Not breaking eye contact, I stood there staring her down, waiting for her to break. After a full minute of nothing but heavy breathing as we each waited for the other to say something, I relented. Besides, hopefully the lovely Justine from the front desk would be here shortly. Moving into the bathroom, I flicked on the harsh, bright light and almost had a heart attack.
Emma’s purse was tipped over on the sink and there was shit everywhere. Like stuff I didn’t even know what the hell it was, and there was even less chance I was about to ask. Kicked on the floor were a pair of jeans and hanging over the shower rod was the sexiest, skimpiest bra I’d ever seen. It was green, the same emerald colour as her eyes, and made completely of satin and lace. While I stood there, imagining her perky boobs wrapped up in lace and satin, Emma called out, interrupting my trance.
“Did you get lost? They should be on the floor.”
Forcing my fantasy to the back of my brain to be called upon at a later date, I bent down and untangled her underwear from the leg of her jeans. They weren’t as skimpy as I wished but they weren’t saggy arse, granny panties either. Briefly I wondered if I’d get to see her in them. A guy could dream. And he most certainly would.
I might not be able to convince her to model them for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have some fun with her. “You mean these?” I taunted, stepping out of the bathroom, spinning them around on my finger like an emerald-green frisbee.
“What are you? Twelve?” she huffed, pouting those pretty pink lips I could imagine seeing wrapped around me.
Shit! I scolded myself. I needed to get this line of thinking out of my head. Sweatpants were unforgiving. And from the way my cock was twitching, I was only minutes away from making myself look like a complete tool. Well, giving her an eyeful of my tool.
“Actually,” I said, sticking my hand out towards her only for her to snatch them up. “I’m thirteen.”
Before we could get into the inevitable argument that was only seconds away from exploding over size versus age, a knock at the door rattled me back to the problem at hand.
“You get that. I’ll put these…on.”
Conceding defeat, for now, I headed for the door throwing it open dramatically. The woman standing there looked bored and disinterested. I wasn’t entirely surprised. From her attitude on the phone I didn’t have high expectations.
“Mr. Masters. What seems to be your issue?” she asked in a jaded tone, not meeting my eye.
“Well, Justine,” I replied, eyeing her name tag that was crooked but then again so were the buttons on her shirt. No wonder she didn’t want to be here. We’d interrupted her. I should feel guilty. I’d be pissed if someone interrupted me while I was busy getting busy. I mean, I didn’t, but I should. “It seems that Ms. Hardy here, was given a key to my room instead of her own. How can that even happen?”
Emma came to stand beside me. It looked bad. Even I knew that. All she was wearing was my shirt and the sheet tied around her waist. “You told me I was in room seven twenty-four. But Bryce is already in this room.”
“No. I said you were in room seven twenty-two,” Justine deflected quickly.
“No. I distinctly remember you saying seven twenty-four. You even wrote it down on that little cardboard thingy you put the key in. Where is that? Hang on.” Emma was cute when she was worked up. I couldn’t wait to have some fun.
As she headed for the bathroom where she’d undoubtedly flung the key, she tripped on the end of the sheet, letting out a long list of expletives that would impress even the boys in the change rooms. Me though, I was stunned to silence as those panties I’d been envisioning appeared before me. They weren’t the typical arse-floss type that most girls wore. They were better. I’d always heard less was more, but I’d never believed it until this very moment. They were those cheeky shorts with just enough peeping out the bottom to have my jaw hitting the floor.
Emma had two choices. She could curl up in a ball on the bathroom floor, cover herself in the sheet and pray for the ground to open up and swallow her. Or, she could own it. March out here, unaffected and sort this out.
“Here!” Emma said practically throwing the card at Justine who was still stunned. Or maybe she was as into Emma’s sexy arse as I was. Not that I’d ever judge for that. Justine eyed the card, her eyes widening as she realised her mistake.
“It says seven twenty-four,” she murmured quietly.
“Exactly.”
