Playing it Cool (Sydney Smoke Rugby)

by Amy Andrews

He huffed out a laugh, but Harper was secretly delighted to see he looked as mystified by what had just happened as she was. “Yeah.”

  “Intense,” she offered.

  He shoved a hand through his hair, his gaze locking with hers. “Definitely.”

  A beat or two passed before his phone chimed again. He rolled his eyes, tucking himself back into his shorts as he reached behind for his mobile.

  “Apparently we’re making an extra stop-off at the hospital radio station,” he said, reading the text. “And my absence has been noted.”

  Harper’s head was still spinning, her legs still unsteady as she acknowledged his summons. “You’d better go then.”

  He grimaced as he glanced at her, but it died as his gaze lit on her still gaping overalls and her bared breasts, the pulled-aside cups giving them the kind of support usually only found at the end of a surgeon’s knife.

  “Yeah…but I don’t want to,” Dex muttered.

  She was grateful for the support of the wall behind her as his heated gaze turned her legs back to jelly. He was staring at her like he wanted seconds.

  Possibly with some chocolate topping.

  He took a step toward her, but Harper threw her hand—the clean one—up to halt the movement. It landed on his chest, the muscle big and meaty beneath her palm. It took all her willpower not to curl her fingers into it.

  “No,” she said, her voice still raspy. “Duty calls.”

  For both of them. She was at work for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t uncommon for people to drop in to check on her progress, or even just to chat.

  His frustrated gaze roamed over her face then back to her breasts again. It might as well have been his tongue for the way her nipples preened and burgeoned beneath his scrutiny. She felt the subtle tensing of his pec and locked her wrist, ready to repel him should he pounce.

  Although, God knew, her nipples would probably win the argument between duty and lust if he really decided to push the boundary.

  His phone chimed again and he growled—actually growled—low in the back of his throat. “Fine,” he huffed, the taut muscle relaxing beneath her palm before he reached over, yanked her zip up and took a step back.

  He looked down at himself again. His jersey had escaped most of the load he’d shot only a minute ago, but some repair was clearly needed. He took a step toward the basin and looked at himself in the half mirror.

  “How am I going to explain that?”

  “Maybe not the truth,” Harper smiled.

  He laughed. “Are you kidding? I just came in about ten seconds flat. I don’t think I’ll be bragging about that one.”

  “Best damn ten seconds of my life,” she said. He glanced sidelong at her in the mirror and smiled. “Here.” She pulled a wad of paper towels out of the dispenser, flicking on the tap to wet them slightly before handing them over. He dabbed at the stains as she washed her hands and tended to her own mess, not that they could be really detected amidst all the caked on paint.

  “I think I just made it worse,” Dex grimaced, inspecting the results in the mirror.

  “Sorry,” Harper said, chewing on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Next time, I’ll get down on my knees.”

  He glanced up sharply with a swift intake of breath. His gaze dropped to her mouth with such intensity she was left in no doubt he was thinking about her lips moving up and down his dick. “Christ,” he said, shaking his head at the grin she couldn’t suppress. “Are you trying to make me come again?”

  Harper laughed this time. “Sorry. Just a little something for your spank bank.”

  “Already there,” he said, the admission causing a tight, hot tingle low in her belly. He dragged his attention from her mouth back to the mirror, making a dissatisfied noise at the back of his throat.

  “Here, try this,” Harper said, filling her cupped hand with the running tap water and splashing it at the affected area.

  He jumped back as the water soaked in, gaping at her then at his jersey then back at her. “How does that make it better?”

  “Just say you were washing your hands like a good boy and the tap sprayed up at you. They’re pretty notorious for that.”

  He shook his head as he looked in the mirror again. “They’re never going to believe me.”

  “Fine,” she murmured, amused at his despair as she pulled off more paper towels for him to clean up the excess water. “Tell them Chuck Nugent’s stepsister jerked you off in a bathroom while they were visiting sick and injured kiddies and playing nice for the cameras.”

  He grabbed the hand towel and mopped at the wet patch. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he growled.

  “Oh, I see,” she teased. “You just want to keep me as your dirty little secret.”

  Dex threw the paper towel in the bin before flicking the tap off with a quick swat. He grabbed her by the baggy front of her overalls and hauled her close. “Fucking A,” he growled, his mouth landing on hers in a brief, punishing kiss.

  Harper was useless against the onslaught, grasping his biceps and moaning her capitulation, almost falling backward when he released her just as abruptly. “Will you be watching the game tomorrow?”

  She nodded. It was about all she was capable of currently. “Yes.”

  His gaze locked with hers. “What will you be wearing?”

  Harper’s breath hitched, and she was unable to look away from the fever she saw in his eyes. “What do you want me to wear?”

  He glanced down at the zipper. “Nothing.”

  Her belly tightened. “Okay.”

  “I want you stretched out on your couch, naked in front of the television.”

  “Okay.”

  “I want you to slide your dildo in and keep it there for the entire game, and every time we score a try I want you to come.”

