Play Me (Brit Boys Sports Romance Book 4)

by J. H. Croix

  Did I forget to mention how stupid Daisy made me? What I did next was colossally stupid.

  “Maybe I am.” I drained the last of my wine and eyed her. Thank fucking God the table hid the fact my cock was rock hard.

  Her eyes widened and her breath came out in a surprised puff. Her cheeks went cherry red, and I wanted her like crazy. In short order, I’d talked myself into the idea I could persuade Daisy to agree to this without the commitment part.

  “You don’t do relationships,” she said slowly.

  “Let’s start with the orgasm.”

  I didn’t let myself ponder the insanity I was stepping into. My body knew once with Daisy would never be enough. Messy didn’t quite capture how it would play out if we had sex and she ended up wanting more. Despite my feeble attempts to be rational, my mouth was miles ahead of my mind.

  “It’s not like anyone can see into the future anyway. There’s no way to agree in advance to commitment, but I can promise you an orgasm.”

  I took stock. I knew what I said to be factually true. There was no way anyone who was sane and honest would promise a commitment ahead of time. All I wanted was Daisy.

  I wasn’t usually cocky, but I knew what Daisy’s response to me had been. It was mutual. We’d been on fire for each other. All I had to do was feed that fire. Commitment be damned.

  I expected Daisy to tell me to fuck off, figuring that would put an end to my insanity and give me an easy out. She didn’t. She angled her head to the side, her gaze considering. That lopsided smile of hers slowly unfurled. She might as well have kicked me in the chest. My heart set to banging against my ribs.

  “You have a point. Maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong. I’ll take you up on your offer. If anything because I think you’re too cocky and doubt you can deliver on your orgasm guarantee.”

  Her words threw another match into the flames already flickering around us. Lust bolted through me.

  Our waiter arrived at that moment. I never looked away from Daisy. “You can box up that dessert. We’ll be heading out now,” I said before handing him my credit card.

  He spun away and returned quickly, setting the takeout box and the receipt on the table. Daisy broke free from our electric stare.

  “Thank you so much. Everything was delicious. We’ll definitely be back soon,” she said as I added a tip and all but shoved the receipt in the waiter’s hand.

  Through the blur of need, I managed to settle her jacket over her shoulders and curl my hand around hers before all but dragging her out of the restaurant. I considered taking care of matters right there in the car, but forced myself to wait. If I were going to be bloody insane enough to do this with Daisy, I’d do it right. That meant being somewhere I could strip her bare and see every inch I’d only felt pressed against me before.

  Chapter 6

  Daisy

  My body was nearly vibrating with need. The force of it was so powerful, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I levitated above my car seat. The air inside Tristan’s car felt alive—buzzing with the electricity crackling between us. The drive from the restaurant back to my house felt like forever. Intellectually, I knew it was maybe fifteen minutes at best. Yet, I wasn’t sure I could make it without exploding or melting or tackling Tristan as he drove.

  I actually tucked my hands under my thighs. That’s how badly I wanted to touch him. I wanted to scoff at his confidence that he could bring me to orgasm and I’d managed to knock him down a little, but I didn’t know what to do with the way I felt around him. The chemistry between us was so hot, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the tablecloth had caught on fire back at the restaurant.

  You’re being stupid. You know that, right? You know Tristan doesn’t want a commitment, so what the hell are you doing?

  He has a point. No one can guarantee a commitment. I’d like to see if I can have an orgasm with a guy. If it can happen with anyone, he’s a good bet.

  This was a variation on a debate I’d been having with myself ever since I’d kissed him last year. It felt urgent now because it was real. There was a third voice that rarely spoke up.

  Maybe it’s you. Maybe something’s wrong with you and you just can’t relax enough to let it happen.

