I choke off a laugh. Move to her ear, where I tug the lobe between my teeth. “More what?” I wonder if she feels what I feel, if she wants what I want. More truth. More love. More happiness. More everything.
Every time Rebecca touches me, my thoughts scatter. It’s the most potent of drugs, hazing along the fringe of my consciousness. I want to make her beg, want to drive her out of her mind with pleasure, want the satisfaction of knowing that I fill her, that she doesn’t want anyone else but me.
Before I know what’s happening, she slips from my grip, the slickness of our skin allowing her the ease to pull away and switch places. Now she pushes me against the wall, molding her softness against me. “That’s better,” she says.
Just as my hands cup her breasts, Rebecca steps out of reach. “Ah ah.” She holds up an index finger. “Rule number one: no touching unless I give you permission.”
A combination of challenge and intrigue surges inside of me. I lower my hands to my sides. “Is that all?”
“Rule number two—” She ponders for a second. “You have to tell me when you’re close to coming.”
My voice is deep and growly. Bumps scatter over my naked skin at the thought of her bringing me to that pinnacle, then letting off before I tip over the edge. “I can do that.” My fingers twitch with the need to touch her. “And the third rule?”
A smile of truly breathtaking proportions breaks across her face. “Have fun.” It’s said in a way that suggests she’ll definitely be enjoying this.
The water streams down Rebecca’s back as she lowers to her knees. I reach over and pass her my shirt to use for a cushion. I’m more concerned with her bruising than I am having a wet shirt. Her face hovers less than a foot away from my cock. She stares at it, and I stare at her. At her beautiful round ass and the smooth expanse of her back. Rebecca touches her nose to my stomach. A quiver rolls through me. “You are so delicious to look at, I could just eat—you—up.” She punctuates the words with nips along my hip bone.
A muffled sound of pure need snags in my chest. Licking a trail to my belly button, she dips her tongue inside. My head thunks back against the wall.
My hands are fists at my side. I need to touch her. I need to tangle my fingers in her hair and move her mouth to the place where I want it most.
When she wraps her hand around me, I suck in a sharp breath. A charge zings down my spine. I’m watching her with feverish eyes as she leans close to the engorged head, but then pauses an inch away, tilting back her head to take in my expression. Her eyes glitter in the half-light.
“Put your mouth on me.” My voice is so low it’s a miracle she hears it at all.
Challenge sparks in her gaze, but she does what I say, wrapping her lips around the tip, still looking upward. Ah fuck. A ripple runs through my body as my muscles lock up. Seriously, I should get a God damn metal for the amount of restraint I’m showing.
She works me over leisurely. Lapping at the head, the pad of her thumb slides along my cock vein. The feeling of wanting to move, create more friction, begins to build. The tingle grows more insistent. My hips move in shallow jerking motions.
When she takes me deep, my legs go rigid. I utter a string of filthy expletives before I hear something. A sound that doesn’t belong.
I grasp her head, stilling her movements. The creak of hinges. Then: “Mitchell? You here?”
Rebecca’s eyes widen in panic. I make a motion for her to keep quiet before turning to look over the shower divide. Casey strolls in, looking as exhausted as one could after two hours of running drills. I keep my voice casual and even go so far as to lean my elbow on the wall dividing Casey and I. “Hey, man. I thought you and Austin left.”
He stands by the long bench running the length of the lockers. “Austin’s waiting in the car. Just wanted to let you know we’re going to grab some drinks at Ray’s if you want to join.”
The water begins to run cold. Rebecca’s hand is still wrapped around my erection. I don’t expect her to do anything while Casey stands mere feet away. But when she gives my dick a small squeeze, as if reminding me of who’s in charge here, I brace a hand on the wall, my gasp strangled. She’s a tease. Rebecca Peterson is a fucking tease.
“Uh—” Casey trails off. “You feeling okay, Mitch?”
“Sure.” The words come out pinched. My other hand tangles in her wet hair, hoping it will stop her torture. “Never better.”
“Sound kind of constipated.”
