Wicked Player

by Lynn, Stacey

  I relaxed into him, and he held me tighter. And when the man in the room slid his hands down to his wife’s core, pressed two fingers in and yanked her to him, behind me, Gage groaned.

  “Will you play with me tonight?”

  It was a question, not a command, the first he’d given me as if he knew this night was our last chance for anonymity.

  It had to be.

  “Yes.”

  I’d give him this, but I wanted more. I would wait. But I wouldn’t wait forever.

  I’d already made that mistake with Connor and learned from it.

  From behind, his hands went to my head. The cool brush of satin pressed to my forehead and then darkness overtook me.

  It was strange, that satin.

  As soon as it touched my skin, other areas warmed and rose to life, like him cutting off my light had a direct ignition switch to my core.

  His large, warm and rough palm scraped down my arm to my hand and he clasped it in his.

  “I’ll move slow so you don’t have trouble walking.”

  I gripped his hand firmly and leaned into his arm. And together, we went to the back rooms.

  Eighteen

  Elizabeth

  My body was a live wire by the time we entered the room.

  It was the first time we entered together, and it was significant. For the first time, I not only knew who was going to give me unforgettable bliss, but his hand was still clamped in mine.

  The door clicked closed behind us, yet all I felt was the contact of our skin. Hands connected. Bodies warmed. Oh yes.

  We were so doing this.

  “We’re not in the same room,” Gage said. He moved us so I was facing him and his hand went to my shoulder. “Our usual room was taken, but I think based on what you enjoyed from watching that other couple, this one will be just fine.”

  A cross. There had to be.

  “Is that something you want?” he asked. His hand let go of mine, and they were at my hips, sliding beneath my tank top. Hot, burning skin pressed against my sides as he pushed up my shirt.

  I wanted a bed and his body covering mine. But as he touched me, removed my shirt, my arms lifted of their own accord. And then his lips were at my shoulder. The slight scruff of his jaw running along my flesh.

  “You didn’t answer.”

  “Yes. I want that.”

  “Good. Turn around.” He guided me and then there was the rustle of clothes. His hands slid to my back, flicked the clasp of my bra. He slid down the straps of my bra and as fresh cool air hit my breasts, his mouth was there, sucking and tasting, moving from one to the other, lower, until his hands were at my waist.

  I imagined him, all broad shoulder and dark-haired, dropping to his knees before me. “Lift your foot.”

  I listened, lifted one foot, then the other, as he removed my shoes. He reached around and unbuttoned and unzipped my skirt. The soft fabric slid down my thighs, cooling it until his hands followed, dragging down my underwear, and everything warmed.

  Guiding me toward the cross, arousal slid through me.

  “Face me.” His hands at my hips gently guided me backward. “I want to see you as I tease you.”

  “Just tease me?”

  “No. I promise I’ll give you everything you want.” His hand cupped my cheek, fingers at my jaw and then his mouth was on mine. A firm, claiming kiss that stole my breath and filled me with life all while sending me careening out of control.

  I was pliant while he lifted my hands, buckled them in. Instinctively I reached for a bar along the top I knew would be there to hold. And spread my legs. Buckles and snaps. The swoosh of his clothing as he moved. The gentle aroma of his cologne wafted in the air. By the time he had me naked and restrained, I hungered for him. In a way I knew if I lost him, if we didn’t get past the blindfold and pretend secrets and masks, and he walked away from me, it’d take me far longer to get over Gage than it did Connor.

  “Please,” I whispered. He was still at my feet. Hands at my ankles. Running long, sweeping circles up my calves to my knees.

  “Patience.” He kissed my legs, fingertips ran at the backs of my knees, lips brushed along my inner thighs. He moved closer to my sweet spot, teasing brushes of his fingers and lips on my skin in places that shot sparks of flames throughout my body. “All good things come to those who wait.”

  I’d waited long enough. And patience had never been my strong suit.

  I arched into him, buckles and straps clanking as I jerked toward him.

