Playing the Player (Sydney Smoke Rugby #3)

by Amy Andrews

  “Hey.”

  “You got my note then,” she said, her pulse fluttering madly as she forced herself to be normal, tipping her chin at his empty soup bowl.

  After she’d pulled herself together, she’d dashed off a quick note to let him know the soup was in the microwave and shoved it under the empty bowl next to a basket of bread rolls before fleeing to the shower.

  “Yes. Thank you. The soup was delicious.”

  His gaze locked in on her face, but she couldn’t meet it. He may be fully dressed, but all she could see was him naked, his tats on full display, the water running over his chest and abs and thighs.

  And his hand. On his cock.

  He took a deep breath. “About before—”

  Em held up her hand abruptly, cutting off whatever the hell he was about to say. Talking about it might be the wise, mature, adult thing to do, but it was still too fresh to rehash.

  “How about we don’t talk about it?” she said. “Let’s just forget it happened and get on with things.”

  He blinked, his incredulous gaze searching her face. A tiny frown crinkled his forehead. He looked like a man who’d been practising what he wanted to say and didn’t like being gagged.

  “Trust me, honey, if I live to be a hundred years old, I’m never going to forget that.”

  Em swallowed. She wondered how many sports-related concussions it might take to do the job for her. “I’m sure if you applied yourself—”

  His harsh bark of laughter cut her off, his perfect mouth twisting into a perfect, sexy smile. “Oh my God, you’re going to go all teacher on me now? You realise that’s what got us into this predicament in the first place? Your teacher panties?”

  She snorted. More like your lack of control, dude. But Em couldn’t bring herself to say it, because she was too busy blushing at the image of him whacking off to her underwear—her demi-bra as he’d so accurately deduced—and squirming under his scrutiny. She was so out of her depth here. She’d been more intimate with Linc during the shower incident than she’d been during any act of sex with any of the guys she’d slept with. And that was confusing to someone who’d let sex define the depth of her relationships with men.

  How could that be more intimate than letting someone inside your body?

  “Sorry. Habit.”

  He took three strides, coming to a halt on the other side of the bench, his hands gripping the edge. Another three strides and he could have been gripping her. He was all coiled energy that surged across the space between them and stole her breath. Em had to grind her feet into the parquet floor to stop from taking a step back.

  “Can you honestly tell me that you can forget about it? Just like that?”

  She swallowed. “Sure.” But she crossed her fingers behind her back, just in case.

  It must have been convincing, because the breath slowly hissed out of him as he rocked on his heels. “Fine. I’m just sorry…I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have—”

  Em held up her hand again, shaking her head wildly from side to side. She did not want to hear his confessions or apology. It might have been a bad idea, but it was still the most erotic experience of her life. She needed time to process without any equivocations.

  But he clearly felt like he’d overstepped and needed to make amends.

  “If it helps,” she said, “I decided not to wait until I’m tucked up in bed tonight and indulged in the shower as well.”

  Maybe if he felt a little less…depraved, he’d drop it.

  His eyes widened, his brow furrowed, his knuckles whitened. It didn’t look like it helped. It didn’t look it helped one little bit.

  “Jesus Christ, Em. Of course it doesn’t.”

  There was a distinct lack of appreciation for her candour in his expression. In fact, he looked pained. Not like a man who’d shot a load of come all over her shower floor. He looked tortured and very, very frustrated.

  “Right. Sorry.”

  They didn’t say anything for long moments. Just stared at each other across a bench that was probably only about a metre wide but felt like a yawing chasm.

  “Maybe it’s best if we go now?” she suggested finally, glancing at her watch. City traffic could be unpredictable, and the amount of crazy out on the roads always trebled in the rain. “I’d rather be a bit early.”

  The angle of his jaw clenched and unclenched for a beat before he raised an eyebrow. “Leaving the scene of the crime?”

  Em smiled despite herself. “Hell yeah.”

  He smiled, too, his shoulders visibly lowering. “I’m up for that.” And he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair.

  A good decision, as it turned out. It was just the circuit breaker they needed, and Em slowly relaxed as he flipped on a radio station, so neither of them had to talk or even think, really. Some modern pop station was doing a hit countdown, and she soon got lost humming along to a handful of songs.

  They arrived at the venue with about twenty minutes to spare, and by the time they’d been ushered to their seats, there wasn’t any time for idle chatter.

  Linc looked around him, obviously bemused at the largely female audience. He chuckled low, and she turned to look at him. A small smile touched his mouth. “Something funny?”

  “I don’t go too many places where at least one person doesn’t recognise me.”

  Em laughed, feeling about a million percent less awkward with him now amongst the crowded theatre than she had alone with him in her townhouse.

  “Is your ego suffering withdrawals?”

  His gaze locked with hers, holding and not letting go as his eyebrow kicked up. The noise of the settling audience faded to black around them as his clear green eyes called her to account. A flash of her watching him masturbate in her shower rose unbidden in her mind. Her mouth dry, her lips slack, her blouse open.

  She pushed down into her seat to still the stir of cravings humming to life between her legs. The truth was she’d stroked his ego plenty enough for one night and they both knew it.