I laugh, and it’s nothing short of maniacal as she jacks me slowly, her thumb brushing against the tip every so often. This girl is playing with so much fire right now. Should Casey step around the divide, he’d see everything. “You’re right. I’ve been having trouble shitting lately, it’s true.”
In my peripheral vision, I see Rebecca press one hand against her mouth to muffle the laughter. Casey watches me with concern.
“You should probably get that looked at,” my friend says.
Maybe it’s messed up, but I’m getting turned on from the thrill of Casey standing on the other side of the half-wall. “Will do,” I manage in a rough voice. “How long will you two be at Ray’s?”
He stares at me. “Not sure. Probably an hour or two.”
“I’ll stop by if I have the time.”
“Sounds good. Peace.”
The locker room door shuts. Close to twenty seconds pass before I haul Rebecca to her feet and take that sinful mouth in a possessive kiss, the cooling water sizzling against my hot skin. I slant my mouth across hers, our teeth clacking together. It’s all animal instinct. It’s hard and fast and sloppy but it’s real, it’s everything I’m feeling and everything she’s feeling, and together, the fire burns hotter, brighter. As her moan slips into my mouth, we merge together, heart and breath. Her arms twine around my neck, pulling me closer.
I hoist Rebecca up, murmuring, “Wrap your legs around my waist. That’s it, baby.” Then I press her against the wall again, my bulge nudging her core. The touch spears desire through me. There’s a condom in the pocket of my shorts I’ll need to grab.
Rebecca smiles against my mouth. “I told you someone was going to walk in.”
With a chuckle, I skim a gentle touch across her cheekbone. “I regret not listening to you.”
Water streams down our bodies, growing colder as the moments pass. And suddenly there’s a shift between us as Rebecca draws away. I can’t see it, but I can feel her withdrawal. And I don’t like it. I want her to be open with me just as I am with her.
I lean forward and kiss her nose. “Why the long face?”
She wiggles, telling me without words to set her down. It feels like whiplash. Like I’m missing a piece of vital information. Her voice is off as she says, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
My hands grip her waist perhaps harder than necessary. “All right.” Slow, cautious.
As she takes a breath, dread sloshes through my stomach. “It’s about your gala.”
It takes me a moment to respond. “What about it?”
When her gaze drops, alarm bells clang in the back of my head again. Something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.
She says, “I know I said I’d be able to make it, but my boss switched my hours at the restaurant. He needs me to work that evening.” Another pause. “I’m sorry.”
I pull away so we’re no longer touching. Her eyes are serious. Everything about her is serious. “Rebecca, I told you about this gala months ago. It was in the contract.” My voice sounds strange even to me. I search her eyes, hoping to find answers. She won’t even look at me.
“I know, but things have changed.”
I step away. Move around to where my pile of clothes rests. I tug on my shirt, followed by my boxers, not bothering to dry off with the towel. “Look, if you don’t want to do this anymore, then tell me. You don’t have to make up an elaborate story to save my feelings. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
“It’s not that.”
&
nbsp; “Don’t tell me it’s not that!” Once I’m dressed, I glare at her. My hurt and confusion are written all over my face, because I don’t understand. What caused this sudden change? Has it been here the whole time, and I’m only now noticing it? That would fucking blow. I don’t know. I don’t know a damn thing. “If you don’t feel anything for me, fine, but don’t lie about it.”
“If you’ll just let me explain—”
“You know what? I don’t want to hear it. It’s my fault for thinking this was anything more than a convenience anyway. It was always just a contract, right?”
She lowers her eyes to the floor.
I toss her the towel. I’m so angry I could punch a hole in the wall. But I don’t. I walk out the door. And I don’t look back.
Chapter 24
rebecca
As soon as I arrive home that evening, I flop onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling, feeling like I just ran ten miles through a desert without water. My limbs feel weak. My mouth is dry, and my throat is tight. I have no idea how I managed not to break down on my walk home. It seems like it’s blow after blow after blow, and I don’t want to fight anymore.