  I didn’t like this voice. It was a quiet, anxious voice of doubt that had gotten marginally bolder over time. I’d been on a serious mission to find a man. I wanted the whole thing—great sex, love and happily-ever-after. While my friends seemed to stumble into it, I’d tried dates, friends with benefits, and more. By the way, friends with benefits are stupid when you can’t have an orgasm with anyone. In short, the more this voice of doubt tried to make itself heard, the more depressed I got about the whole thing.

  Between my body being on fire and my mind volleying debate points, I blessedly lost track of time and breathed a silent sigh of relief when Tristan turned onto my street and rolled to a stop in front of the duplex where I lived. I felt half crazy. I wanted him. So much. And yet I didn’t want to be disappointed. Again. I was also terrified of the way I felt when I was near him and didn’t know how to navigate any of this. I didn’t know what was worse—amazing sex with him and then falling for him and getting let down, or letting this chance pass me by and never finding out what it felt like to have an orgasm with a man.

  Before I had a chance to come to a conclusion—truth was, there was not much thinking going on, more of a muddled haze of desire I was picking my way through—Tristan was at my door, opening it. To top it all off, he just had to go and be a gentleman. He was ever polite and gracious. When I was feeling vulnerable, like now, it grated on me. It made me feel like he was together, while I was flailing inside and at the whim of my body’s needs.

  My annoyance—with myself and with his ever calm presence—propelled me out of the car in a huff. I brushed past him and walked briskly to the door. I lived in a duplex in a residential area of Seattle. It was a renovated bungalow with a wide covered porch and painted cheerily in white with bright red trim. It was early spring. The air was scented with flowers. With its rainy, damp weather, Seattle was a veritable plethora of bright flowers come spring. In a few weeks, I’d be busy planting my flowerboxes, but tonight that was the furthest thing from my mind.

  I left Tristan to close the door behind us once we stepped inside and stalked across the room to flick on a lamp. My living room was rather endearing with a large bay window—cushioned reading seat included—to one side and a fireplace on the opposite wall. The room had an arched entry door and wider archway leading into the kitchen on the other side. I’d painted the walls a soft cream. The polished hardwood floors were softened with bright throw rugs and a sectional couch with luxurious pillows in the center of the room. I often entertained because it was a warm, inviting space. Just now, I looked around and it felt suddenly too intimate.

  I gave myself a mental shake. I would not let myself get cowed by doubts. I’d accepted Tristan’s challenge, and dammit, he was the one who had something to prove. Not me. I ignored the whispers, wondering if I was out of my ever-loving mind. I felt him approach—my God he was like a crazy hot magnet for me—and spun to face him. I stood beside the archway into the kitchen where I’d flicked on a single lamp. The light cast a warm glow. He stopped perhaps a foot away, his gaze locked to mine.

  The air felt hot even though I knew it to be cool, cool enough to make me shiver, and heavy—weighted with all the time I’d spent avoiding him that had led to making me only want him more fiercely. Trepidation thundered with every beat of my heart, but I wasn’t going to chicken out. Hell, all I’d ever had was boring sex, and I was a sport about it every time. I could handle this. I closed the distance between us and called upon the bold part of me. I placed my hand on his chest and dragged it down the center, stopping just shy of curling it over his cock.

  I was heartened to feel the strong beat of his heart as I passed over it, and to see the ridge of his cock outlined against his jeans when I flicked my eyes down
. At least I knew he wanted me. I lifted my eyes again. The second they collided with his, my breath caught and my pulse—already racing—lunged, and heat flashed through me.

  “You have a point to prove,” I said as I lifted my chin.

  Tristan was quiet for a few beats, his eyes scanning my face and then dropping down. Hell, all he had to do was look and my nipples tightened as if begging for his attention. His eyes flicked back to mine.

  “I suppose I do.”

