Playing Dirty

by Amy Andrews

  Parts that ached so much more on nights like tonight.

  She’d tried so hard, damn it. Tried to be good, not to cause any further ripples in her father’s life. She’d only ever wanted him to love her. Val drained her martini to push back the abyss.

  “You’re thinking you want another drink?” he said.

  She sucked the olives off the toothpick one at a time, watching him steadily. “Nope.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth as she licked the glistening residue from her lips, and muscles deep inside her belly heated, melted. He lifted his eyes to hers. “You want to order something to eat?”

  “No.”

  “Dance?”

  “No.”

  “You…want to get out of here?”

  Val smiled. “Warmer.”

  “To another bar?

  She huffed out a small laugh. “Colder.”

  “To…my place?”

  They may not have been saying very much, but their eyes were carrying on a full conversation. His, busily assessing her signals, dancing around the question. Hers, daring him not to, expressing her interest.

  “Hot,” she murmured. “Very hot.”

  Hell yeah, she wanted to go to his place. Because the night was long and she couldn’t think of a better way to forget this shitty day. And because it was the biggest fuck you to her father she could think of. Which probably made her a terrible human being at the moment, but being good and trying to always do the right thing had only gotten her heartache.

  The fact that the vehicle for her defiance came wrapped in such a sexy package was an added bonus.

  Not that she had any intention of telling her father. It’d bring all kinds of crap down on Kyle’s head, and she had no desire to trash his career. But she’d know. She’d know she’d deliberately flouted Griffin King’s rule—Coach’s daughter is off-limits.

  “To…see my harbour view?”

  Val gave him more brownie points for attempting to clarify her expectations. “You live on the harbour?”

  “I live a few streets back, but yeah…you can see a little water.”

  He could have lived in a tent that looked out onto a brick wall and she wouldn’t have cared less. “I hope you’re not offended if I say no to the view.”

  He grinned. “Not even a little bit.”

  “Good, then.” Val took a steadying breath as she slid off the stool. “Shall we go?”

  Kyle stood also, abandoning his barely touched beer. He was taller than her by a good few inches, and that was sexy, too. At five ten in her flats, she could look a lot of men in the eye. She had to tip her head back to meet his gaze, and she liked it.

  “Night, Chuckers,” she called, dragging her gaze off Kyle to grab her bag.

  Charles looked over his shoulder. “Night, Val. I’ll be over in the morning for my usual,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was glaring at Kyle. Then he made a V sign, jabbing it toward his own eyes and then swivelling it around to jab it in Kyle’s direction.

  I’m watching you.

  Kyle blinked and murmured, “He’s not your father, is he?”

  The irony snap froze like ice in Val’s chest. Charles acted more like a father toward her than the man who had given her life.

  “No, he’s not. But he does have a shotgun under the bar, I believe.”

  “Am I allowed to ask about his usual?”

  Val smiled. “I could tell you,” she whispered, “but I’d have to kill you.”

  Chapter Two

  Once outside, Kyle turned them toward the glitz and glamour of Manly proper. They didn’t talk very much on the ten-minute walk to his apartment. The crowds of people out and about, enjoying the many restaurants and bars in the trendy waterside suburb of Sydney, took the pressure off conversation. But he was aware of her closeness, of the cool night air, of the drumming of his heart keeping step with each footfall.

  He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Kyle didn’t often pick up women in bars—although the opportunities to do so were frequent—and he certainly hadn’t planned on hooking up tonight. He’d just been after a quiet place to celebrate surviving his first couple of days training because he’d ached too much last night to be bothered. But he’d felt invigorated today, and getting out of his apartment for a quick couple of beers before hitting the sack early had appealed. Somewhere quiet and secluded. Somewhere he might not be recognised.

  Which hadn’t worked out particularly well for him.

  But being recognised by a sexy redhead wasn’t any hardship, and even before she’d rattled off his stats she’d had him by the balls. There’d been something about Val—maybe it had been her solitude—that had wrapped fingers around his gut. Those fingers squeezed even harder now as each step bought them closer to his place.

  To his bed.

  It may have been a nippy August night, but his body was hot with anticipation. The air in his lungs was scorching and a fucking furnace roared in his groin. They passed a darkened alley and he suppressed the urge to push her into it and kiss her senseless. Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so instantly.

  Worse than that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d liked a woman so instantly.

