  I glanced back to him.

  “We will finish what we started before.”

  My cheeks flamed hot again, but I clung to my dignity with my fingertips. “You don’t call the shots,” I retorted.

  He shrugged. “Maybe not, but I know you want it as much as I do.”

  I had no words for that. He had no idea how right he was.

  Chapter 3

  Tristan

  Brilliant. I’d just gone and set myself up for a few hours of torture. What the hell was I thinking? If there was one thing I didn’t do, it was chase after women. I’d done that once upon a time when I was young and naïve. I’d learned quite thoroughly it wasn’t worth it. Yet, it definitely felt like I might be awful close to chasing Daisy. I couldn’t resist though. No more than a few minutes of hot, wild kisses with her, and too much felt unfinished. Then, there was her and the way she got under my skin. When she went all prickly, that did it. I was determined to push her past the walls she’d put up. A distant warning bell rang in my mind, but I was feeling downright stubborn about this. I didn’t intend for tonight to end with dinner. I needed to finally get her out of my system and then we’d both be better off for it.

  My desk phone rang, jolting me out of my mental daze. Only then did I become aware enough to realize my cock was still hard. Bloody hell. That’s how much of an effect Daisy had on me.

  I let the call go to voice mail and forced myself through a set of twenty pushups—right there in my office in my lab coat. The exertion was enough to take the edge off my raging hard on and get my mind focused again.

  Hours later, I snagged my keys off the table by the door to my flat and walked outside. Inside of a minute, I was driving toward Daisy’s flat. I knew where she lived because I’d been there a number of times before she began conveniently avoiding me. She had hosted a few gatherings there for our mutual friends and lived close enough I could’ve walked, but I intended to make this an actual date, so I was taking her to dinner across town. I knew she loved new places and had heard from a friend at the hospital that there was a great new Asian fusion restaurant.

  I rolled to a stop in front of the duplex where she lived. The door swung open as I lifted my hand to knock. My eyes collided with hers and my breath seized for a moment. Fuck me. She was so beautiful. Her thick mane of blonde hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders. She’d changed from her proper, professional outfit into a white cotton shirt that was cinched at the neck by a bow just above her generous breasts. This was paired with a bright blue skirt that hugged her hips and swung playfully at her knees. She wore the same black kitten heels. I don’t think I’d ever seen her wear makeup and tonight was no exception. Her rosy cheeks were enough on their own, while her wide brown eyes had thick lashes that curled against her cheeks. She wasn’t a typical beauty. She had a slightly crooked mouth paired with a nose that tipped up. With her angled eyes, she had a tilted look to her. Altogether, she seemed impish. She was curvier than the average woman, but didn’t make any effort to hide it. It took every bit of restraint I had not to kiss her just then, but I didn’t.

  I don’t know how, but I knew I had to tread lightly, or she’d do just as she had before. Don’t ask me why I didn’t just forget about it. I didn’t know why Daisy bolted on me last time, but I needed to see this through to fruition with her, so I could stop thinking about her. I didn’t even like to consider how many times I’d jacked off to the recollection of what it had felt like to kiss her. It had been like stepping into fire—so hot and so fucking good I’d craved it ever since.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Daisy asked, her tone acerbic and sly.

  I’d been all but slack-jawed staring at her, so she had me there. I rallied and shrugged. “You look beautiful. Shall we?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she lifted her chin. “Of course,” she said briskly before stepping through the door and locking it quickly behind her. Her scent drifted up to me—a hint of honey and fruit. I forced myself to step back as she turned to walk down the walkway.

  Opening the car door for her got me an eye roll and a huff. Daisy like this was like gas on a fire for me. I had to talk my cock down as I rounded the car and climbed in.

  “So where are we going?” she asked once I pulled away from the curb.

  “New place I heard about across town.”

  “And that would be called?”

  I glanced to her as I rolled to a stop at an intersection. “Actually, I can’t remember, but I know where it is.”

  “You can’t remember what it’s called, but you know where it is?” she asked with a wide grin.

  “Exactly. I remember numbers well. The address is four fifty-nine Hawthorne Drive. It’s over by the airport. It’s a new Asian fusion place. I know you love to try new places, and it just opened last weekend.”

  I navigated onto the road that would get us most quickly across town, a bit relieved driving gave me something to do. I’d underestimated the effect Daisy had on me. I couldn’t say if it was because it had been so long since I’d spent much time with her, but bloody hell. She obliterated my ability to focus. I needed a few minutes to get a grip. I wasn’t used to wanting someone this much.

  “Oh! I heard about this place. It’s supposed to be really good,” she replied, bouncing in her seat a little.

  You’d think I had some sense, but I’d also forgotten how it felt to be around Daisy. I’d known her a good three years now. She was this odd combination of sly and sarcastic mingled with a carefree joy that bubbled up occasionally. Aside from the fact I’d always felt a buzz of electricity between us, I also enjoyed being around her. She was quite bright and funny. She loved debating and was good-natured about it.