Over and over, Mitchell’s final parting words cut into me. It was always just a contract. If he had said that months ago, I would have agreed with him. But now? It’s become so much more.
I couldn’t keep lying to him. After walking out of Dr. Stevens office last week, I made the decision to end our fake relationship. It wasn’t fair to him, to either of us. I couldn’t continue the fake relationship when I wanted more, and I couldn’t continue my wallflower charade when that’s not the real me. I despise who I’ve become, and for what? The sake of higher education? Pleasing my advisor?
It’s my fault for letting things escalate in the locker room. As soon as I walked through that door, I planned on coming clean. But he smiled, making me feel like the only woman alive, and I thought, just this once. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him.
A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. Katie sticks her head in, hair pulled into an elaborate updo and plum lip gloss slicked over her mouth. She takes in the devastation cutting cruel lines in my face. “What’s wrong?” She steps into my room and shuts my door.
My eyes fill, and I’m helpless against the onslaught of emotion. My words are a croak. “I broke things off with Mitchell.”
“Oh, Becca. Oh, honey.” She passes me a tissue from my night stand, then changes her mind and dabs at my eyes herself. “I know it feels shitty right now, but you did the right thing.”
I nod, glum. She’s right. I know she’s right. But I wish it didn’t hurt so much.
I love him. I can’t seem to spit it out. Doesn’t matter, I guess. It’s over now. I’ll have to avoid the areas where he hangs out. And no way in hell will I be stepping foot onto the soccer field.
Katie asks, “What are you going to do now?”
With a sigh, I sit up and lean against the headboard. “Avoid him at all costs. Try to salvage my thesis. Drink too much, probably.”
Abruptly, Katie stands up in excitement. “I have an idea. How about you and I take a night out, huh? I mean, school is almost over. Graduation is only two weeks away. You deserve a break. You’re stressed, overworked, and now sad. Let’s go to Ray’s. Relax a bit.”
“No.” Panic spikes, my heart rate not far behind. “Not Ray’s.” I can’t risk running into Mitchell or his friends. If I saw his face, I’m not sure what I’d do. Run in the opposite direction, maybe. Beg him for forgiveness, even though I don’t deserve it.
“Ruby’s, then.”
Ruby’s is a nice wine dive a few miles down the road. It should be quiet tonight, since it’s a Tuesday. A glass of red wine sounds great right about now.
“Give me ten minutes to get dressed,” I say.
She nods and closes the door behind her.
I give myself a little pep talk as I rummage through my closet for something to wear. The hideous dresses used for my fake persona are squished in the corner, and I don’t ever plan on wearing them again. I pass them by, deciding I’ll drop them off at Goodwill this week. I need to wear something that’s distinctly more me.
“This’ll be good for you,” I say to myself, forcing a wide smile. Research shows that smiling increases the dopamine levels in your brain. “You’ll graduate and land a research position in your dream school.” The pain in my chest twinges. My smile is now so forced my cheeks ache. “It was all just a game, and you agreed to play it. It’s your own damn fault.”
Here we are. I pull the scrap of fabric out of the closet, holding it in front of myself as I stand before the full-length mirror. The dress is shiny, black, and indecent. Just what I need. To show a little skin. To feel wanted and whole and alive. I smile again, and this time, it’s real.
Ruby’s is most definitely a step up from Ray’s. Or rather, ten steps up. It’s smaller, intimate, with brick walls, open pipes along the vaulted ceiling, and a lot of chrome and glass. The red velvet couches are plush enough to sink into, with low wooden tables to set your drinks on. There’s live music playing tonight. Jazz. Exactly what I need. I’m on my second glass of wine and most of my worries have drifted away.
Katie leans against me and drops her head onto my shoulder with a smile. The sweetness of her perfume drifts over. “I’m happy you came out tonight. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I say, sipping my wine. Much, much better. I can’t even remember what I was upset about, honestly. Why would I have any reason to be upset? I’m young. I’m going to graduate with honors. It was silly to be upset over a boy who was just using me to get his father off his back. When I want a relationship, it’ll be with someone who loves me, because I deserve that. I deserve to be wanted, to be loved. I’m not interested in games.
