End Game (Bad Boy Football Romance) (Cocky Bastards & Motorcycles Book 6)

by Faye, Amy

  "I'm not—"

  "Hey, none of my business." Jane closes the door. "Stay safe, though!"

  Emma turns and pushes past Craig.

  "Goodbye," she says. Her voice sounds hard. Almost mean.

  It's not her intention, though. She opens the door and steps inside and closes it.

  Or, she tries to close it. A foot gets in the way.

  "You don't mind if I sit a minute? I won't try anything, I promise. I don't think I'd like to sit down there, though. Those girls, uh… it'd be an interesting conversation."

  Emma's head spins. It would be real impolite, if she were to refuse, but on the other hand, if she doesn't, then what does that look like?

  What does it matter what it looks like? She knows what's going to happen, and it's going to be nothing. Right?

  "Sure, I guess."

  He pulls the computer chair out from under her desk and spins it around.

  "You carry that box around every week? Heavy."

  "Well, I usually only make a couple stops," she says. "Then I make the rest tomorrow."

  "Yeah, I was gonna say. Usually you just hand it over on Mondays, before your fight clubs."

  Emma almost laughs, but there's a pit in her stomach that won't go away, and she can't make it, no matter how bad she wants it to.

  "I'm sorry, it's a little messy."

  He looks around a minute.

  "Not that bad. You don't even have any bras lying around. Hell, my sisters—you should see their rooms."

  "You have sisters?"

  "Three. Two older, one younger."

  "Oh."

  Someone must have turned up the heat in the room, because it's going right to Emma's head. Worse than that, though, is that it's going right to other places, as well.

  And then, all of a sudden, before she knows it, she's standing up, and she's stepping forward, and her lips are pressed against Craig Weston's. His stubble is scratching her chin, and she doesn't care any more.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Craig had been studiously avoiding looking at Emma. For about the past hour or so, when he could manage it. Which was most of the time. Some of the time.

  Which was why, when her lips came crushing into his, it caught him by surprise for a second. His body stiffens, and then a moment later it relaxes as he remembers what he's doing.

  He pulls her arms in close. It's the first time in a long time that he's shared a kiss with someone. It feels intimate in a way that sex didn't before.

  He kisses her hungrily, always wanting more. Needing more. Emma is only too happy to oblige. Her fingers move around to the back of his head, her hands running through his short hair.

  She lets out a soft groan into his mouth. Craig takes the chance to take one of her lips between his teeth and pull. She presses him back in the chair, her body flush against his, cradled in his arms.

  It's not hard to tell that she's inexperienced, but it's easy to forgive, with all the enthusiasm she's showing. She presses herself forward more, straddling his leg and pushing down.

  Jesus, the way she grinds herself against him—his cock hurts from the way that it presses into his jeans.

  This is a mistake, he suddenly thinks. She's just—Jesus. His hand comes up and pushes her back gently.

  "Emma, are you—"

  "Shut up," she says, and takes his lips again.

  That's good enough for Craig. He wraps his arms around her hips and pulls her in close to him. Even as her crotch rubs in just the right spots against him, her thigh brushes up against his hardness.

  It sends an electric jolt through him, one that drives him that much further out of his mind. There's no room for questioning any more, no room for wondering whether or not this is a good idea.

  They're past that point. Craig's hands move up to cup her breasts. They fill his hands comfortably, neither too much nor too little. A perfect fit.

  He moves away from her mouth, his lips dancing along her jaw, pressing a string of kisses until he reaches the sensitive part of her neck, just below her ear, and then traces a little bit lower.

  Emma bucks against him, his thigh providing an excellent way for her to push her own buttons, and leans her neck into him. Craig takes the hint, and starts to re-trace the line with his teeth, taking little nips that elicit exactly the response he wanted from her.

  "Fuck," she purrs. He doesn't know if she knows she said it out loud. He takes a deeper bite and she stiffens in his arms.

