Playing the Player (Sydney Smoke Rugby #3)

by Amy Andrews

  “Well, hello there,” she murmured, easing back into him, a smile in her voice.

  “Mmm,” he said, his gaze following the flow of the water over her breasts and farther south over her belly and down her thighs. Water droplets clung to the tips of her nipples. He slid his hands onto her breasts. “Nice view.”

  She arched her back. “I thought you were supposed to be cleaning up.”

  Linc grinned at the teacher in her voice despite its husky timbre. “Shortly. There’s still time.”

  He slipped his hands to her hips, turning her in his arms. She came to him eagerly, on her tiptoes, her hands sliding around his neck as their bodies aligned, hers slick from the shower, her mouth meeting his, hungry and moaning.

  Although that could have been from the cold tiles hitting her back as he eased her against the wall.

  “Besides,” he said, coming up for air several long, drugging minutes later. “I forgot something.”

  “Oh yeah?” Her tawny gaze was slightly unfocused, her nipples hard against his chest.

  “I forgot to kiss you.”

  She smiled, a water droplet clinging to the end of her eyelashes. “What the hell do you call what we were just doing?”

  “I didn’t mean there,” he murmured, then dropped to his knees, his hands sliding to the tops of her thighs.

  It was gratifying to see the bob of her throat. “Oh.”

  “Yes.” He nuzzled the crease of her groin. “Oh.”

  She shoved a hand onto his head. For the first time in a long time, he wished his hair were longer so she could really twist her fingers into it when she came.

  “You’re going to have no energy for training today,” she said, her voice husky.

  “Are you kidding?” He grinned. “I’ve never been more pumped in my life. I’m going to be fucking formidable.”

  He leaned forward then, parting her thighs with his hands and putting his mouth to her.

  “Fuuuuck,” she swore somewhere above him, hardening his dick as if she’d hit it with a cattle prod loaded with Viagra.

  Her thighs tensed and the knuckles of her right hand went white against the tiles as he lapped her up, revelling in the taste and texture of her and her clean, salty smell. The tiny pants and gasps falling from her mouth and the fingerprints of her left hand she was surely going to leave imprinted on his skull encouraged him to keep going.

  He got off on all of it, his heart pumping blood around his body, heat and desire surging everywhere.

  Suddenly, a door banged and an echo-y voice said, “Bloody hell.” Linc froze. So did Em. “What the fuck happened in here?”

  Tanner. Jesus.

  Chapter Eleven

  Linc sat back on his heels, trying to clear his brain of the sexual fog. “What the hell?” Em mouthed at him, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

  “Looks like an orgy to me.”

  Ryder. Shit.

  Linc looked at his watch, peering at the face through the droplets of water. It still said four thirty.

  Fuck. He loved his grandfather, but he could really have done with the reliability of his kinetic, up-to-date, all-the-bells-and-whistles TAG about now. “My watch must have stopped,” he whispered.

  “My orgasm did stop,” she hissed, low but clearly frustrated.

  He would have laughed at her thwarted crankiness had there not been a potential audience. He stood, flicked off the tap, and kissed her mouth hard and brief. “Rain check,” he whispered. “Get dressed. I’ll get rid of them.”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer, just padded out of the shower, scooping up a towel on his way out. He had no idea what the time was, but it was clear he needed to hustle Em out and get ready for training, pronto. He secured the towel around his waist and braced himself to face the music.

  There were four of them looking at him when he strode out. Tanner, Ryder, Bodie and Donovan. None of them said anything for a beat or two.

  “Missing something?” Ryder asked, one thumb hooked in his big silver buckle, the other hooked in the strap of Em’s leopard print bra, a smug smile on his country boy face. “Didn’t realise you’d taken up cross-dressing, man?”

  “I think this would be especially flattering on your ass,” Donovan added, brandishing the matching thong, his grin as shit-eating as Ryder’s.

  “Everything’s flattering on my ass,” Linc snapped, snatching the garments off his friends.

