by Amy Andrews
“Nah, love,” Ryder interrupted, “you should totally ask him for the keys to his car. It’s one sweet ride.”
Suddenly unsure of herself, Em wobbled a smile at Ryder. It felt like the start of something beautiful if Linc wanted to meet her halfway. “I think it’s enough to be going on with.”
Linc didn’t look like he was about to drop to his knees and give her whatever she wanted. In fact, he looked like he was struggling to take it all in, and she’d already pushed too much. She couldn’t bear for him to turn away from her now.
She knew to quit while she was ahead.
A couple more guys she didn’t know entered the locker room and came to an abrupt halt when they saw her. Time to get the hell out of Dodge.
She nodded at him coolly, going for nonchalant even though she was quaking on the inside at her audacity and what she had riding on it. “Why don’t you give it some thought and get back to me?” She dragged her gaze off Linc and smiled at the guys around her. “Do you think I could have the room for a couple of minutes? I’ll be super quick.”
It took a second or two for her request to register. “Of course,” Tanner said. “Let’s go, everyone. Outside.”
It was a testament to his authority that nobody questioned him. Linc was the only one who didn’t move. “Em…I…”
“You, too,” she said politely, smiling at him patiently like she would a student that was having trouble following directions.
“Come on, dude.” Tanner slung his arm around Linc’s neck. “Give her some privacy.”
Em waited ’til they’d left to expel a breath. Bloody hell. She didn’t know she had that in her.
Quickly, she crossed to where her dress lay discarded on the floor. She threw it over her head with trembling hands, pulling it and the towel down in one easy movement, excruciatingly aware as the cool fabric caressed her skin that her underwear had walked out the door with Linc.
She strode to where her stilettos had been discarded and slipped her foot into first one, then the other, kicking up her height by a good four inches. Excellent. She was going to need that extra height when she sauntered, head held high, past a bunch of rugby players as if walking out of a locker room at six in the morning completely commando was no biggie.
Because her pride refused to ask Linc for anything more. Including her underwear.
Chapter Twelve
Em had a shower and went straight to bed after the Uber dropped her off at home. She was too tired to ponder the status—or lack thereof—of her relationship with Linc.
Three and a half orgasms and very little sleep would do that.
She hoped she’d challenged him enough to come back for more, but it was out of her hands now.
When she woke a solid ten hours later, it was to a dozen missed calls and about two dozen texts. All from Harper. She’d switched her phone to silent so she wouldn’t be interrupted, but she should have known Harper would be on to her after Em had run into Dex on the way out this morning—a particularly mortifying experience for both of them.
It obviously hadn’t taken Dex long to spill. The first text was at quarter to eight.
Dex sprung you doing the walk of shame out of Henley this morning. Spill, girlfriend!
As the day wore on and Harper’s texts had gone unanswered, they’d gotten more frequent.
Please tell me you were not giving Lincoln Quinn a biology lesson. In the locker room.
Em smiled. Ooops. Guilty as charged. Not that the man had needed any lessons. He was very self-directed.
You know there’s like a billion boy germs in there, right? Not to mention all kinds of bodily fluids. Em laughed at that one. Did Harper think she was going to catch a communicable disease from leaning against one of the lockers?
The tone of her texts changed as the day wore on, becoming increasingly worried about Em’s peace of mind.
If you’re sticking pins in a Lincoln Quinn voodoo doll, ring me. I’m your gal. I’ll bring the peach schnapps.
And so they went on. And on. She was just about to ring Harper and assure her she wasn’t torturing effigies of Linc when there was a knock on her front door.
“Em?” Harper. “I know you’re in there, Clementine Mildred Clarence Newman.”
Harper belted the door loudly this time. Em laughed out loud at the deliberate provocation of her full name, kicking off her sheets and stretching briefly as more belting ensued. “Em, please? I have peach schnapps. And I meant what I said about the voodoo dolls. I even brought pins.”
Now that was a true friend. Someone who brought booze and pins to a pity party.
“Yeah, yeah,” Em called out as the racket continued, and she started to worry the door might not make it through the experience. “I’m coming!”
Harper had always been her first port of call in times of man troubles, but she was married now, starting her own life, and Em had changed in the last four months. She could deal with this by herself—her days of peach schnapps, voodoo dolls, and crying in bed all day were done. But there was no one like her bestie to put things into perspective.
The noise was louder the closer she got to the door, and Em practically ran the last few metres to snatch the offending item open. “Are you trying to break the bloody thing down?” she said, grinning at Harper, whose mouth had dropped into a surprised O.
She squinted, her teeth digging into her bottom lip at the sight of Em’s pajamas at five in the afternoon before inspecting Em’s face in minute detail. She expelled a loud breath as she grabbed her and pulled her into a big hug. “God. You’re okay.”
“Yes.” Em half laughed half choked as Harper squeezed her tight. “I’ve just been asleep all day.”
“That’s what you get for screwing in locker rooms all night, you dirty minx.” She pulled back from the hug a little but still held on. “I was so worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” Em assured, ushering her bestie in the house. “This is the new me. I’m fine.” She was. If Linc decided she wasn’t worth the hassle then it’d suck—something she didn’t want to think about—but she would get through it.