  She tastes sweet, with just enough salt on her skin to make her delicious. To make him want to taste more of her.

  His hands find the hem of her shirt and pull up. Her arms come up to let him pull it off. Craig doesn't have enough time or patience to bother with the clasp of her bra, pushing it up and over the top of her breasts to reveal her dark, tan-colored nipples.

  He pulls one into his mouth hungrily, leaning her back. Emma arches into him as his mouth encircles her areola, his tongue tracing its way in a spiral until he finally flicks her nipple.

  Craig's cock is hard. Too hard to imagine anything but what comes next. He holds himself back. He's got to, for her sake. She doesn't need to tell him that this is her first time doing all this, and he's not going to make it a bad memory of the time that some asshole took everything he wanted and fucked off.

  He presses his hip forward a little bit, a light brush between her leg and his cock sending signals more powerful than anything that he should have felt. She rolls her hips, just like he'd hoped, claiming every bit of pleasure he can offer her.

  Craig pulls her breast free of his mouth. His mouth comes off with a soft 'pop' and then he stands up, distributing the weight of her body between his hips and his arms before setting her down on the bed. She lets out a soft groan of disapproval as his leg pulls away from her sensitive place.

  Craig doesn't let her go without for long, though, replacing it with his hand, pressing through the thick fabric of her jeans, letting her get a small taste of what's going to come next. She presses herself up into him, whatever self-consciousness that had overtaken her long-since gone.

  Craig's other hand works the buttons on her jeans, pulling them apart, undoing the zipper. He takes the opportunity to slip his thick hands inside and start exploring more carefully.

  Her body feels soft and she responds to every little touch, every caress. Then he gets to the place where she's hottest. She's already slick with anticipation. He teases his finger between her lips, teasing her with pleasure before withdrawing himself a little bit.

  Then a little bit more, before he pulls away again. The downy hair on her mound presses into his palm. His fingers probe deeper this time, sinking into her folds as his thumb finds the hardened nub at the top of her pussy and teases it.

  Emma's body jerks with pleasure that she wasn't entirely aware existed, and then he finds pulls up, pressing into her G-spot, and she lets out a moan that she can't suppress nearly so well.

  Craig leans down to take one of her delicious breasts into his mouth again, a mixture of tongue and teeth prodding her nipples to further hardness. Emma's body responds for her, pressing her into him wherever they meet, trying to claim more of whatever she can get.

  Craig can feel himself, painfully hard in his jeans. That's going to come later, though, he tells himself. For now, he's going to force her to cum, whether she likes it or not. Then he can think about himself, about his own pleasure.

  She jerks under him, her own body unsure whether to pull him in closer or to try to jerk away from the over stimulation, and so it tries to do both at once.

  His thumb dances across her clit, his fingers massaging her insides. He can feel them tightening around her, can feel her getting close. She's very close, now.

  "Fuck," she says again. Tighter still, her insides clinging to his fingers, not wanting to let go, not even wanting to let him move them. He keeps going, though, letting her ride out the orgasm as best as she can, until she's laying there, red hair matted to her forehead with sweat.<
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  He pulls his fingers free of her. Her entire body is relaxed, laying there on that bed. She looks over at him, her eyes a little out of focus.

  "Is it always like that?"

  "You tell me," Craig answers. He presses another kiss into her neck.

  "I don't know. That's the first time, you know—"

  "We'll have to find out, then," he says. His teeth sink into the soft flesh around her throat, finding a sensitive, thick vein. She arches into him a little bit. His cock is excruciatingly hard, now.

  She takes a deep breath.

  "What now?"

  "What do you want to do now?"

  Emma lays her head back. Her breasts heave with every deep breath she takes, as if her lungs can't keep up with her body's demand for oxygen.

  "Fuck." She takes a deep breath. "Everything."

  He moves back to her lips, taking a narrow lip between his teeth and biting down a little bit. "Everything? We'll see what we can do."

  She rolls over and kisses him back, leaning on her elbow.

