Playing the Field ebook final draft

by Gray, Mackenzie

  “And it’s like when that happened, suddenly my dad started hounding me about business school. My dream had been taken from me, so he saw his chance to shove me in a different direction, something that was for him, not me.” Mitchell swings higher, and I do too, pumping my legs back and forth. The air whips across my face.

  “Why do you think he started pushing you?” It doesn’t seem right, pushing for something that clearly makes his son miserable. If the man had eyes in his head, he’d see that not only does Mitchell love soccer, but he’s also a phenomenal athlete. He has a gift.

  Mitchell shrugs. “Control? Legacy? Who knows. He built his company from the ground up. I think he wants to keep that success within the family, so he started spouting all this bullshit about wanting me to choose a “real” career, one that offers stability, when really, he’s just motivated by his own selfishness.”

  It occurs to me, speaking with Mitchell, that I’m insanely lucky. I hit the jackpot when it comes to my parents. They’ve always supported me. If one week I want to be a professional musician and the next week I change my mind and want to go into organic farming, they still root for me. I never feel the need to hide myself from them, or anyone for that matter. I can just be.

  “I’m sorry your dad hasn’t been more supportive of your choices,” I say. My parents are my biggest fans. I don’t know what I’d do without them.

  “Yeah,” he mutters, swinging higher and higher. “Me too.”

  The chains creak, and I swing toward the sky, dropping into the flexible rubber seat when gravity pulls me back down to earth. “What are you going to do?”

  “Keep playing pretend, I guess. Meet with the recruiters next month. Improve my game. Try to keep my dad off my back for as long as possible.”

  His hurt and anger leak out, potent and volatile. I need to figure out a way to pull his attention from that dark place, toward something lighter and brighter and less heavy.

  “How much do you want to bet that I can jump farther than you?” I say, a dare edging my tone.

  He snorts. “Dream on. I’m heavier than you. More mass equals more momentum.”

  “Yeah, but my smaller frame gives me more flexibility and less wind resistance.”

  The corner of his mouth quirks up. He glances at me, his look saying in so little words that he knows what I’m trying to do, and he appreciates it. “So what happens when I win?” His grin turns mocking.

  “What happens when you win? That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” It feels good, this back and forth banter. It all feels so easy.

  “I play to win. Simple as that.” Something in his voice changes. Awareness suddenly tingles against my spine.

  My laughter feels forced. “Okay, fine. What do you want?”

  His voice takes on a smoother quality. “What are you willing to give?”

  My rhythm breaks, and I nearly fall off the swing. That was a harmless question, right? I’m not looking for double-meanings when I shouldn’t be? I tend to overanalyze things. It’s not always healthy.

  When he turns his face, his eyes glitter with something that makes the hair stand up along my arms, makes my stomach drop. And drop.

  I snap my head forward again. “Uh.” Crap, I’ve lost my train of thought. Praying my voice doesn’t waver, I say, “If you win, I’ll buy you a drink. What will you give me if I win?”

  His raspy chuckle scrapes along my skin, and I shiver.

  “You mean a grand isn’t enough for you?”

  He doesn’t mean it as an insult, but the joke still hits hard. Especially since he doesn’t know of my charade. “This is separate. Right now, I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend. I’m just a friend.” And I startle at the realization that it’s true. At some point over the past few weeks, we built upon mutual trust and respect and managed to solidify this contract into something stronger.

  He appears startled by this revelation as well. His eyes, soft and amused and familiar, make me feel as if I’m sinking into a warm bath.

  “If you win,” Mitchell murmurs in thought, “I’ll take you to Mako’s. You said you’ve always wanted to go, right?”

  My chest warms. He remembered. “That sounds fair.”

  His lightning-quick grin dissipates the tension. I tell myself I’m grateful, but I’m not sure I believe it. “On three then.”

  I pump my legs harder to give myself more air, fingers clutching the chains. “One.”

  He does the same. “Two.”

  “Three!”

  Together, we let go.

  We are flying.