  “Ah then. Do you know what it’s called?” I asked in return.

  Canting my eyes sideways, I caught her lopsided grin as she looked my way.

  “Nope, but you’re supposed to know.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yup. You’re taking me to dinner, so you should know. I’ll let it slide as long as it’s as good as promised.”

  I chuckled. “Ah, so if it doesn’t live up to the hype, I’m in the doghouse?”

  I felt her grin this time as I kept my eyes on the road and had to bite back my own. This was too much fun, and that should’ve bothered me, but I didn’t care. I had a goal, and I intended to see it through. Tonight would end with me buried deep inside of Daisy. For once and for all, I’d get her out of my system and then we could be friends again.

  Chapter 4

  Daisy

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nbsp; “Oh my God!” I reached to steady the bottle of wine wobbling in the middle of the table in between trying to catch my breath from laughing.

  In the year or so I’d been finding one convenient excuse after another to avoid being around Tristan, I’d forgotten how funny he could be. By the way, avoiding him had taken an enormous amount of fancy footwork. Olivia and Harper were my two besties. They just so happened to be married to two of Tristan’s teammates from the Seattle Stars—Liam and Alex. They weren’t just Tristan’s teammates, they’d all known each other back in Britain before signing with the Stars here. We spent a lot of time together, what with dinners, games and the occasional party. I’d put tons of energy into coming up with reasons why I wouldn’t be around whenever I knew Tristan would.

  The stupid kiss had made me crazy. Actually, it had been a bit more than a kiss. I’d accompanied Olivia to an out-of-town game once when Harper couldn’t go. Dinner, copious amounts of wine, and Tristan simply existing in all of his hot glory had made me decide I could give in to what I’d wanted for as long as I’d known him. We’d been at it heavy in the stairwell at the hotel. So heavy, his knee was wedged between my thighs, the pressure against my clit driving me wild. Between that and how insanely good it had felt to have his mouth on mine and his thumb teasing a nipple, well I’d just about freaked out when he pulled back and our eyes locked. My heart had squeezed and my breath had lodged like a fist in my throat—because everything felt intense and deep and more than I’d ever imagined. And everything I’d chalked up to never being possible.

  So I’d shimmied out from between the wall and his hard, hot body and bolted to my hotel room for a night by myself. I’d cursed myself for forgetting to bring my vibrator because I’d been that bad off, and my vibrator was the one and only thing that had ever brought me to climax.

  I’d felt so vulnerable and stupid about it all that I’d done my best to never see Tristan. I’d also turned him into a stuffy jerk in my head. He tended to be quiet, so the opening to make him stuffy and uptight was there. I’d conveniently forgotten about his sly, understated humor and how much I enjoyed talking to him.

  He was, of course, a sports star. Yet that barely touched the surface of him. He was fucking brilliant, which I loved. He’d somehow managed to finish medical school by fitting his classes in around his grueling schedule as a soccer player. He clearly had a passion for medicine and research. Another thing I loved about him—he wasn’t intimidated by a smart woman. My brain was my best asset. I loved my job as a medical researcher and loved talking shop. Much as I hated to believe women didn’t receive equal treatment in medicine, we didn’t. Not even close. I was quite accustomed to being ignored in meetings and seeing the surprise on faces when people learned I was the lead researcher on multiple studies. Tristan wasn’t like that. He treated me just as I’d expect him to treat a male colleague and would even admit if he was wrong about something.

  Despite knowing all of this about him, I’d turned him into a stuffy jerk in the year I’d been avoiding him. Probably a smart thing to do because right now I had two problems. I wanted him so badly my panties were drenched and had been for at least an hour. And I liked him. I really liked him. He was everything I wanted in a guy. I’d been scouting high and low, far and wide for the man of my dreams for the last few years. All to no avail. I had no trouble scoring dates, but sex was something I’d come to dread and I’d begun to think I’d pinned my hopes too high in expecting to possibly find a guy who turned me on and who respected me.

  The waiter stepped to the table, effectively snagging the wobbly bottle of wine and glancing between us with a grin. “Well, it looks like we’re having fun. Are we thinking dessert?”

  I swallowed the last of my laughter and glanced over at Tristan, promptly forgetting what had been so funny. The restaurant had been as sublime as the reviews indicated. I’d had a stir-fry, allegedly a fusion of Thai and American themes, or so the waiter said. I’d enjoyed my meal, but it’s a miracle I noticed anything other than Tristan. He was far, far too distracting.

  Tristan’s black curls were rumpled as usual. His hazel eyes caught mine across the table, one dark brow arching up in question.

  “Of course! I’m dying to know what fusion desserts you have,” I announced.

  The waiter ran down a list. When Tristan wouldn’t choose, I settled on some kind of chocolate cayenne thing. Our waiter refilled my wine glass and left with the now empty bottle of wine. I was already tipsy. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, but I needed the liquid courage and the softening of my anxiety the wine afforded me.