  “I think my ego can stand it,” he murmured, his voice deliciously low.

  It would be so easy to get lost in his eyes. To give herself up to them. To fall into them. To forget they belonged to a player. Probably the biggest player that had ever crossed her path.

  Thankfully, the lights dimmed right at that moment, severing the connection, and Em dragged her gaze away, staring blindly at the stage, her pulse tripping madly at her temples.

  Player or not, she’d never wanted to kiss a man as badly as she wanted to kiss Lincoln Quinn right now.

  And that couldn’t be good.

  She was hyperaware of him throughout the show, too. Sure, it held her attention and there were times she laughed so hard she almost—almost—forgot she was sitting next to the sexiest guy in the theatre.

  Almost forgot the show he’d put on for her all wet and naked in her shower.

  But it was impossible to ignore him altogether, attuned as she was to every shift, breath, and laugh. She was aware of his sleeve brushing against hers. And the heat of his thigh so close to hers. And his aftershave—eau du sex god—wafting her way.

  On the other hand, meeting the Nerd Girls after the show was utterly absorbing. She and Linc were two of only a dozen people that had VIP tickets. Considering these four women were Em’s idols, it would have been impossible not to be swept away by the glitter of it all.

  Em realised it didn’t make her cool, but she didn’t care. They treated her like a rock star for being a high school science teacher, and having Linc by her side didn’t hurt. Interestingly, three out of the four Nerd Girls knew who he was, and the fact that he was charming and complimentary and asked them intelligent questions about their material helped.

  How he’d even remembered half that stuff when she’d struggled to keep her train of thought all night was a mystery. Every time he’d shifted in his goddamn chair, she’d lost track of everything else.

  By the time she was tucked up safel
y in his car, Em was glowing. Linc grinned at her, all trace of awkwardness between them dissolved.

  “So that’s what you look like when you’re fangirling,” he teased as he backed out of the car space. “What amazing feat do I have to perform on the field to get you looking at me like that?”

  The fact he didn’t realise she wasn’t interested in that kind of feat said it all really, but she wasn’t ready to kill the buzz. “Oh please. I think they were the ones who were fangirling.”

  All of them had wanted photos with him.

  “Well, they shouldn’t have been. They were awesome. Clearly, I’m going to have to get smarter to earn the kind of adoration you were giving them.”

  Em snorted. “Like you need any more adoration.” He didn’t bother to answer, just gave a cocky grin. She should have found it annoying. Instead, she found it a massive turn-on—especially after the envy that had been directed at her from the clearly smitten Nerd Girls.

  He navigated to the car park exit and waited for a break in the flow of cars before exiting.

  “Thank you,” she said as he merged into traffic. “That was an awesome night. You have no idea how badly my hand cramped that morning the tickets went on sale. I don’t think I’ve ever hit F5 on my laptop so much. I was so bummed to miss out.”

  “For what it’s worth, it was way more interesting than I thought it was going to be.”

  “That have anything to do with how much they were fawning over you?”

  He laughed. “Even before the fawning.”

  They drove in silence for a bit as Linc concentrated on the glut of cars all trying to get away at the same time. For a guy in a penis car, he was a considerate driver. Em tried not to think about her prediction that she’d end up fucking him in his ridiculously sexy car after the show.

  It had been meant as a joke. Sort of. But after years of expressing her gratitude through sex, she wasn’t going to fall back into old habits. Although she couldn’t deny that her hand itched to slide up his thigh and grab hold of that bulge between his legs.

  And it had fuck-all to do with gratitude and everything to do with the image of him in the shower that had been stuck on a loop in her head.

  “You want to go out dancing or something?” he asked, breaking into her lewd thoughts as he finally picked up some speed.

  The “or something” sounded pretty damn good… “Don’t you guys have curfews?” she fobbed, confused as to why she wanted to say yes so damn bad when she’d decided months ago to stay the hell away from him.

  “No. I have training at six in the morning because Griff is a masochist and we need to win the game on Sunday to get a place on the finals board. But I’m not that decrepit yet that I can’t handle a late night and an early start. Hell.” He smiled at her before returning his attention to traffic. “I reckon I could stay up all night for you.”

  “Well, I could do with some help to mark the rest of my term papers,” she said primly, not even daring to let her mind drift to an all-nighter with Linc.

  He chuckled all low and dirty, and it oozed into every nook and cranny of the car. Into all her nooks and crannies, too.

  Em was pretty sure she’d just ovulated.

  They stopped at a traffic light, and he did that thing with his sleeves again. It was a fascinating process, and she couldn’t have looked away even if she’d wanted to. She supposed it was like the equivalent of watching a woman peel stockings off her legs.

  Had someone told him flashing those tats was a sure-fire way into a chick’s pants? Or did he just know?

  She noticed his watch on his left wrist. It was smaller and simpler. No flashy dials or expensive metallic glint. The band was plain, battered-looking brown leather.

  A long way from his TAG.

  Guilt needled her. “You didn’t have to get rid of your watch.”

  He glanced at it, letting go of the steering wheel to touch it as if he still wasn’t used to that particular watch being there.