  “Ah, ah eh,” Gage teased, his lips were at my hips. Kissing my hip bones. My stomach. His hands followed, thumbs swiping at my core and sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “Stay here like a good girl and take what I give you and I promise you’ll have everything you need.”

  He slid his fingers through my center, already wet and ready for him. “Oh. Look at you. Was it watching the couple that got you this wet or was it me?”

  It’d been thinking of him looking at me like that man had worshipped his woman that had started all of it. “You,” I breathed, as he slid two fingers slowly into me. “It was you.”

  His mouth hit my ear, his fingers crooked inside of me. My pulsed race, my breathing went ragged. “Oh God,” I gasped, my head fell forward. At some point, he’d shed his shirt and my forehead pressed to the hardened curve of his chest.

  “I love how easily you’re turned on. How wet you get for me. How much you want it all the time.” He slid his fingers in and out of me, teasing me with his words and his touch and the slick skin on his chest. “I also like that with you here, I could torture and tease you for hours, but we don’t have all night do we?”

  We didn’t? I’d take all night with him. He kissed me. Slid his tongue into my waiting mouth. He tasted like heaven and hope, promises fueled by secrets. I came while he devoured my mouth, gasping and finding the peak, leaping freely.

  “You’re beautiful when you come,” he whispered. His lips were lifted into a grin, pressing to the corner of my cheek. “And as much as I’d like to keep you here for hours, I also want to feel you against me. Let’s save this fun for another day, shall we?”

  “Yes. I’d like that.”

  And perhaps next time, I’d be able to see his face when he made me come instead of relying solely on my imagination.

  * * *

  Amanda clinked her glass against mine. “Talk.”

  “Hmm?”

  I’d gotten out of calling off our drinks the other night, but now it was Thursday Happy Hour, and I had no excuse to get out of drinks with her or her persistent questions.

  It was part of what made her a good reporter. It was part of why having reporters as friends totally sucked.

  Plus, I wasn’t going to say no. Not after the morning I spent at the hospital. They’d opened up the new wing as a soft opening for only the current patients and their families to enjoy. The official opening was set for next week on the Rough Riders’ bye week. But that morning, I’d spent three hours talking to families, my heart splintering more and more throughout the day as each story made its way not only to my notebook and tablet but to my heart. I alternated between wanting to break down and cry with many of the parents, craving to wrap the kids in healing hugs, and avoiding Gage at all costs.

  That alone had taken so much effort, I was exhausted.

  I usually had much more fun than I was having that day.

  My head was in the clouds. Amanda noticing wasn’t surprising. It also didn’t surprise me she called me on it. That was Amanda. Brash and bold, beautiful with blazing red hair. Amanda was essentially every good word that started with the letter B combined into one human. And yes, bitch was a compliment when used appropriately.

  But good Lord I did not want to talk about what was on my mind.

  I was sleeping with Gage Bryant.

  Correction: Gage Bryant was fucking me and I was falling in love with him when we hadn’t acknowledged we even knew each other. If there was a picture in the dictionary
of “girls who make the worst decisions of men to fall in love with,” mine would be plastered in a full page spread in bright, vivid colors.

  This was worse than selfish Connor thinking he could use me, toss me aside, and pick me back up again when his new toy lost her shine.

  Gage had a power over me that was different than the rest. I was falling for him despite the risks. His heart with the children. His entire life story. His focus. His character.

  And I hadn’t even seen his face while we were fucking. How screwed up was I?

  “Earth to Beth.”

  I blinked. Amanda was waving her hand in front of my face giving me crazy eyes.

  “Okay. There’s a guy I like. It’s new. And it’s uncertain. So no, I don’t want to talk about it more but I’m just going to say what I do like is good. Really, really good.”

  And scary as hell.

  “See? That’s the spirit.” She leaned closer, rested her arms on the table. “Now tell me everything.”

  Yeah. Amanda was sweet and fun and a really good friend. She was also vanilla as they came. Telling her how I liked my sex? Never. Gonna. Happen.