  He felt…bewitched. Val had disarmed him with her curious mix of frankness and vulnerability, and it had surprised the hell out of him when she’d suggested they go back to his place. He hadn’t felt like he was getting anywhere until that moment.

  Still, it didn’t feel like a sleazy bar pickup, and he didn’t want it to. It felt like…the beginning of something, which was ludicrous and fanciful—as if he had time for a relationship now his rugby career goals were paying dividends—but it was there nonetheless. He reached for her hand. It was cold, and he enfolded her fingers in his and gave them a squeeze. She smiled at him and suddenly it felt more like a date.

  “This is me,” Kyle said as they approached a building with a buzzing sidewalk café.

  They rode the lift to his apartment in silence, side by side, hands still joined. Kyle’s pulse was loud in his ears as the anticipation cranked up another notch and he wondered if she could feel it, too. The lift dinged, and his heart rate accelerated as he tugged gently on her hand and she followed him without hesitation. By the time they stopped in front of his apartment, his entire body throbbed with awareness of her, of what was about to happen.

  Kyle dropped her hand as he unlocked the door, smiling at her as he pushed it open. “Ladies first.”

  She brushed past him into the darkened interior, and his groin tightened. A glimpse of city lights through a partially open glass sliding door cast an ambient glow into the open-plan room, but Kyle wanted to see her when he kissed her, when he undressed her. He wanted to see all of her. He reached past her to flip on the light switch.

  She slid her hand onto his forearm. “Can we leave them off?”

  Kyle frowned at the husky request, dropping his hand immediately and moving in behind her, his front almost touching her back. The smell of her shampoo filled his nostrils with the intoxicating force of a drug. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes.”

  But she sounded hesitant, and he slid his hands onto her shoulders. Her muscles tightened under his hands as he gently turned her to face him. Slipping a finger under her chin, he tipped it up, his gaze probing hers.

  “We don’t have to do this, Val.” His other hand curled around her bicep, his thumb gently caressing the underside. “We really can just look at my view.” He wanted this woman—bad. But only if she wanted it just as bad. And at the moment she didn’t seem so sure. “I can fix us something to eat, and we can talk and watch the harbour lights. They’re really pretty.”

  Her lips curved up at his suggestion, and Kyle smiled back. He supposed pretty lights wasn’t a very masculine thing to say, but he wasn’t all about balls and rucking. He could be refined, damn it.

  “Or we could watch a DVD. Or pick out something on Netflix.”

  She regarded h
im for a moment or two, her lips losing their curve. “You don’t want to…”

  She let the suggestion trail off, but Kyle jumped right on it. “Oh I want to.” He wanted to so fucking bad his hands trembled with need. “I wanted to since the second I saw you sitting on that barstool, but you seem kinda tense and nervous and I think a little…sad.”

  Yes, sad. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it in the bar, but it was suddenly clear—she’d been struggling with something tonight.

  “Whatever it is, I’m not entirely sure you’re in the right frame of mind to be sleeping with someone you only just met, so—”

  She placed her finger against his lips, and Kyle’s words died in his throat. Her finger was scorching against his mouth, and he wanted to suck it inside, but he just stood there, his gaze searching hers, waiting for her next move.

  “Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

  “No, ma’am.” Hell to the no. His lips brushed the pad of her finger, and he almost groaned at the sensation. “I just want you to be sure.”

  He needed her to be sure.

  She smiled then, and the sadness lurking in her eyes cleared. “I am.” She stepped in really close, her body fitting snug against his. Kyle’s hands settled on her hips as she pushed herself up onto her toes, evening out their heights. She slid her arms around his neck. “It’s my birthday today.”

  He raised his eyebrows. Was that why she was sad? He knew some women were funny about their birthdays, about aging generally. Or was it that she just had no one to celebrate it with?

  Well…she did now. And birthday sex was his favourite kind.

  “I guess…” He splayed his fingers wide on her hips. “This makes me your present?”

  She gave a husky laugh. “I guess it does.”

  “In that case…” His hands slid onto her ass, pulling her closer, the hardness of his erection snug against the short fly of her skinny jeans. “I am at your disposal. Anything in particular you’d like? The birthday girl should get to choose.”

  “Anything in particular you’d recommend?”

  She shifted against him, and Kyle sucked in a breath. This woman could have whatever the hell she wanted. “You name it, I can provide it.” He didn’t believe in being modest when it came to his talents—on the field or in the bedroom. “I am exceptionally gifted with my tongue, however. I can put that anywhere you’d like it.”