  “I really don’t care what kind of watch you wear. I was just being…”

  “A pain in the ass?” he suggested, a small smile hovering on full lips.

  Em laughed. “I prefer assertive.”

  “It’s fine,” he said, his hand sliding back onto the wheel as the light turned green. “I prefer this one, actually. It was my grandfather’s. Wore it all his life. He left it to me in his will. I’d forgotten how much I loved it. How much it reminds me of him.”

  She blinked. The wistful note in his voice was a surprise. Why was a cocky young jock wearing a family heirloom and talking about his grandfather more panty-melting than his pretty face? “You were close?”

  He nodded. “I lived with him from age fifteen to seventeen.”

  Hmm. Interesting. “Did…something happen with your parents?”

  Coming from a broken home, Em was sensitive to these kinds of questions. Linc may have been a tough guy, but she knew too well how deep childhood wounds could be.

  He didn’t say anything for the longest time. Like he was grappling with either blowing her off or opening up. Em was about to give him an out when he spoke.

  “My mum left when I was four. My dad was—is still—a long-haul trucker, so when he was on the road, I went with him.”

  Em’s teaching antennae pinged. Linc sounded like he’d had a transient life. That wasn’t good for schooling. Or forming relationships. Or for team sports, when it came to that. “Did you do distance education or something?”

  “Nope. I went to school when I was home. I didn’t when I was in the truck. We’d be home for a couple of weeks then back on the road for a week. The teachers gave me work to do, but…” He flicked her a glance. “Well…I have some mild dyslexia and a penchant for the outdoors, so school was always low on my list of priorities.”

  Em was conscious of a tiny crack opening up deep inside her chest. Linc clearly wasn’t overtly bothered by his disruptive childhood; he certainly hadn’t let it define him. But her heart went out to him anyway.

  A mother who’d walked out when he was four?

  She still felt the wound of her father’s desertion some sixteen years later. It wasn’t acute. It had dulled. But it was still there. The disbelief, the hurt, the anger.

  The sense of abandonment.

  “And what about rugby? How’d you get into that when you were never at school or presumably in any kind of team?”

  “I played whenever I was at school. I was good enough that my absences were tolerated. When I was fifteen, a scout was at a game, and I was identified as having promise and given a place at high school in Sydney that was a feeder school for the rugby clubs.”

  “And so your grandfather suggested you move in with him?”

  “Yes and no. I actually didn’t even know I had a grandfather until then.”

  Chapter Seven

  Em blinked. She inspected his profile, which hadn’t changed despite the cryptic announcement. “What?”

  “He was my mum’s dad, and my father cut us off completely from her family after she left. Told me I didn’t have any grandparents and apparently refused to let my grandfather have anything to do with me. When it became obvious I needed to stay put, though, Dad looked him up. Asked him if I could stay with him.”

  “Oh my God. That must have been a…”

  The car glided to a halt at another red light. “Head fuck?”

  “Yes.”

  He glanced at her. “You could say that.”

  “Were you…angry with him?”

  His brow furrowed. “Who? My grandfather?”

  “At both, I suppose. Your father for not telling you. Your grandfather for not…I don’t know, trying harder?”

  “Oh yeah. I was pretty pissed off with both of them for a while. But my mother abandoning her family, taking off like that, really broke my grandfather, and my father was just doing what he thought was right at the time.” He shrugged. “They were both broken, really. But between them, despite everything, they kept me whole, so
I don’t have too much to complain about.”

  He adjusted the watch band, his finger caressing the glass surface. “I wish I’d known him longer, though. He was a humble guy, and he taught me a lot about being a man in two years. And he came to all my games. He was my biggest fan. He was a clockmaker. The really fancy, hand-carved, expensive ones. His workshop smelled like sawdust and varnish.”

  Em could hear the wistfulness tinged with sadness in his voice, could see it etched on his face as a passing street light flashed across his features. She supposed she should change the subject. Make an effort to be cheery. Talk about how hot he was on the field or flash her boobs at him.

  But for the first time ever, she’d met someone who’d been through something similar to her, and the solidarity she felt with Linc right now took her breath away. Here was a man who understood what it felt like to be left behind. Discarded. Forgotten. Like a bruised apple in a supermarket that nobody wants.

  “Do you know what happened to your mum?” she asked quietly as the green light signalled them to go, and Linc accelerated smoothly.

  There was another long pause, and Em could tell he was debating between flippancy and disclosure. “You know,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never told anyone any of this stuff.”

  Em felt a ridiculous swell of pride and something else…hope…that he’d confided in her. But that didn’t mean she was going to persist, poking her nose into places it didn’t belong. “I’m sorry, forget it. I’m prying. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” He sighed then, deep and heavy. “She took off with some guy in a Kombi van for a while. They travelled all around the country and then she split with him and went with someone else to Asia. She’s still flitting around the world, popping up here and there, mostly solo these days. Last I heard, she was volunteering on some archaeological dig in the wilds of Cambodia. She doesn’t like being tied down apparently.”

  If it had been anyone else but her, Em doubted they’d have picked up on the trace of bitterness in his voice. But she did. She understood how hard it was for him to talk about something so gut-wrenchingly personal. How traces of hurt from long ago bled into everything.