  His gravelly voice sent a hot shiver over my skin, tightening my nipples even further and sending heat coiling low in my belly. He held still, so still all I could hear was the rushed beat of my heart. Anxiety started to unfurl. I could only handle this if I felt in control. That was the crux of what had sent me bolting away from Tristan before. My body spiraled out of control around him. I was so accustomed to nothing more than vague flutters of sensation that turned into disappointing encounters. I didn’t like to contemplate what it meant that I wanted to wrest my control back because it made me worry I was the reason sex had turned into such a chore for me.

  In a flash, thought fled when Tristan closed the distance between us. I reflexively stepped back, bumping against the wall behind me. The heat and strength of him surrounded me. I was torn between wanting to flee—to flee from how much I wanted him and how impossible it was to feel in control when he was near—and wanting to sink into him. Desire curled around us like smoke. He rested a palm against the wall and lifted the other to trail his fingers through my hair. I could barely breathe and my knees almost gave out.

  I felt suspended in this hazy heat with desire rolling through me in waves while all he did was idly sift through my hair. My eyes greedily soaked him in. Sweet hell. He was too handsome for words. His dark rumpled hair, those hazel eyes and his chiseled features. It was a miracle I didn’t melt to the floor right there. He had a mouth made for sin—full, lush lips. God, a man shouldn’t have lips like that.

  It had been quiet for too long, so my brain started to come back online. That was bad. I instantly started to worry that this good feeling wouldn’t go any further, that once we got past this initial burst, it would lose its luster, and I’d feel like I was going through the motions again. I needed to not think because thinking led to anxiety and then I started to get restless and then…

  “Daisy.”

  Tristan’s voice snapped through the churning in my mind. My eyes whipped up to his.

  “Stop thinking.”

  His tone came out a bit too authoritative for me, like he thought he could just tell me what to do. In the heat of the moment, it didn’t even cross my mind he’d proceeded to snap me right out of the anxious place in my thoughts.

  I nudged his leg with my knee. “I can think all I want.”

  I felt snappy and flustered and didn’t give a damn if I sounded precisely that.

  His mouth curled at one corner. Oh God. That was dangerous. My channel throbbed with need. I swallowed and straightened my spine. This had the unintended effect of pressing my breasts into his chest. My nipples thought that was awesome.

  “Of course you can think all you want. It’s just now’s not the time and place for it.”

  Before I could formulate a comeback, he dipped his head and fit his mouth over mine. That kiss from almost a year ago, the kiss I’d never been able to forget? We picked up right where we left off. Our lips collided and it was as if a flash fire engulfed us. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t a tentative exploration, nothing you might expect from two people who’d hardly seen each other and shared only one hurried kiss. Rather, it was hot, wet, messy and wild. Inside of a second, he was devouring my mouth. His hand threaded into the hair at the nape of my neck, and his thumb stroked in a lazy pass over my pulse.

  As fierce as our kiss was, he didn’t lose control. He stepped closer, his knee sliding between my thighs. The subtlest pressure against my core, and need coiled tightly inside. My body was completely out of my control, and once again, I didn’t know how to contain the wildness thrumming through me. Somewhere along the way, his lips were blazing a wet trail of fire down my neck while he palmed one of my breasts, his thumb stroking back and forth in maddening passes. My breasts were heavy and aching, and I was so restless and so needy, my hips were rolling against his thigh.

  We were right back to where we’d been. The only difference was we weren’t in the stairwell at a hotel, but we were here in my house. Lights flashed in the front windows from a passing car rounding the curve in the road. Awareness sliced through me, and I stiffened. Tristan lifted his head. Once again, the moment his eyes met mine, I felt raw and exposed, caught in a shimmering web of intimacy.

  He was quiet, the intensity of his gaze searing into me. I started thinking. Again. That’s all it took, and I couldn’t relax. I started to say something, but he shook his head.

  “We’re not talking.”

  Once again, the clear authority in his tone rankled me. It snapped me back out of thinking and got me annoyed.

  “If I want to talk, I…”

  He kissed me again. It turned out kisses from Tristan were a rather effective way of shutting me up. His tongue tangled with mine before he drew back, catching my bottom lip in his teeth and tugging it lightly. He pressed into me, and I could feel every hard, hot inch of his cock cradled at the apex of my thighs.