  Harper was pretty damn sure she was about to come right now. She’d never been given homework by a guy before—erotic or otherwise—and she was so turned on she could barely see straight. She supposed she should be shocked. She’d known him for such a short time, and they were in a supposedly fake platonic relationship.

  She should tell him to go to hell. But screw that.

  “Okay.”

  “I want to know that while I’m sweating my ass off on that field that you’re at home getting your ass off. Will you do that for me, Harper?”

  She swallowed. “Okay.”

  Long moments passed as they stared at each other. Her heart tripped manically in her chest and at all her pulse points. Her breath came in rough pants. Harper wondered if the heat and hunger she could see in Dex’s eyes was his, or merely a reflection of her own arousal.

  He nodded, satisfied. “Good. See you Sunday.”

  Then he stepped around her and walked out the door, leaving Harper entirely unfit to paint anything.

  Chapter Five

  Harper was killing anything that crossed her path.

  Nothing better for an attack of the nerves than jumping on the PlayStation and kicking some Battlefront ass while she waited for Dex to pick her up.

  She’d been a gamer since her teens—much to Anthea’s displeasure—and if it wasn’t for the twins and Em making demands on her time, she’d probably be one of those sad basement-dwellers wearing stained trackies, surrounded by take-away cartons and floor to ceiling bottled water in case the zombie apocalypse actually happened while she was questing with online friends in World of Warcraft.

  Right now, it felt good to be blowing shit up. Gave her something else to think about.

  The Sydney Smoke had lost their game last night but had still managed to score four tries. Which meant she was going to have to look Dex in the eye when he got here, knowing he knew exactly what she’d been doing during those eighty minutes.

  On Friday, and even last night in the midst of it all, it had been thrilling to perform such an illicit act in the privacy of her own apartment. Naughty. And…liberating. But having to face Dex knowing that he knew what she’d done? That was an entirel
y different matter.

  There was a rap on the door. Her suddenly nerveless fingers paused the game before the controller clattered onto the coffee table.

  Dex. Five o’clock. On the dot. Heat flooded Harper’s face. God. What was she doing with him? What was he doing with her?

  A second knock yanked her out of her inertia. She rose off the couch automatically, her legs moving mechanically to the door. Thoughts twirled round and round in her brain like a spinning top.

  Be cool. You’re an adult. You’re both adults. You’re single. He’s single. You’re allowed to play games. Sexual games. You haven’t done anything wrong.

  “Hey,” he said, as she swung the door open, one big hand sliding up high on the doorframe, his gaze speculative as he looked her up and down in a way that left her in no doubt as to what he was thinking.

  “Hey,” she said back, a little breathless from the dirty in his smile.

  She had the crazy urge to lean forward and kiss him on the cheek. As a…greeting. After all, she had gotten naked and masturbated last night—four times—because he’d asked her to. But something stopped her. Kissing him on the cheek? That seemed a little too…familiar.

  She didn’t know if they had that kind of relationship.

  She settled for checking him out instead. Like her, he was in jeans and a T-shirt—perfect attire for the drive-in movie they were seeing. His shirt was light gray, his jeans a soft, distressed blue that appeared to be more from age than any kind of design intent. His smile was smooth, his stubble was rough, and he smelled like he’d been dipped in cinnamon sugar.

  Her own personal churro.

  Even the slight puffiness of his left eye where he’d copped an elbow last night added to his sex appeal.

  He wore the hell out of all of it.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked, nodding at the injury.

  He shook his head as he pressed gently around the orbit. “Nah. Had worse.”

  She’d seen enough images of him online with blood pouring out of his head to believe him. “I’ll just go grab my bag.”

  He nodded, and Harper was conscious he’d followed her into the apartment. Conscious of his gaze burning a hole in the rump of her jeans. She wished she’d worn the longer shirt now. Showing off the ass he’d already confessed to liking had seemed like a good idea a couple of hours ago but now that he was two paces behind her, not so much.

  Harper was snatching up her bag off the lounge when he said, “Now that’s what I call a television.”

  “Oh…yes.” She’d bought the unit specifically with her gaming habit in mind. She also had large dual computer screens for her online gaming.

  The game she’d been playing was still frozen on the screen, and she strode toward it to turn it off.

  “That must be what? Seventy inches?”

  “Eighty.”

  He stuck his hands on his hips and glanced at her. “You sure know how to intimidate a man.”

  Harper snorted. She knew for a fact that Dexter Blake had no reason to be intimidated.

  “You game?” he asked as she picked up the controller.

  “Yep.”

  He grinned at her. “Harper Nugent, you just get more and more awesome.”

  It was hardly romantic or flowery, but Harper buzzed all over from the compliment, her rib cage suddenly too small to contain the surge of pride rising in her chest. She grinned back, recognising the zeal of a fellow gamer in Dex’s eyes. “You play, too?”

  “I’m a more recent convert, although it’s been a while.”

  “Battlefront?” she asked, cocking her head toward the screen.

  “Hell yeah.” He glanced at his watch, the fingers of the other hand drumming against his thigh. “We still have an hour before we absolutely have to leave. Fancy a game?”

  Considering he’d had the upper hand in the games they’d already played, Harper was more than keen to partake of one where she felt in control. “Sure,” she said casually.