  "Maybe we will."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Emma laid her head back. Her entire body felt light. Weird. Wrong, almost, like it was someone else's body. She'd never felt like any of this before in her entire life. So this is what she was missing out on? Jeez.

  Deep breaths. Her chest burned, her entire body ached. She looked over at Craig, who was standing up beside her. Jesus. Wait. What had she just done? What was she doing?

  Her eyes started blinking.

  "Wait."

  Craig froze. "Everything okay?"

  "Jesus. Fuck. This was a mistake."

  She can see the frustration playing out on his face. It's understandable.

  "Okay," he says. He tightens his belt back up.

  Emma can see his erection, straining against his jeans. He sits back in the chair, not drawing attention to it or mentioning it at all. Emma's attention is drawn in spite of his inattention to it.

  Some part of her expected him to be furious with her. To insist. To say, no, you owe me. That would have made it easier. She could retreat into 'fuck you, I don't have to.'

  "I'm sorry, I just—"

  "Don't be sorry, Em. You want to stop, we stop. Simple as that."

  "You're not mad at me, are you?"

  Craig takes a deep breath. Emma can see that on some level, he's not overjoyed. He's keeping it to himself. "No, I'm not mad."

  "Well, wait—I can, like… with my mouth."

  His jaw tightens. "No, Em. I'm not going to make you do anything."

  She can see that other parts of his body are less chivalrous. The temptation must be there, as strong as anything she'd felt, but he ignores it.

  "I'm sorry. I just—"

  "You don't need to explain."

  He doesn't like that she's trying to explain. He wants to move on. But how can Emma possibly move on? She's the one who made things weird. She did all of this. It's her fault.

  She should have—Deep breath. Her chest expands. She holds the breath. Lets it out.

  She just lost control for a minute. It wasn't something he did. It was something that happened. Totally understandable.

  "I'm sorry, Craig. I know it's not fair."

  "Don't be sorry. Just, don't talk about it, okay?"

  "I don't want you to think that I would…"

  All of this still seems so strange. Surreal. She's not sure how to explain any of it. Not sure how to think about it. And she's sure as hell not sure whether or not she's comfortable saying the words, out loud.

  "I know, Emma. Don't worry about it. You were caught up in the moment, I get it."

  "It's not that—"

  "Stop. Please. Just, for a minute. Please, stop. I don't want to talk about it."

  But Emma does. Because the truth was, she was absolutely ready to go as far as he wanted to push it. Hell, she was ready to drag him across that line if she had to.

  But not if it didn't mean something. Not if all it meant was having some fun in a bedroom. She wasn't that kind of girl. He wouldn't be taking advantage of her; she knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

  And that was why, even though her body ached for it, she had to stop herself.

  But how could she possibly say all that to Craig without coming off like a real bitch? 'Oh, well, I like your body, but I just think you're a scumbag sometimes, and I wanted to avoid that.'

  Craig pulls his shirt back on. Emma isn't sure when it came off, but putting the shirt back on feels like a crime. She sits up, suddenly realizing her own nakedness. Still, it's not as if he hasn't seen it before. Mere moments before.

  "I need to talk about it."

  "Well, we'll talk about it later. Some day. Maybe. Not today. I'm not in the mood."

  Was that some kind of sarcastic remark? Emma recoiled like she'd been slapped. No, it couldn't have been. He wouldn't be like that. Craig wasn't mean like that. She'd never heard him say anything down about her.

  But that didn't stop the idea from finding a comfortable place, right inside her head. What if it had been an intentional dig? What if he was only being nice to her in the hopes of conquering some sort of… 'challenge?'

  "Fine."

  "Thanks."

  He doesn't sound very appreciative. He sounds pretty upset, frankly. It's not that Emma doesn't understand why, because she does. But with all the emotions flying around the room, with all the hormones rushing through her brain…

  "What now?"

  "I don't know," he says. "I should probably go home and fry up a hamburger. Then it's off to bed."