She was almost one hundred percent sure.
“Really?” There was more inspecting of Em’s face with a furrowed brow.
“Really.”
“Well, okay then.” Harper nodded, satisfied. “But now I need details, goddamn it. And do not miss any of the juicy bits.” She held up the bottle of peach schnapps and strode to the kitchen cupboard where she knew the shot glasses were kept.
“No,” Em said, taking the bottle away from her before Harper had a chance to crack the lid. “Peach schnapps is a breakup drink, and I think this may be the start of something.” She put the schnapps on the bench. “Take it home. Let’s have a bottle of wine instead.”
“You’re the boss.” The shot glasses clinked as Harper returned them and reached for the wineglasses instead.
“So…you think it’s the start of something?” Harper said sitting on one side of the kitchen bench, twirling the stem of her empty glass as Em grabbed the bottle of wine out of the fridge.
The tentativeness in Harper’s voice was ill-disguised. “I do.”
“Ooo-kay.”
Em reached across the bench with the wine and poured a generous slug into Harper’s glass before doing the same to hers. “Did he say it was?” she asked casually.
Em shook her head as she sat on a stool on the opposite side of the bench. “He told me he doesn’t believe in love or marriage.”
Harper’s teeth worried her bottom lip again. “Rrr-ight.”
“But he didn’t like it when I told the guys he isn’t boyfriend material, either. He got all manly huffy, which was very cute.” Em smiled at the memory. It was that moment that had given her hope.
That piqued Harper’s interest, her eyebrows winging in unison. “Really?”
“Yes. Really. But I’m going to take it slow this time, Harper. I promise. I’m not going to get ahead of myself.”
“A
ww. I’m so proud of you.” Harper slid her hand across the kitchen bench and intertwined her fingers with Em’s, giving them a squeeze. “My little girl is all grown up.”
They clinked glasses, then their hands separated as they sat back on their stools and sipped. “Now tell me,” Harper said, sliding an elbow onto the bench and propping her chin on her palm, “does he give good head? A man with a mouth as smart as that surely knows how to put it to use?”
At eight o’clock there was a knock on Em’s door. Harper had left ten minutes ago, after receiving a text from Dex that Em assumed was explicitly dirty, if her friend’s blush had been any indication. Still, Harper insisted Em was in need of a girls’ night more than Dex was in need of her body. Em had convinced her to leave, but only just. Harper had clearly been torn, confessing she felt guilty over neglecting her bestie since the wedding.
Em smiled and shook her head at the door as she approached it. “Good Lord, woman, go and have sex with your husband or I will,” she said as she opened the door.
Except it wasn’t Harper. It was Linc.
“Oh.” Her heart stopped at the sight of him, jeans snug on his hips and quads, hands jammed into the front pocket of his Sydney Smoke hoodie.
He’d been the last person she’d expected. She’d assumed he was going to need more than a day to think things through. Was this good or bad? “Hey.”
His gaze raked over her, clearly noting her pajamas showing through the open flaps of her robe, but he didn’t say anything other than, “Hey.”
She stepped back. “Come in.” Her heart rat-a-tat-a-tatted as he brushed by.
He prowled to the kitchen bench before turning to face her. The light behind him bathed his short blonde spikes in a golden glow. “You left without these,” he said, removing a hand from the hoodie pocket to reveal two gauzy scraps of leopard print fabric.
She tried not to blush as she walked toward him and claimed her underwear, her skin heating traitorously at the memories. “Thank you.” She tossed them onto the kitchen bench behind him.
He nodded grimly, his hand returning to his pocket. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other for a moment. “About the bet.”
Em waved her hand in the air dismissively. “I don’t care about the bet.”
He frowned. “You…don’t?”
“No. You had plenty of opportunities to win the damn thing that you didn’t take, so let’s just agree it was a dumb locker room thing.”
“It was poker night, actually.”
Em rolled her eyes. “Imagine my surprise… A dumb male-bonding ritual for which you are exceedingly sorry, and leave it at that.”
“Fine.” The corners of his mouth twitched in a self-deprecating grimace. “So…” He withdrew his hands from the pocket and shoved them on his hips. “Five times, huh?”
She lifted her chin again. “Minimum.”
His raised eyebrow told her he didn’t have any problem with her sexual stipulations. “Come to the game tomorrow night.”
Em’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Did that mean what she thought it did? That he was taking up her challenge? That he wanted to go extra time with her?
“Okay,” she said breathily. “When? Where?”
“Five o’clock at the stadium. Front gates. A woman called Eve will meet you and show you to the corporate box where the WAGs hang out.”
She remembered Eve from Harper’s wedding. And her teenage son Liam, who was the team water boy. She should tell him not to make any extra work for Eve, that she could probably just go with Harper, but she liked that he was taking charge, making arrangements for her.
“Okay.”
He smiled then, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Who should I tell her to expect? Emira? Emika? Emogene?”