“Look I’m sorry. I was distracted. You weren’t supposed to be in this room,” Justine started backtracking, realising this could land her in a fuck tonne of trouble. “Let me run down and get you the card to your own room. You’re just across the hall. Just give me a second and I’ll get this sorted for you.”
As much as I wanted to prove a point, I was tired, it was late and for Justine, the penny had just dropped that there was an issue here. “That’d be great. Thanks,” I managed to get out barely a second before she bolted down the hallway.
“I’ll get my stuff and get out of here as soon as she comes back,” Emma offered slipping into the bathroom.
I watched her go.
If I was a betting man, something I definitely was not because I’d get kicked out of the game for even a stupid bet, I’d put money on her adding a bit of sway to her curvy hips as she sashayed her arse into the bathroom before I heard the definitive click of the door.
Ten minutes later and Justine had delivered a new key card, an apology and a couple of bottles of champagne before scampering away. Every second she was here, she refused to meet my eye. Maybe she was embarrassed by her stuff up or even the way she acted. More likely though was Justine was terrified I’d tell her boss what had happened, something she should be concerned about because I had every intention of doing exactly that. Right now, though, I had more important things to focus on.
“Got everything?” I asked Emma as she hoisted her handbag onto her shoulder before grabbing her bottle of bubbles. Good to see she had her priorities sorted.
“Yep,” she replied with a yawn, not that I could blame her; it was getting really late– or early, depending on how you wanted to look at it.
“Where’s your bag?” I asked, glancing around the room for her suitcase.
“Good question.” When I shot her a confused look, Emma continued. “Airline lost it. Hopefully, it’ll show up in the morning.”
“Oh. Okay then.”
“Okay then. Well, I guess this is goodnight.”
“I guess so.”
Why the fuck was this so awkward? It wasn’t like Emma was a one-night stand or some chick I’d just banged for the last couple of hours that I was throwing out of my room. She was, from what I could tell at least, a pretty decent girl who’d got caught up in someone else’s stuff up.
With another yawn, Emma reached for the door handle. “Thanks, Bryce.”
“For what?”
“For not being a complete arsehole about this.”
“A complete arsehole?”
“Well, you did check out my boobs.”
“You can’t really hold that against me. I mean, I’m a dude and they were right there.”
“Yeah. Fine. Okay. But seriously, thanks for understanding.” She reached up on her toes and planted a soft, innocent kiss on my stubble-covered jaw.
I watched her slip out the door dressed in skin-tight jeans, my shirt and her muddy shoes dangling from her fingertips. She was fucking stunning. And I should know. She’d stunned me. Who knew a girl wearing no makeup, her hair a mess, would be the most adorable thing I’d ever seen? Let alone the fact I knew what adorable meant.
Standing in the doorway like a creeper, I waited until the green light flashed and she pushed open the door to her own room. “Emma? Have lunch with me tomorrow,” I blurted out.
Spinning around, she looked confused. If I was being honest, so was I. Where that had come from, I had no idea, but I also had no desire to take it back either. After looking up and down the hall, probably c
hecking to make sure we hadn’t woken the whole floor, she questioned me, “What?”
“Come to lunch with me tomorrow?” I whisper-yelled. The idea might’ve caught me off guard but now I’d had a second to think it through, I was more than happy with it.
“When?”
“We’ll leave here at twelve?”
For a moment she looked like she was about to turn me down. Not that I could blame her. She really had no reason to trust me. Other than knowing what I looked like in my boxers and that I was pretty much a perv, she knew very little about me. Turning me down would’ve been the smart thing to do. So, when Emma agreed, I was shocked.
“Get some sleep, Emma. I’ll knock on your door at twelve.”
“Night, Bryce,” she replied sleepily before stepping inside the door and letting it click shut behind her.
CHAPTER FOUR
EMMA
I was going to kill him.
Bryce Masters, yep I had his surname now, was going to die. Even if it meant I had to strangle him with my hair tie.
If only I had someone to blame other than myself, I’d be much happier. But this whole thing was one hundred percent my fault.