  I hit the ground a second before he does, sand exploding in a white cloud around my legs. The force knocks the breath from my lungs, pain jarring through my wrists and knees as I catch myself, and I roll onto my back, gazing up into a sky studded with stars.

  A few feet away, Mitchell collapses onto his side. And then I remember. His knee.

  “Are you okay?” Sitting up, I brush away the sand that sticks to my skin. I don’t want to be the reason his recovery is delayed another few months.

  He doesn’t respond. Since his back is to me, I can’t see his face. “Mitchell?”

  He doesn’t move.

  Oh God. I killed him. That’s all I can think. I killed Duke’s star soccer player with a swing set.

  “Mitchell!” I grab his shoulder and shake him hard. My cell phone is in my purse, which is sitting on the passenger seat of his car. I don’t even know if there’s reception out here.

  His shoulders begin to shake. At first, I think he’s in pain, but then I hear a small chuckle, and I realize he’s laughing.

  I can’t help myself. I whack him on the arm. “Don’t scare me like that! I thought you were hurt!”

  His chuckle morphs into full-bellied laughter as he turns onto his side to face me, his eyes swallowed by folds of skin. “But I am hurt.”

  “Maybe not now, but you will be.”

  “It’s true.” The choked-off laughter dies, though his eyes still dance, as dark as the night. “Look.” He holds out a finger, gesturing to a thin scratch along the pad, a faint pink line. It’s not even bleeding.

  “Oh, boo hoo.” I slap his hand away. “You big baby.”

  “Ouch!” Mitchell clasps his finger to his chest protectively. “That hurt.” Rising onto an elbow, he holds out his hand. “Kiss it.”

  My lips twitch at his demanding tone, but when I look up, when our eyes lock and hold, the smile dies, because he’s not teasing anymore. The way he looks at me makes my lungs shrivel up. I can’t suck in air. There’s no space.

  “W-what?” My mouth is dry.

  He doesn’t move his finger away. If anything, he shifts a few inches closer. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when someone’s hurt? Kiss it and make it better?”

  I don’t know what to say. His expression is serious, but also a bit shy. I can’t look away. He is the tide, sucking me in.

  His finger hovers a few inches from my mouth. All I need to do is lean forward, press my lips to his skin.

  God, I want to.

  The intensity of his gaze causes heat to ripple along my body. Here is denial, and here is truth. I’ve wanted to touch him for weeks now, but I never thought he’d want this too. He’s not supposed to want it. He’s paying me to pretend to be his girlfriend, and I’m masquerading as a sexless wallflower, doing everything in my power to appear as unattractive as possible so that I can gather data for research purposes.

  But his eyes don’t lie. They’re impossibly black.

  Steeling myself, I close the distance, brush my lips across his finger, and draw back. “Better?” I rasp.

  Mitchell holds out his other hand, pointing to his wrist. “Here too.”

  There are no scratches on his wrist. The skin is whole and unbroken.

  Our eyes meet again. His throat bobs.

  I don’t know what I’m doing. My body feels detached from my brain, the two entities pulling in different directions. The logical part o
f me wants to back off, put space between us, but the other half, the part that clings to a small shred of hope that this is real, wants me to press close, as close as I can get.

  His skin is warm beneath my mouth, the hair along his wrist crisp and masculine. When I pull away, I ask breathlessly, “Anywhere else?”

  His eyes are hot enough to burn. “Here,” Mitchell murmurs, pointing to his shoulder, and I’m helpless to resist. A hypnotic, drowsy feeling overtakes me. My mind is wiped clean.

  Leaning forward, I kiss the swell of his shoulder, but this time, I don’t pull away. My lips hover, the clean, soapy scent of his skin drifting past my nose. “Is that all?”

  He points to the side of his neck.

  The sand shifts and sighs, and my eyes flutter closed. His neck is corded with strength, the skin smooth.

  Mitchell points, and I kiss, higher and higher up his neck, my breath stirring the hair at his nape, moving to the cut of his jaw, rough with stubble, to his cheek, tracking a warm line all the way to the corner of his mouth, where I pause. “And now?”