  Nobody but him got to touch Em’s lingerie. Nobody.

  “Jesus, Linc. Here?” Tanner held up an empty foil packet. “Griff will have your ass if he found out.”

  “You did it, didn’t you, you sonofabitch?” Bodie crowed, lifting his hand for a high five. “The Wonder Cock won the goddamn bet. You and Em did the dance with no pants. I had no doubt, dude, no doubt.”

  Linc glared at Bodie. “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. “This wasn’t about the bet.”

  Somewhere along the way, the bet had become obsolete. Being with Em had been about the challenge. And getting laid, but now… There was an attraction that ran deeper than getting her into his bed. Than scoring.

  He actually liked her.

  For the first time in his life, Linc didn’t give a damn if he won a bet or not. It had barely entered his realm of consciousness last night, and had been the absolute last thing on his mind when he dropped to his knees in the shower.

  And if Em had overheard this conversation then he was going to drop Bodie to his knees in a way that would be a hell of a lot less pleasurable for both of them.

  …

  Em’s heart thundered in her ears as she stood, towel wrapped firmly around her body and secured under her arms. She was at the end of the wall dividing the wet area from the rest of the locker room, and she heard the guys very clearly. All she had to do was step out and turn around, and she’d be part of the conversation.

  The ends of her curls dripped onto her bare shoulders as the truth sunk in. Linc had made some bet with his teammates. About her. About fucking her.

  Doing the dance with no pants.

  How very male team sport of him.

  A surge of feminist outrage poured through her system. How dare he do something so…Neanderthal. But the rage burned out as quickly as it had flared. If there was one thing she’d learned about him over the last week, and tonight, it was that Linc wasn’t that guy.

  That he wasn’t a callous jerk.

  God knew he’d had plenty of opportunity to try his luck. He could have had her on her doorstep that night of the wedding and she’d have been a willing participant. He could have pulled his shorts down and asked her to suck his dick in the bleachers and she totally would have. He could have walked out of her shower and done her in the hallway.

  But he hadn’t.

  She generally wore rose-coloured glasses when it came to men, but she hadn’t with Linc. Not at all. She’d always seen him for what he was. A player. And tonight she’d learned the reasons behind that. Had seen beyond the facade and the bravado that was Linc to the real person underneath. She’d seen that he hid the bruises from a bumpy childhood behind a keep-’em-laughing mask.

  He’d opened up to her, shown her his hurts and his scars, and the beliefs that had sprung from them.

  Not to mention how he’d bent over backward to accommodate her and her half-assed provisos about dating this past week. He’d taken her to the Nerd Chicks, for crying out loud, stepped in and bailed her school out at short notice, and sent her the opposite of dick pics. His elbow. His big toe.

  Maybe that had all been a strategy to get her out of her clothes, maybe telling her he’d never told anyone about his mother had been a pretty line as well. But hell, last night, when push came to shove, he’d actually tried to stop them fucking, to specifically seek and question her consent, to remind her this wasn’t what she’d wanted.

  Not something that a guy hell-bent on winning a bet would have done.

  Not a callous jerk.

  Last night, she’d told herself it was j
ust going to be a one-off with Linc, just one crazy time in his arms, because he couldn’t give her what she needed. But the glaring truth this morning, despite what she’d overheard and because of what she actually knew from his actions, was that she liked Linc.

  Really liked him.

  Hell, maybe she was even a little bit in love with him. Which was all kinds of crazy, given what he’d told her last night. Setting her sights on another guy who couldn’t give her what she craved. But this felt different. It wasn’t just about what he could give her for a change. A hole he could fill in her life, like all the guys before him.

  It was what she could give him. How she could fill his holes. How they could fill each other.

  Sure, he had hang-ups and commitment issues, but so did she, and four months without a man warming her bed had given her some perspective.

  Who knew chastity could be so damn clarifying?

  Guys had always come easy to Em. Maybe it was time to choose one who wouldn’t. Who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear and then walk away. Who wouldn’t toy with her affections for his own end. Who wouldn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t.