When I woke up this morning, thankfully in my own hotel room with my phone blaring, I figured it was all a dream. A very nice one, but a dream, nonetheless. Then I looked down at the shirt I’d slept in and reality smacked me in the face. It had actually happened. I’d climbed into a stranger’s bed and snuggled up against him. Naked. Couldn’t forget that fun little fact, not even if I tried.
“What?” I snapped as I answered the ringing phone.
“Geez! Who pissed in your Weetabix?”
Ah, Vanessa. Could always count on her to be a delight first thing in the morning. “I wish.”
“What happened to you last night? You never made it.”
“You’d never believe me if I told you,” I admitted as I tried to brush my hair out of my face and rub the sleep out of my eyes.
“Breakfast?”
“Hell yeah!” She’d said the magic word. Now I was awake.
“Meet you in the lobby in half an hour?”
“Sounds good,” I confirmed. “Are Sienna and Jessie joining us?”
“Not this morning. Let me jump in the shower and I’ll fill you in when I see you.”
“Done. See you shortly.”
Hanging up, I dropped my head back down against the mountain of pillows. Laying there, staring at the ceiling, I was trying to piece together how I’d ended up with a lunch invite today from possibly the hottest guy I’d ever seen even after everything that had happened last night. Trying to ignore the tingling feelings taking over my body, I grabbed the collar of his shirt that I was still wearing, tugging it up to my nose and breathed in his scent. It was intoxicating and addictive and I was completely under his spell. Not that I was about to confess that any time soon.
After spending too long fantasising about the man across the hall, I threw off the blankets and jumped in the shower. By the time I made it downstairs, I was dying to get Vanessa’s take on everything. This wasn’t real life, at least it wasn’t mine.
Turns out, I wasn’t the only one living in some kind of weird bubble. Sienna still hadn’t surfaced after disappearing with some guy she’d met last night, and Jessie, well right about now she was regretting the tequila and champagne combo she’d tried to drown her emotions in.
As we walked back to the hotel, Vanessa questioned my sanity, not that I could blame her. “Are you really going to go to lunch with him?”
“You don’t think I should?” Part of me was hoping she said no. At least then if I bailed, I’d have someone else to blame.
“Hell, yeah you should go. It’s Bryce Masters.”
“So?” I asked, confused. Yeah, I knew his name. I also knew what his six pack abs looked like right down to the tiny freckle just near his belly button.
“You have no idea who that is, do you?”
“Of course, I do!”
“Look at this,” Vanessa commanded, shoving her phone into my hand.
“Holy shit!” Okay, maybe I didn’t know as much as I thought I did.
Staring back at me was Bryce’s profile. It had his birthday listed, his parents’ names, brother’s name and profession. “Fuck me sideways!” I gasped, earning me a dirty look from the perfectly made-up woman strutting down the street like it was a runway. “He’s a…a…”
“Footballer. Yep.”
“Explains the muscles,” I shrugged, trying to play it down.
“So, what are you wearing then?”
“Shit, Vanessa! I don’t have any clothes!”
“Well then, it’s a good thing I attempted to melt my credit card yesterday, isn’t it? Let’s go make you pretty.”
“I don’t even have a hairbrush!” I was sliding straight into full-on panic mode.
“Oh, sweetie, you think I can’t tell? That’s cute. Come on.” She tugged on my arm, urging me to get a move on. “We’ve got just over an hour before Prince Charming in short shorts decides to knock on your door and hopefully your headboard.”
My mouth fell open as I gasped at Vanessa’s insinuation. I should’ve been offended. I mean, I wasn’t, but I should’ve been. I wasn’t the type of girl who’d just jump into a guy’s bed after one date, if this even was a date. Was it? Oh my god. I didn’t even know. This had disaster written all over it.
I should’ve trusted my instincts not the horny devil on my shoulder, because here I was standing out the front of a house in the suburbs wearing Vanessa’s brand new white capris, her wedges and Bryce’s t-shirt knotted at my hip, trying to give it some shape, freaking out.