  “You know. I think I see the problem,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine.

  “What?” I asked, my voice a ragged whisper.

  “You’re brilliant, which I love by the way.”

  A little buzz of joy flashed inside of me. It didn’t hurt the least to have him actually notice the fact I had a brain, and I used it quite well thank you.

  “Because you’re brilliant, you think. A lot. Sometimes thinking isn’t helpful.”

  Oh. I saw right where he was going. That little buzz fizzled, and I felt vulnerable, and I hated it.

  “You’re brilliant too,” I muttered.

  I felt the shrug of his shoulder. “I think too much sometimes too.”

  I knew he meant the comment to make me feel less defensive. It had the effect of that and also making me feel more vulnerable. Why did he have to go and be nice too?

  “We’re not having sex tonight,” he murmured.

  Excuse me. Oh, this would not do.

  I leaned back and looked at him. “Oh yes we are. You guaranteed me an orgasm.”

  “Oh, you’ll have an orgasm, but we’re not having sex.”

  I knew perfectly well he was rock hard and ready, so I was confused. “Huh?”

  Not the best example of my brilliance.

  He stepped back slightly and slid his hands down my arms, pulling me away from the wall. “Trust me.”

  Chapter 7

  Tristan

  I curled my hand around one of Daisy’s and stepped toward the short hallway at the back corner of her living room. I’d just told Daisy to trust me, while I had no idea if I could trust myself. She had the craziest effect on me. Under normal circumstances, I’d have come to the conclusion that I needed to put the brakes on this encounter. Hell, I’d have never been so far off my rocker to suggest I’d give any woman an orgasm. Not for a second did I doubt that possibility with Daisy—the chemistry between us burned so hot and bright, it was blinding. It’s a fucking miracle I hadn’t come already, what with her riding my thigh and making those crazy breathy moans. I thanked the stars I had an iron grip on my control. Yet right about now, it wasn’t enough because I should’ve started using my sense and walked away from this. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  It was obvious Daisy overthought sex. I could practically feel the wheels turning in her brain. She was one of the smartest people I knew. One thing you figured out when you focused on academics the way I had was the brightest people tended to try to think their way through everything. I supposed playing ball had saved me. My skills there had me wisely electing to go pro because I knew it would set me up financially in a way other options woul
dn’t. Hell, I loved playing ball, but my choice to go pro was purely practical. It was the way I lost myself in play that taught me how my intellect could get in the way. I was at my best on the pitch when I didn’t think too hard and let instinct and skill run the show.

  When Daisy was twined against me kissing me so fiercely, I thought I might go up in flames right there with her. She wasn’t thinking then. The second she started to think, she got tense. When it came to sex, I loved it as much as any guy, maybe more. I didn’t like it complicated, and I didn’t like it tangled up with emotions. Yet, here I was letting Daisy step past me into her bedroom. Nothing could have stopped me, yet in the far reaches of my mind, I knew this was stupid and had epic disaster written all over it if I wasn’t careful.

  That’s why I’d declared we weren’t having sex. Maybe I was a masochist, but I had it in my head I’d lose too much of what little control I had if I gave into that tonight.

  Daisy dropped my hand and flicked on a lamp by the bed. I took in the space. Her bed reminded me of her somehow—a poster bed with tall posts almost reaching the ceiling and a canopy of sheer white fabric draped atop it. She had a deep wine colored quilt with enough pillows to get lost in. The effect was the same bold femininity she carried. She walked back toward me, kicking her shoes off as she did.

  I hoped she didn’t notice it, but I swallowed and bit back a groan at the sight of her. At some point during the midst of our heated kiss, I’d untied the little bow between her breasts. My eyes were drawn to the valley between them, savoring the plump curves of them spilling above the loosened opening in her shirt. She put her hands on her hips.