  He turns toward me. We’re close enough to share breath.

  Then he leans forward and takes my mouth.

  Chapter 13

  mitchell

  The instant my mouth touches Rebecca’s, my thoughts cut out. I just feel. Those soft, lush lips, which I find myself thinking about more and more these days, part on a sigh, and I sink in until it feels like I’m drowning.

  She tastes faintly of mint, probably from her toothpaste. But there’s something sweeter, darker, something I already begin to crave. While my first instinct is to dive in, I hold myself back. All I want is a small taste to demonstrate that my increased attraction to this girl is a passing phase, something I can shove aside once I prove that a kiss is just two mouths touching.

  But the joke’s on me. Her mouth opens wider, offering so much more, and my body comes alight, heat roaring through my veins, incinerating that slumbering feeling to ash. Banding an arm around her slim waist, I tug her closer, slanting my mouth over hers, and when our tongues touch, it’s like a clap of thunder through me. A rough groan catches in my throat from the way her sweet tongue slides against mine eagerly, licking into my mouth. She gives, I take. My body shudders, wanting more.

  Rebecca shoves against my shoulders, pushing me onto my back in the sand. Then she rolls on top of me, straddling my waist, taking control. I know I shouldn’t be surprised after all the times she’s taken me off guard, but I am. I can’t quite get a solid grasp as to who, exactly, Rebecca Peterson is.

  The dark desire in her eyes heats my blood. My cock, already hard, strains against my jeans. My hands skim up her legs beneath her dowdy dress, finding slim calves, smooth thighs, curves that I discovered upon seeing her wet dress plastered to her body earlier at the field. It makes me wonder what else she’s hiding.

  I suck Rebecca’s tongue into my mouth, and she releases a soft moan, pressing herself flush against me. My fingers dig into her thighs. I’m shaking with the urge to lift my hips, press myself against her core.

  Instead, I tear my mouth away and latch onto her neck, nipping the tender skin, soothing the sting.

  “Oh, God,” she whispers, arching her neck for better access. She grabs fistfuls of sand, thighs tightening on either side of my waist.

  If that isn’t the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

  My hands glide higher and settle over the sweet curve of her ass. She’s wearing a barely-there scrap of lace. Fuck. My fingers curl around the sides of her underwear, ready to rip them away, but that might be moving things along too quickly. I need to bide my time with Rebecca.

  Hands around her waist, I roll us so that our positions are switched and she’s pressed into the ground beneath my weight, my arms caged around her head. Rebecca blinks behind her glasses, eyes huge and swallowed by pupil, cheeks red. Her chest rises and falls hard, breasts skimming my chest, the tight, beaded nipples poking through. They beg for the wet heat of my mouth. My nostrils flare at the sounds she’d make, how her throaty voice would beg me to take more.

  One of her hands curls around my neck and pulls my head down, the other gripping my bicep. We come together again, a clash of tongues and teeth, and I feel the desperation in the kiss, the confusion, how she wants this and yet not, how she doesn’t understand but is too overwhelmed with lust to care, because I feel all those things too. The need tears through me. I want her. It’s that simple.

  I worship her mouth in deep, eating kisses, grinding my hips against hers in question. She spreads her legs in answer, wrapping them around my waist. My hips rub up and down, my nerves sparking and fraying at the delicious friction between my cock and her soft center. I moan into her mouth. Her legs tighten, pulling me closer, as close as we can get with barriers between us. It’s not enough.

  She begins to move beneath me.

  “What do you want?” I ask, the words more breath than sound. I lick along the rim of her ear, nibble on the fleshy lobe.

  “Oh,” she breathes. Her body trembles.

  “You like that?” My hot breath tickles her ear, and I move down to her neck, her collarbone. I cup her breasts through her dress, scrape my thumbs over the pebbled peaks. Her hips jerk in response. “Tell me what you want, Rebecca.”

  I bite down on her lower lip, suck it into my mouth, and grind my pelvis against her. We move in tandem, reaching for that elusive pinnacle together.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispers, the sound raw, fractured by need.