“Come on! It’ll be fine,” Bryce promised as he tugged at my hand, leading me down the concrete path to the backyard of his parents’ home. His freaking parents’ home. Who takes someone they just met to their parents’ place? I thought we were going to a restaurant or café or bar or something, not his frigging childhood home.
“I can’t believe you brought me here,” I muttered as I tried not to trip as I kept up with him.
“Come on. I’m starving and Mum makes the BEST potato salad,” Bryce gloated as he manoeuvred me in front of him before pushing me around the corner. I hadn’t known this guy twenty-four hours ago and I was even more confused by the way he seemed to just position me where he wanted me. It was unsettling and frankly a little freaky. I was going to have to keep my wits about me if I had any chance of holding my own.
Rounding the corner, I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. The back yard was huge. Huge and absolutely breathtaking. From the huge gum trees down in the back, to the sparkling pool with the fake waterfall, the sound of running water calmed my nerves. Well, slightly. The moment a happy couple slid open the door and stepped down onto the wide expanse of timber deck, my pulse skyrocketed. Beside me, Bryce must’ve felt my fear, or at least anticipated it, so when he wrapped my hand in his and started rubbing his thumb back and forth against my skin, I took in a deep breath barely a second before I was bustled out of the way and Bryce was wrapped up in who I’m assuming was his mother’s arms.
“I’m so glad you’re home!” she gushed. Her arms wrapped tightly around Bryce’s neck, completely forgetting the bottles of sauce in her hands.
“Mum… I can’t breathe,” Bryce taunted dramatically. She dropped her arms and moved back slightly. “Mum, this is Emma. Emma, this is my mum, Marley.”
“Hi, Mrs Masters,” I said barely louder than a mouse.
Fucking nerves.
Fucking Bryce.
I hated being nervous and worse, I hated surprises, and now I was stuck with both. He’d pay for this later. He was definitely going to pay.
“Please, Emma, call me Marley. And that hunk of spunk over there manning the barbeque is Bryce’s dad, Noel.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Marley.”
“You too, sweetheart, and I love your pants.”
“Th
anks.”
“Well come on in. Lunch is nearly ready, and Seth will be out in a second.”
“Seth?” I looked up at Bryce, something that was starting to give me a crick in the neck.
Without giving Bryce a chance to answer, Marley handed him the sauce bottles, hooked her arm through mine and led me towards the table overflowing with rolls, salads and something that smelt so good my mouth watered. “Seth is Bryce’s little brother. He’s quite a bit younger than Bryce. Only seventeen and such a good boy. He was very much a surprise to Bryce’s father and I, but he’s a great kid. Idolises Bryce.”
Behind me, I could’ve sworn I heard someone muttering bullshit between coughs. Glancing over my shoulder, the look on Bryce’s face was priceless. To say he was uncomfortable was an understatement. It was his biggest mistake. If seeing me with his mother brought his king-sized ego down a notch or two, then he’d just made this the most fantastic lunch I’d ever have.
When Marley led me towards the overfilled barbeque, seriously who needs lamb chops, sausages, steaks AND chicken kebabs…unless the rest of Bryce’s football team were about to jump the fence and join us, there was way too much food here. “Noel, say hello to Emma. She’s Bryce’s friend.”
“Bryce’s friend, hey?” he asked, swapping hands with the tongs before reaching out to shake mine.
“I don’t know if I’d exactly call us friends.”
“Oooh! I like this girl,” Noel confirmed, pointing his tongs at his son whose face looked like he’d just sucked a lemon.
“How long ‘till that’s ready, Sugar Dumplin’?” Marley asked and I snickered. I couldn’t help it. I’d never heard anyone referred to as Sugar Dumplin’ before.
“They’re disgusting. And they’re always like this,” a deep voice groaned in my ear as I felt the warmth from his breath on my skin.
Spinning around, I was expecting to see Bryce standing there looking a combination of smug and embarrassed. Instead there was a younger version. His hair was longer, his eyes not as piercing and his cheeks speckled with teenage acne, something I was all too familiar with and grateful I’d grown out of.
Played: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Playing Games Book 2) Page 3