  “So what are you saying?” one of the voices demanded as Em tuned back in. “You’re going back for extra time?”

  There was laughter. “Stop the clocks.” Someone else’s voice. “Lincoln Quinn wants a relationship?”

  Em’s breath hitched and she held it, her heart thrumming in her chest, her lungs burning as she waited for Linc’s response.

  Did he?

  “Maybe.”

  Her breath left her in a hot rush, her gut twisting. Maybe? It might have been a start, a chink, but it was so… insipid. And she was tired of being a guy’s maybe girl. She’d been that for too long.

  She sprang into action, ignoring the traitorous visceral reaction of her body at the prospect of being at the centre of Linc’s extra time. Ignoring the remnants of the old Em who’d been conditioned to respond to any relationship possibilities.

  She’d always let guys set the agenda in the past, hoped they’d move from a maybe, a let’s-wait-and-see, to a definitely. The time for passively sitting by and waiting for a guy to maybe want something serious with her was over.

  It was time she took charge of her destiny.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, rounding the corner, curls bouncing as she steamed toward the huddle of man flesh standing near the end of the lockers, almost exactly where she and Linc had nearly done a vertical version of the dance with no pants.

  They all turned with varying looks of surprise at her towel-clad form. Linc’s eyes practically bulged out of his head. “Em.”

  “Gentlemen.” Em nodded, raising her chin like she wasn’t naked under her towel and hadn’t been the one in here with Linc last night, practically destroying the locker room in the process.

  The guy with the belt buckle that Em remembered from the wedding as Ryder was the first to break out of his inertia with a slow, country-boy grin. “Well, happy birthday to me,” he drawled, taking his time to appreciate her.

  Em blinked, surprised at the announcement. “It’s your birthday?”

  “No,” came the resounding simultaneous reply from the other guys.

  He shrugged, unabashed, and Em couldn’t help but smile. “Any day a woman in nothing but a towel is wandering around inside our locker room is as good as a birthday.”

  “Eyes up, Ryder,” Linc growled.

  “I second that,” another guy said—Bodie?—his smile equally as interested. The third guy that Dex had introduced her to as Dono at the wedding was very politely not checking her out.

  “I said eyes up, douchebags.” Linc snatched a towel off the stack that had fallen on the floor and threw it around her shoulders, flapping it over her front until she was covered to the neck.

  “So you’re not giving our boy extra time, huh?” Ryder continued smiling at her encouragingly.

  “Nope.” She shook her head. If the last two weeks had taught her anything about Lincoln Quinn—the man loved a challenge. He was a competitive guy, and if she wanted to turn that maybe into a definitely, she was going to have to appeal to that side of his nature.

  She was going to have to challenge him.

  Goading him in front of his friends wouldn’t hurt, either. No doubt that was how that dumb bet came about.

  “Been there done that,” she said in her most dismissive voice. “Not a keeper.”

  “What?” Linc’s eyes bugged at her, clearly startled by her announcement.

  “Aww,” Dono said, glancing at Linc. “She’s benching you, man.”

  “Why the hell not?” Linc demanded, glaring at her.

  It was said with an air of such injury and disbelief, Em had to keep her own smile locked down as she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Because I only consider giving extra time to a guy if he can make me come five times in a night, and you, Wonder Cock, only got to three.”

  Hell, she might as well aim high, right?

  There was a beat of stunned silence from all the guys before they reacted. Dono laughed. Bodie and Ryder clapped and cheered. Tanner apologised for Linc’s lack of stamina.

  “To be fair,” Linc said, jaw clenched tight, pointedly ignoring the peanut gallery, “I was working on number four when these dipshits interrupted.”

  Ryder clapped him on the back. “Woulda, coulda, shoulda, man. Of course”—he smiled beguilingly at Em—“they do call me five-a-night back home.”

  Em clamped down on another smile as Linc, his limits thoroughly tested, snapped. “All right, out. All of you.”

  He pointed to the door, air shunting in and out of his nostrils like a raging bull.