  I tipped my glass to my lips. Club soda and lime. I was so hung up on Gage even alcohol didn’t sound like fun. “That’s all you’re getting, woman.”

  “Elizabeth?”

  My gaze slid toward the feminine voice and my drink froze at my mouth.

  “Hi!” It was Shannon. Powell’s wife. Next to her, Paige Hale was grinning. She lifted her hand in a silent hello. Before I could even respond, Shannon slid next to me. “Here Paige sit across from me.” She flung her arm around me and yanked me to her. My head bounced off her shoulder and I fought a wince. “How awesome to see you here! How are you?”

  “Shannon. You’re scaring the normal people.”

  “Please.” She rolled her eyes at Paige and let me go. Good Lord that woman had a grip of steel. “I’m not scary. I’m playful.”

  Across from me, Amanda’s eyes bounced like ping-pong balls and she sputtered into her drink. “You’re Shannon Powell.” Her head whipped to Paige. “And Beaux’s wife.”

  “Yes.” Paige grinned playfully. “I also have a name. Paige Hale.”

  “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry. So sorry, that was so rude of me.”

  I sat back and glanced at Shannon. “Excuse her. She’s excitable. Shannon and Paige, this is my friend and co-worker, Amanda.”

  “Lovely to meet you,” Shannon said.

  Paige and her exchanged greetings and when they were done, Amanda raised her brows in my direction. The classic silent, oh we’re talking about this later, twerp look all good friends know how to dish and receive.

  “So what are y’all doing tonight?”

  Amanda tipped her martini glass in Shannon’s direction. “You’re looking at it. Elizabeth and I always head out for a few drinks after work on Thursday. You?”

  Paige shrugged. “Window shopping and dinner. Mind if we join you? I figured I’d ask since Shannon didn’t give y’all a choice for more company.”

  “It’d be wonderful,” I said. They’d been really sweet in the elevator even if it was only for a few minutes.

  The waiter came by, took their drink orders and while we were waiting for them to arrive, Paige turned to me. “So, Beaux said Gage is really impressed with your stories these last couple of weeks.”

  It took massive effort not to sputter my drink over the table. “Excuse me?”

  “Yeah. Beaux told me that Gage was going on and on about you.” She folded her arms on the table and leaned in. “So, how are the stories going?”

  Her head tilted to the side, blonde hair falling over one shoulder.

  Right. The story. The hospital. That’s what she was talking about.

  I was stuck on the fact he’d actually talked about me. To teammates? And he’d been watching my stories?

  It was too much information, too much heat slithering up my neck to my cheeks.

  “Good. It’s been fun. Challenging to make sure it’s about the hospital and not the athlete, but overall, I’ve been enjoying it.”

  Next to me, Shannon chuckled. “I bet you’re enjoying it. Gage is freaking hot. And nice.”

  “Really nice,” Paige cut in. “Sexy and sweet. He’s really like the perfect package.”

  Shannon sighed. “So much less of a jerk than my guy.”

  I narrowed my eyes on her. “You’re married to ESPN’s sexiest athlete of the year. Four years running.”

  “Well yeah. No one can deny his hotness. But he’s also bossy. Arrogant.”

  Paige rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Oliver’s demanding they have a baby. Shannon wants to wait. She doesn’t like the fact he keeps talking to her about it.”

  Amanda’s brows almost flew off her forehead with shock. “You don’t want to have his baby? Are you nuts?”

  “I do. But I practically raised Beaux. And it’s only been a couple of years.” She shrugged and picked at a fingernail. “I finally have a job I love and the best husband when he’s not being a bossy jerk. I just want it to be us a while longer. Is that so bad?”

  “No. It’s not bad at all.” Everyone knew Beaux’s story. Raised practically by his older sister. Their mom had worked her tail off to keep a roof over their heads and she ended up passing away when Beaux was still in high school. But it was Shannon who’d always been there for him. Who could fault her for a little more time to enjoy being married before she jumped into raising a family of her own?