  There’s nothing on this earth that would make me stop save a police officer physically ripping me from her hold, handcuffing me, and shoving me into the back of a patrol car. We’re in a public park, on a playground, dry-humping in the sand, but reality is far, far away. There’s only her mouth and her dark scent and the soft, mewling sounds she makes in the back of her throat and the electrifying sensation scraping against us, building like static.

  Now Rebecca moves in earnest, lifting her hips so my bulge rubs against her core. Our kisses grow hungrier, more frenzied. I shove her legs open wider, press my cock against her nub harder. Her eyes are glazed, unseeing. She’s close. I’m close too, but I’m not about to bust a load before she gets off. I can wait.

  Her breath hitches. Her nails dig into my lower back, urging me on.

  “That’s it.” I murmur it against the curve of her neck, where I’ve buried my face to inhale the sweet smell of her skin. “Come for me.”

  Suddenly, she stiffens. I lean back in time to see her mouth open on a silent scream, eyes fluttering behind her glasses as release grips her, bowing her back and lifting her hips, seeking fulfillment, and I swear it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. A sight like demure Rebecca giving herself over to pleasure, completely uninhibited. I’m surprised I don’t come in my pants.

  I keep moving through her orgasm, wanting to draw it out. When her hands slip from my back and she slumps into the sand, I stare down at her. I’ll never be able to forget this. The sight of her release is burned into my brain.

  Finally, her heavy eyelids lift. Her eyes are a pure, electric blue, and staring into them sends a jolt through me. It feels like I’ve seen those eyes before.

  Then she stiffens for an entirely different reason.

  “Oh my God!” she cries, shoving against my chest. I’m just dazed enough that I allow her to push me aside.

  I rise to my knees, the movement making me wince. My boner throbs. “Oh, come on. I’m not that ugly.”

  Rebecca stares at me a few feet away, jaw unhinged. “You—” She can barely get the word out. Her glasses hang half off her face. She shoves them back onto her nose. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  For some reason, that puts my back up. What does she mean, it shouldn’t have happened? She was into it. I was into it. End of story.

  “You seemed to be enjoying it about ten seconds ago,” I point out, satisfied when she turns red all the way to the roots of her hair.

  “Yes, but�
��”

  My hand drifts to my erection, and her gaze tracks the movement, a little bit wide, a little bit dazed. She watches as I take a slow pull through the constricting denim. I wish it was her hand doing the touching.

  “Come here,” I growl. My chest resonates with the sound.

  She licks her lips. Sand clings to her hair, the front of her ugly-as-hell dress. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m working for you. This will just make everything messy.”

  I rein in a sigh. “The deal was pretending to be a couple in front of other people, but no one’s here.” I look around at the deserted park. “It’s just us.”

  Rebecca ducks her head, hiding her expression. “This is just physical, right? Nothing more?”

  I don’t answer right away. I’m remembering her hot hands running all over my body, how her nails dug into me with need, the moans that broke the air, hers and mine. Yeah, it’s definitely physical. I’m attracted to Rebecca. I don’t know what it is exactly. It’s like my brain sees everything that’s covered up, and the only thing I care about is peeling away the fabric disrupting my vision. Now that I’ve felt the length of her legs, the dip of her waist and swell of her hips, I want to touch her again and again and again.

  But if I’m being honest, it’s not solely physical. She has a great personality. And I trust her. That counts for something.

  From Rebecca’s expression, I know she’s considering it. But the logical part of her brain wins in the end. She shakes her head, and it kind of bugs me how fast my stomach drops at the sting of rejection. “I know you don’t think it’ll get messy, but trust me, it will.” Something flashes across her face but is gone too quickly for me to discern. “It’s better to keep things the way they are. We’ll pretend to be a couple until the end of the semester, and then that’s it.” She opens her mouth as if she might add to that, then shuts it.

  I’m still hard as a rock. “If you’re sure.”

  She lifts her chin. “I am.”

  Rising to her feet, she brushes the sand from her dress. “I’d like to go home, please.”