  None of his teammates seemed particularly inclined to move. Ryder looked like he was about to take a seat and order popcorn.

  “Is it too much to ask for some goddamn privacy around here?” Linc demanded.

  Apparently. Four stupid, unwavering smiles stared back at him. None of them were going anywhere.

  “They can stay.” She shrugged. “They can be witnesses.”

  “Witnesses?” A slight crack in Linc’s voice betrayed his exasperation. “To what?”

  “To your boyfriend contract, dickhead,” Dono said.

  Em bit down on the inside of her cheek at Linc’s what-the-fuck expression. Poor love looked utterly confused. She supposed it was fair enough to expect after a night of mind-blowing sex that he’d get to bask in it for a bit. Instead he’d found himself in the football equivalent of the UN.

  With her underwear scrunched in his hands.

  Bodie grinned and nodded. “Sure, we’ll be your witnesses, honey. We know all about contracts and how to get the best deal for yourself.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Linc glared at him. “What happened to brotherhood?”

  “Dude.” Bodie glanced at the contraband in Linc’s hands. “Leopard print panties.”

  “Fine,” Linc huffed, folding his arms across his chest as he cocked an eyebrow at Em. “Anything else you need? Flowers, chocolates, French perfume?”

  “Bugger French perfume,” Dono snorted. “Make him take you on a trip to Paris.”

  Em tried to act cool as her insides were washed in a hot surge of adrenaline. She had to play her cards right here. She didn’t want Linc for his money or any of those tangibles. She wanted a relationship with him. She wanted him to want one with her—definitely.

  No maybes.

  But she was going to have to go slow. Take baby steps. She’d be a fool to revert to type and rush things with Linc. That hadn’t worked in the past for her and it certainly wouldn’t with him. He had a lot of years of conditioning and cynicism built up and she wasn’t that girl anymore. She needed to relax and trust in this gut feeling she had about him.

  Trust in Linc. And his competitive spirit.

  “I want a guy who can give me a gift that means something.”

  Linc’s brows knotted. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Em rais
ed a shoulder. She didn’t really have a clue about the specifics, but she wanted it to come from the heart, and if he took a while figuring it out then that was just fine. “I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

  “Atta girl, keep him guessing.” Bodie smiled, ignoring the scowl directed at him.

  “What else?” Linc demanded.

  “I want a guy who can—” She paused and glanced at his teammates, all grinning, clearly enjoying Linc’s discomfort. “How many guys have you seen Linc take down in one move?”

  “Four,” Bodie said with absolutely no hesitation. “Last year. Knocked ’em down like skittles.”

  She returned her attention to Linc, her gaze locking with his. “I want someone who can take down five guys without blinking but can still give me a massage without expecting some kind of sexual payback and won’t have a testosterone crisis if I ask him to go buy tampons for me.”

  The grins slipped a little. Em supposed there wasn’t a whole of talk about tampons in this room. The angle of Linc’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t break eye contact. “What else?”

  “I want a guy who knows more about the cut of a gemstone than the cut of lingerie. Who knows the difference between a princess cut and a marquis cut.”

  “Ooh, that’s a good one,” Tanner nodded.

  “What else?” Linc continued, ignoring his captain.

  “I want a guy who wants to go out in public with me on many dates, not just one flashy one guaranteed to get him locker room sex before reverting to a series of booty calls.”

  She was done with putting out for men who only wanted one thing.

  “I didn’t bring you here to have sex with you,” he said, tone full of affront.

  “And yet you did.”

  Dono nodded. “She’s got you there, man.”

  Linc scowled at him before glancing at her. “What else?”

  Em could tell Linc was at the end of his rope. It was time to back down. “Isn’t that enough?”

  Like last time, she’d given him a list of stuff she’d been pulling out of her ass. This time at least there was a focus. On spending more time together, quality time, on getting to know each other, on building a relationship. And she wanted it so damn bad her breath jammed in her throat and her heart pounded against her ribs.