  “It’s not bad,” I assured her. “I’m sure Oliver will understand. But I totally get where you’re coming from.”

  “Thanks. Now get Paige to understand, too.”

  “Me?” Paige said. Her hand went to her chest. “But I want to be an Aunt.”

  “Then become a mom and have your own kids if you want to spoil someone.”

  “For your information,” Paige smirked. “Beaux and I are going to start trying as soon as the season’s over. So I think if you and Oliver have babies, then we can have babies together and that’d be the best thing ever.”

  Shannon squealed and somehow the conversation turned to excited, animated talk of babies and Aunts and Uncles and presents and all things girlie.

  We shared drinks with them, ate some dinner, and by the time dinner was done, and Paige and Shannon were handing out hugs and exchanging numbers, Amanda and I had both made two new friends. It always surprised me how quickly someone could enter your life in the most random fashion, and yet it suddenly felt like you’d known them forever. With Shannon and Paige, it was easy.

  We said our good-bye’s, dishing out hugs and exchanging numbers and as soon as they left, Amanda turned to me with a fresh martini.

  “So…” Amanda sipped her drink. When Amanda wasn’t chugging, it was dangerous. I didn’t have time to brace myself before she threw down the axe. “Gage talks about you?”

  Yeah. Somehow, I figured that was going to come up. Although I was hoping an hour or two of laughter would have made her forget.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Mmm…hmmm.”

  “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” And really, screw the club soda and lime. Tonight was the perfect night to get drunk.

  “We just ate.” Oh. Right. She gave me eyes that said she wasn’t letting this go.

  I gave her eyes that said I didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “Fine. Then I need a drink.” When the waiter returned, I ordered a martini.

  Later, I took an Uber home. And when I woke up Saturday with a hangover, I had no regrets.

  Nineteen

  Gage

  There was nothing better than Game Day.

  Every time I walked onto the field, I wasn’t there to do a job, I was there to play the game I’d loved since I was seven and I first strapped on a helmet, slammed into a padded dummy held by a volunteer parent coach. I still kept in touch with Coach Mayer. That very first season of youth football embedded the l
ove of the game in my veins. Harrison had passed away a year earlier. I’d promised him I’d play and I’d be the best in the world.

  I might not have been the best, but every time I stepped onto the field, I took it all in. The energy. The excitement. The crazed fans who showed up half-naked with body paint covering their torsos and faces.

  Harrison would have loved every minute, and it wasn’t just my job, but it was my honor to remember him. To slam my fist to my chest and raise a hand high in the air, saluting him, giving myself a second to remember my brother. Sunday was no different. The stands were only a quarter of the way filled, but it was early, and they’d be filled soon. On the field, Philadelphia was already there. I walked on, helmet in my hand, scanned the crowd. The lights. The rumble of noise. It was like being in a tunnel and on top of the world at the same time. Words were shouted above the din, and in our end zone, Hale had on noise-canceling headphones while he warmed up his arm. I’d join him next and practice running routes with just enough energy to warm up our bodies but not wear ourselves out. Powell ran ten-yard sprints. He stopped every once in awhile to slap another player on the shoulder or talk to the offensive coordinator. A handful of defensive linemen warmed up with cardio.

  Reporters and cameramen were setting up and it was the reporters on the field level box behind the padded walls where my attention finally settled.

  Mostly to a pretty little blonde, long waves draped over her shoulders almost concealing the teal and blue jersey she wore.

  To my shock, eighteen was stamped in bright white letters right across her front.

  She was wearing my number. And seeing her in it knowing my name was stamped across her shoulder blades at the back, rocked me to my feet.

  I hadn’t wanted Thursday to go as it had. I’d wanted to take my time with her, to slide inside of her and remove her blindfold, but there was something about the moment we shared after I took her off the cross, after I stripped out of my clothes and laid her on the bed.

  I’d crawled up her body, kissing every inch of her skin, chuckling as she arched into me, rolled her hips up to meet mine.