She returned his smile. “Now you’re just making up names.” He chuckled, and Em felt it vibrate through places low and deep.
“Don’t you think it’s about time I knew your real name? I have seen you naked, after all.”
Em grinned. No amount of naked could persuade her into divulging that. “Not if you wanna see me naked some more.”
His response was gratifyingly speedy. “I want to see you naked a whole lot more.”
A surge of heat swamped her belly as a flood of happiness swamped her chest. “Hell yes.” She took a step toward him, desperate to seal this tentative new relationship with a physical connection. Desperate for the heat and the hardness and the reassurance of his body. “Nuh-uh,” he said, holding up a hand to ward her back. “Not so fast. Proper dates out in public, you said. No booty calls, you said.”
Em halted. Her body protested their distance, the sudden heat between her legs begging for some attention. Damn it. Who’d have thought that would come back to bite her? But she could hardly throw things out the window so early in the piece.
The mad tingle between her legs did not agree.
“Fine,” she said, trying hard not to huff. “After the game tomorrow? Unless you’re too…worn out to manage.”
She smiled innocently. She liked teasing him. It had been a surprise to her to find she liked his macho jock bluster. As a self-confessed sports hater and woman of science, she’d thought herself immune to it.
Which just went to show, you could have a degree and still be dumb as a rock.
“I’d have to be dead.”
She laughed, but it ended in a funny little hitch at the intensity of his reply. She wanted that intensity all up inside her. So bad. “Better leave now if you want to leave here unmolested.”
A wry smile of acknowledgement tugged up one side of his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
He shoved his hands back in his hoodie and strode for the door, giving her a wide berth. Em was still staring after him long moments after the door shut and her phone alerted her to an incoming text. She pulled it out of the pocket of her pajama bottoms.
The text was from Linc. Something to tide you over.
A picture of his belly button filled the screen—a flat, perfect indent.
Lordy, the man’s navel was a masterpiece. Michelangelo couldn’t have created anything more perfect. She pulled down her pajama pants and snapped a quick photo of her own, tapping in Sweet dreams to accompany it.
She added three little X’s and stared at them for long seconds before deleting them and sending the message. She was supposed to be taking it slow.
A text pinged back almost immediately. An emoji of a red apple, and Em smiled, a little trill of joy squirming through her belly. If she wasn’t already half in love with him, that would have done it for it sure.
Without thinking twice, she sent him a red lipstick kiss emoji.
Fuck it.
…
Em hardly recognised Eve the next afternoon. She’d been all glammed up at the wedding, but today she was in baggy jeans and a Smoke jersey, her hair scraped back into what looked like a blue velvet scrunchie.
Considering scrunchies had gone out of style in the last century, it was hard to reconcile this Eve with the other, but she was friendly and chatty as she led Em through the upper echelons of the building.
A bit of a difference from her last visit to Henley—was it only yesterday? —when she’d gotten all down and dirty in the bowels of the building.
“Here it is,” Eve said, indicating the doorway ahead of them, and Em was suddenly nervous as hell.
When Linc had mentioned hanging out in the corporate box with the WAGs last night, she hadn’t really given it any thought. She’d been too thrilled to be invited.
To know he wanted more.
But the butterflies kicked up now. Apart from Harper and some brief introductions at the wedding, she didn’t know any of the WAGs. Would they welcome her or were they wary of outsiders? Was it all cliques and mean girls? Harper had told her they were nice, but…
Just how many of Linc’s women had they seen come and go from this box? Would they look at her with pity? Or would they clo
se ranks and demand to know her intentions? Harper had said they were very protective of their guys.
She hadn’t even known what to wear, ultimately choosing a trendy denim skirt that sat just above her knees and some funky patterned fishnets. Something her inner fashionista felt comfortable in.
Everyone turned to stare as Eve entered and ushered Em out from behind her.
“Em?” Harper frowned at her, obviously confused by her appearance.
She smiled. “Surprise.”
Harper recovered quickly, rushing in for a hug, which Em accepted gratefully, excruciatingly aware of the speculative glances from the other women—both at her and between each other.
“What the hell,” Harper whispered as she hugged Em close. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case…plans changed.” Too many men had cancelled on Em in the past. And she was determined to let things unfold at their own pace with Linc.
“Maybe you could do the honours,” Eve said to Harper. “I need to go and check on Liam.”
“Of course,” Harper said.
A glass of champagne was pressed into her hand, and Em smiled through all the introductions. Everyone was kind and welcoming, but Em would have to have been blind not to see the rampant curiosity her presence had triggered.
At the end of it all, Em and Harper were left standing in a little group with Tanner Stone’s fiancée Matilda and the coach’s daughter Valerie King.
“So you’re the mysterious woman who was in the locker room with Linc yesterday morning that John was telling me about.”
Harper quickly introduced Em to Kathy Trimble, John Trimble’s wife, who joined them with a smile, a glass of champagne in her hand. Ah. So that’s what all those exchanged glances were about earlier. Obviously, the guys had told their partners about the…incident.
Valerie’s eyes went round as saucers. “What?” she half laughed half choked on her champagne.