And someday, I’ll find that. I won’t have to guess. I won’t have to feel ashamed for wanting more, feeling more. I’ll want for nothing because I’ll already be fulfilled.
A piano, guitar, drums, and saxophone comprise the band. They’re a group of middle-aged men of varying ethnicities with beards and long, shaggy hair. For a minute or two, they ascend into a lively rhythm, the drums soft and percussive in the background while the saxophone soars to the top of the high ceiling rafters. I always thought it would be cool to play an instrument, but my parents firmly set me on the academic track. No music, no sports, no dance, no clubs. Instead, it was homework, debate team, and private tutoring for me.
Setting my empty glass on the side table, I wrap my arm around Katie’s shoulder. “Do you ever wonder,” I murmur into my friend’s ear a little sloppily, “what life would be like if we didn’t do the things we’re good at? Like, if you never got into cooking? If I never got into research? Where we’d be now?” Because I think of that sometimes. Where I’d be if I had never stepped foot onto Duke’s campus. Who I’d be.
She nods with a small smile. “Sure, I do.”
I perk up at that. She has? “Where would we be?”
The smile grows into a grin. “Why, together, of course.”
My chest warms, and my eyes grow damp. Damn the wine. “I love you, Katie.”
Her eyes are shiny too. “Same.”
“You also love yourself?”
Her chuckle tickles my own laughter free, and we slump against one another, giggling like school girls. I grab her wine glass and set it down because I think she might spill it.
Abruptly, Katie grows contemplative. “Hey, don’t you know those guys?”
I follow to where she points. Illuminated by the low lighting from the chandeliers overhanging the bar, two guys sit chatting with one another. One has his back to me. The other I recognize on sight.
My spine snaps straight and my stomach sloshes in discomfort. Austin and Casey.
But where’s Mitchell?
I slide down deeper into the sofa, trying to use Katie’s body as a shield. I’m not dressed as Frumpy Rebecca tonight. I’m dressed as the girl they saw at Ray’s all
those months ago. While Casey might not notice, Austin is too keen. I wonder how long they’ve been there. The bar was mostly empty when we arrived.
Though it’s dark and I’m practically sliding onto the floor, I’m still in Austin’s line of vision should he glance over. Mitchell is nowhere to be found. Which makes me wonder if he’s somewhere else in the bar, speaking with some girl in a secluded corner, his hand on the small of her back. The thought makes me ill. If that’s the case, I don’t want to witness it. And I don’t want him to see me either.
“Those are Mitchell’s roommates,” I whisper to my friend, still hunched low in the corner of the sofa.
Her eyes pop wide. “Is Mitchell here?”
“I don’t see him.” I feel horrible for asking this, but I say, “Do you mind getting the check?”
One of the reasons I love Katie is because she gets it. She can read a situation perfectly, always knows when to ask questions, when to remain quiet, when to push me because it’s what I need. She is my absolute best friend, and I never take her for granted. “Meet you at the car?”
Relief bulls me over. The car. It’ll be safe in the car. “Thank you.”
Grabbing my purse, I squeeze my way through the packed bodies, wobbling a little on my heels. I probably should have forgone the second glass of wine.
Unfortunately, I have to bypass the bar to reach the entrance. I don’t dare look in their direction. I pray. I plead. If they see me, they’ll ask questions. If they ask questions, they’ll expect answers. I’m not ready to give them any. I want to disappear from their lives. It’s the coward’s way out, but I never claimed I wasn’t a coward.
I’m nearly at the door when I hear, “Rebecca?”
My pulse surges.
Austin.
For a moment, I can’t move. My thoughts are racing. Well, jogging slowly, as the wine definitely inhibits my reflexes.
Immediately, I turn toward the group of people at my right and insert myself into their conversation. I laugh as naturally as I can in response to something someone says. But it must be too forced, because they all stop talking and watch me in confusion. One woman even goes so far as to say, “Who are you?”
Playing the Field ebook final draft Page 19