  "Are we still on for this week?"

  "I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he says.

  It sounds like a 'maybe' that leans towards 'no.' Emma wants to tell him everything she's thinking. That's about impossible, though. She's not even sure how she'd start, and the way that it all conflicts with each other…

  "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine, Emma. Don't mother me."

  He stands up. "I'll talk to you some time, then?"

  "Sure."

  Her hand comes up. Emma's not sure what she wanted from him, but she doesn't get it. He turns around and opens the door a little ways. Then, quietly, he steps out and closes the door behind him.

  Jesus Christ almighty. She'd fucked up bad this time. She'd gone further than she ever thought she would, and at the same time she'd pissed Craig off. As if either one wasn't bad enough.

  What was she going to do now? She might as well just give up. There went any hopes she might have had, any funny ideas about there being some kind of thing between them.

  Between the rumors, and the way that he seemed so much more interested than he should have been in seeing her, she'd almost allowed herself to think, for just a minute, that it might mean something, in a for-real kind of way.

  But that was before she'd made a big royal god-damn mess of things. And it wasn't like she could just say, come back, I didn't mean it. Get between my legs, you perfect stud.

  Because even then, it would seem like she was just acquiescing. Giving him what he wanted. It wouldn't seem like she'd been fighting back against that urge the whole time.

  It wouldn't seem one bit like she'd been telling him no because no was the right decision, when her heart and her body both screamed 'yes.' Which meant that no matter what she said, she was going to be giving him all sorts of wrong ideas.

  The best thing was just to let him walk away for now. Eventually, she'd be able to make him see what had happened. She'd find the words to explain herself.

  Until then…

  Emma looked out the window. Craig walked out, across the lawn. She recalled the last time she'd seen him do that. He'd been a scumbag, then. Or, she'd thought he was. Still, a little part of Emma wonders how much she'd misjudged him.

  She'd certainly misjudged herself. It had all been holier-than-thou bullshit up to now. But the minute that she got an opportunity to jump right aboard that train, she was right ther
e, ready to go.

  She was no better than any of the other girls. If they were wrong for him—and nothing told her that any of the dozens of girls who tried to cling to him even still were good enough—then she was, too.

  She wanted to go talk to him. She wanted to make things okay again. She wanted to make him understand that it was just that she wanted to give that part of herself to someone who she loved, and who really loved her.

  And as much as she couldn't be sure, she thought that could be Craig, but she couldn't put words in his mouth. She couldn't just assume that she knew what his feelings were.

  But now she realized her mistake. It wasn't Craig Weston that was wrong in this relationship. He wasn't the problem here.

  Emma Owens, who thought she was above the world and better than everyone else—she was the problem. And she wasn't going to let Craig's problems get worse by putting herself among them.

  Chapter Thirty

  Craig Weston hadn't been turned down in a long time. It was a strangely eye-opening experience, all told. Like he'd learned something. He wasn't sure what it was, and he sure as hell wasn't sure it was an experience he'd want to keep if he could make the decision.

  But he couldn't make the decision. That was the point. There was more to the world than what Craig Weston wanted, and if she didn't want him, she wouldn't have him. That had always been the way it was, but it didn't happen often.

  Now that it had, it came as a surprise, like a slap in the face.

  Class was slower than usual, and it gave him plenty of time to think. Plenty of time to mope, if he was being honest. After the narrow win last week, Coach was pushing them harder, but the truth was that there was nowhere to push Weston.

  They were at the point where they over-relied on him already. What would it mean for the team if he were to widen the gap? Nothing at all. Just a bunch of problems.

  Deep breath again.

  Which meant practice, the only other thing in his day that might have distracted him from his moping, was slow, too. And it was going to be slow going forward.

  Most of it was probably going to be spent memorizing the playbook. A third time. As if he didn't know the whole thing backwards and forwards, as if he hadn't known it backwards and forwards before the first time he stepped onto the field.