  “You any good?”

  Harper gave her very best nonchalant shrug as she crossed to the long, low television cabinet and dragged out another cordless controller. “I do okay.”

  He narrowed his eyes as she passed it to him. “You’re going to kick my ass, aren’t you?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing as she walked to the couch and sat. “I can be gentle with you if you like.”

  “I would like,” he said, sitting down beside her. The couch was a long three-seater, deep, with generous cushions. She’d sat just off-centre of the middle, and Dex had done the same, about a foot separating them.

  “Of course, you are injured after all,” she murmured, leaning forward at the hips as she snatched her controller off the coffee table and navigated to a new map. “You want to play as a team, or you want me to kick your ass first?”

  He laughed. “Bring it.”

  “All right then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Harper grinned. “Prepare to be annihilated.” Her fingers moved quickly on the controller as she set things up. She glanced across at him. “You ready?”

  Dex stretched out his traps. “I was born ready, baby.”

  Harper pressed play, and they were off, sitting forward, shoulders hunched, brows furrowed. Dex did a cute thing where he stuck his tongue out whenever he was about to shoot. It made it easier for Harper to pre-empt, but still it took her twenty minutes to get him just where she wanted him. If this was him rusty, then he must have been damn good at one stage.

  She was closing in on him, going in for the fatal blow when he said, “Is this where you did the deed last night?”

  Harper startled at the unexpected question and misfired. His guy blasted a bunch of hers. She paused the game, and he grinned as she looked at him.

  “Are you doing this on purpose, to try and put me off my game?”

  “Damn straight,” he said, completely unabashed, looking boyish suddenly. “Is it working?”

  It most certainly was. Her concentration was shot now she’d been brought out of the virtual world to face the real world and the real man sitting beside her.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” he insisted, harking back to his original question.

  It would have been handy to be able to muster a glare, but the fact that it was, in fact, the place where she had done the deed, put Harper on the back foot.

  “I have a blush that tells me it was.” He looked up and down the length of the couch then back at her, his gaze lowering to her mouth. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have made it more than four for you but we were robbed with a couple of those penalties.”

  Harper was relieved the Smoke had only run the ball over that many times. She wasn’t sure she’d been hydrated enough for a fifth orgasm.

  “So…how was it?”

  There was no way she was telling him last night had been the single most risqué thing she’d ever done. Or the thrill of it alone had kept her excitement at fever pitch between tries.

  He’d held the upper hand in this conversation far too long.

  Recovering her composure, Harper injected some steel into her spine. She leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “You want a…blow by blow?”

  His big smile oozed sex and confidence. “Hell yeah.”

  “I videoed it if you want to watch?”

  His sudden stillness, and the bob of his throat as he sat even more forward, were gratifying. “You…did?”

  Harper dropped her head to the side and shot him a gotcha smile before pressing start and blasting his last man to smithereens while he was still staring at her. “Oops.” She turned to him and batted her eyelids as Game Over flashed on the screen. “Sorry.”

  He laughed then. Big and deep. “You like to play dirty.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I’m learning to play by your rules.”

  He grinned. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”

  Harper rolled her eyes at his obvious enjoyment. “Another?”

  “Sure. But let’s play as a
team this time. At least until I’m not so rusty anymore. Then I’ll kick your ass, paint girl.”

  “Ha!” Harper said, setting up another game. “Dream on, rugby.”

  They didn’t go to the drive-in. The time came to leave and they were in the middle of a battle against enemy insurgents, and they decided to just keep playing. Harper grabbed two beers and some corn chips and salsa, and they worked their way through dozens of levels together.

  Dinnertime came and they ordered pizza. They devoured two between them and drank more beer. Harper couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun.

  With her clothes on anyway.

  It was ten before they were triumphant in their third map together.

  “Another?” Harper asked.

  He was lounging back on the couch, his legs wide apart in that potently casual way of men. His T-shirt fell flat against the planes of his belly, and his jeans clung like a second skin, stretched out over thick quads and cupping the bulge of what she knew to be a decent size package at the juncture of his thighs. Every line and angle of his body reflected a man relaxed and content, like a big jungle cat, stretched out all loose-limbed, his stomach full.

  Except his eyes. There was nothing content about those. They were much more alert. Much more…carnal. Up until now, the only thing that had charged the atmosphere had been a keen sense of competition. But it had been companionable.

  Matey. Blokey, even.

  But those eyes made her wary. And just a little bit horny.

  “Sure,” he said, still casual. “Want to make it interesting?”

  “Ah, you want to battle me, huh? Feeling confident again?”

  He grinned. “I think I have my mojo back.”

  As if he’d ever lost it. “All right then,” she said, leaning forward, elbows on her knees as she set up a battle between the two of them.

  “Can I suggest a variation?”

  Harper looked over her shoulder at him. “A variation?”

  He nodded, his eyes glittering now. “Strip Battlefront is kinda fun.”

  Her breath stuttered to a halt somewhere between her lungs and her mouth. “Strip Battlefront?”

  “Sure.” He grinned. “The guys and I play it all the time.”