  Tristan took a swallow of his wine and eyed me. “So, tell me the truth—why have you been avoiding me all this time?”

  His question hit me right in the solar plexus. Warmth spiraled outward and my belly executed a slow flip. Oh fuck it. I had nothing left to lose at this point.

  “Because it seemed messy. Now that we’ve had dinner, I can handle it again,” I said, hewing to vagueness and hoping that would be enough.

  “Messy?”

  Oh great. He wasn’t going to let me off the hook. Well, whatever. I might as well blurt it all out. Then, he’d run for the hills and save me the bother of trying to keep avoiding him. I took a gulp of wine.

  “Uh huh. Here’s the thing, you don’t do messy, so it seemed best we not let things go any further. Because I want two things—a commitment and an orgasm. The order doesn’t really matter. Since I know you don’t want a commitment, I figured it’d be better if we forgot how great that kiss was.”

  Chapter 5

  Tristan

  I snapped my mouth shut the moment I realized I was slack-jawed staring at Daisy for the second time tonight. There she sat across from me, the light glinting off her blonde hair, those wide brown eyes locked to me almost as if she was daring me, and her fucking luscious lips curled up at the corners. I gave myself a mental shake and tried to keep a rein on my body. Her little announcement was a hard spur to the need that had been galloping through me all evening. It also sent me skidding sideways in my mind.

  “An orgasm and a commitment?” I asked.

  I managed to keep my tone calm, but I felt as if she’d whacked me upside the head. I’d spent all of this evening with one end goal in mind—to finish what we started and get her out of my system. The very word commitment had me taking several steps back. I wasn’t an ass. It wasn’t that I thought commitment was bad in concept. It was just I’d brushed up against it once, and it didn’t go well.

  I’d been young and at university and definitely foolish. I shan’t say I had good sense then, as like most blokes, my cock didn’t always take me in wise directions. To keep it brief, I was seeing a girl. Things ended in dramatic fashion when her ex decided to call me out for a fight. Come to find out, she’d mostly been using me to get back at him. I didn’t enjoy—at all—being part of someone else’s revenge. My pride took a hit, and I’d liked her enough that I fancied us in a serious relationship. It stung. Things got even messier when she got back together with him, he dumped her again, and she tried to drag me back in the middle. My cock thought it was a fine idea until reality struck, and the cynical truth became apparent. Yet again, I was nothing more than fodder for whatever long game she was playing with her ex.

  I shan’t say I was horribly brokenhearted, but more that the emotional shenanigans just didn’t seem worth it when it came to relationships and anything resembling commitment. By the time my brain spoke louder than my other head, I’d had my fill of the drama and had hewed to a practical approach when it came to sex ever since then.

  With my mind flashing warning signs, I stared at Daisy across the table, thinking I needed to just forget any idea of getting her out of my system.

  Her cheeks flushed deeper and she lifted her chin slightly before nodding. “Yes, as I said, in no particular order.”

  Curiosity burned through me. I shouldn’t have been this curious, but it was Daisy and I was nothing resembling
sensible when it came to her, or so it seemed. “Are you telling me you’ve never had an orgasm?”

  “Not with a man,” she said, her tone haughty.

  I could sense the underlying vulnerability it took for her to say any of this. Daisy wasn’t one to back down though. She’d determined she wasn’t going to hide, so she barreled right at it.

  There wasn’t much that could’ve made me want her more, but this did. I hadn’t the slightest doubt she’d have an orgasm with me, but knowing she’d never scaled that peak with another man was beyond tempting. That and her boldness. Fuck me. I needed to get a grip. She wasn’t after just an orgasm. She wanted commitment, something I didn’t even have on my radar. I did single quite well. I had friends, I had family, and I had sex. It all worked smoothly.

  “If not in any particular order, does it matter if the orgasm and the commitment go together?”

  My question just strolled out of my mouth on its own—without my permission. I scrambled inside, falling back to logic. Maybe I could compromise. I wanted her—so fiercely it burned. Perhaps there was an in between option.

  Her chocolate brown gaze held mine for a beat before she shrugged. “Maybe. I’d like to say yes, but I’m so cynical about it, I’ve pretty much resigned myself to the fact it’s not possible.” She abruptly tore her eyes from mine and took a gulp of wine. “Okay, that’s enough. I explained and now I won’t be avoiding you anymore. Let’s move on.”

  I knew we should move on because anything else was inviting disaster. Daisy had been entirely correct when she indicated things could get messy. They absolutely would if I followed the siren call of burning need for her. Apparently, I was bloody stupid because I shook my head.

  “No, let’s not move on. You need to have an orgasm. I can’t fucking believe you’ve had to suffer through sex without one.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh God. Don’t get all cocky with me. You’re a doctor, you know plenty of women don’t have orgasms during sex. Men are inclined to put their needs first. It’s not like I suffered, more that it was like a chore. I’d rather not be bored and find someone to settle down with while I’m at it. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. And why are we still talking about this? Unless you’re volunteering, this is a pointless discussion.”