  “Good to know.” She grinned. “I think maybe I should unwrap you first, though?”

  Kyle wasn’t about to object to that. “Do I get to unwrap you, too?”

  “Maybe.” She leaned in, her lips close to his ear. “If you’re good,” she whispered.

  “Oh I’m good,” he muttered. “Very good.”

  …

  Val’s breath hitched at the raspy promise in his voice. She had no doubt. Kyle had already proven his goodness in the most basic way possible. He’d hadn’t just seen a woman sitting alone at a bar ripe for the pickup. He’d shown insight. He’d seen beyond. To the things she was feeling, the things she hadn’t said. He’d even given her an out. And that was why she was here with him, about to do the wild thing.

  A man who was sensitive to a woman’s needs out of bed and willing to service her in any way in bed was a rare beast. The fact he was just a little bit forbidden added to the allure.

  Val smiled as she took a step away from him, running her eyes over his chest and abs, down his quads and calves, then back up again, lingering on the bulge in his jeans. She stepped closer again, but left some air between them this time, their gazes locking as she reached for the top button of his shirt, easing it undone.

  Keeping eye contact, she undid the next and the next and the next until his shirt was flapping open. She hummed her approval at the shadowy outline of muscles. “Nice.”

  Her husky voice was loud in the silence, as was the swish of fabric as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and down. Breaking their gaze, she walked around behind him and yanked the shirt all the way off, dropping it to the floor. His back was a broad, bare landscape—the ridges and dips of his ribs, the furrow of his spine, the hard outline of muscle. And acres of warm skin.

  Val traced a finger from where his nape met the straight edge of his hairline to the small of his back. His ragged exhalation stroked between her legs, as hot and urgent as a finger. She leaned in and pressed her nose between his shoulder blades, inhaling. God. He even smelled forbidden.

  Like voodoo. Joss sticks and dripping candles and sandalwood.

  It was intoxicating.

  Pulling away, she sidled around to his front again. His eyes were hooded as he gazed at her, but she could still see their tawny gleam. “Having fun back there, were you?”

  Val just smiled and reached for his jeans. “Shoes.”

  The man didn’t hesitate, toeing his rugged-looking boots off as she slid his belt out of the loops and made short work of his fly. He didn’t hesitate when she pushed his jeans off his hips, either. In a flash, he’d kicked out of them and toed them aside until he stood before her in nothing but a pair of black, low-riding boxer briefs.

  Boxer briefs that barely contained an impressive erection. An erection she hoped would soon be inside her.

  A sudden thought pierced the sexual haze fogging her brain. Condoms. She hoped he had condoms. She never carried them, because she didn’t usually do this type of thing and she was on the pill. But that didn’t cover for diseases, did it?

  Christ. Don’t be an idiot, Val.

  He was a sporting celebrity. He probably hooked up all the time. He probably had a revolving door of women who came over to see his view. Of course he’d have condoms. For his revolving-door women. Those big Trojan fuckers, judging by the size of that bulge. He probably had sponsors stuffing them in his pockets along with hundred-dollar notes.

  She leaned back, admiring the view, her gaze lingering on the thick bulk of his cock, a trill of anticipation worming through her belly. “Happy birthday to me,” she murmured, her gaze travelling up a smooth, perfectly-sculpted chest to his face.

  He gave a low chuckle, its raspiness deliciously abrasive against her nipples. “So this is how it’s going to be, huh? You get to be fully dressed, and I get to be…not.”

  Val didn’t think he looked particularly perturbed to be not in front of her. “I was just unwrapping my present,” she said, trying to be reasonable as she dropped her gaze to his boxer briefs again. “Haven’t finished yet, either.”

  “Let me guess, you were one of those carefully-remove-the-tape-to-keep-the-pretty-paper-intact kids, weren’t you?”

  Val laughed and nodded. “And you were the tear-right-in type?”

  He grinned. “You know it.”

  It was a surprising admission for someone who was so disciplined on the field. Disciplined, as many would say, to the detriment of his teammates. But he obviously wasn’t remotely bothered by admitting such a lack of control in other areas.

  And the thought that he was going to unleash all that gluttony on her body rippled through her abs and tightened her nipples.

  “How about throwing me a bit of a bone before going any further?” He tipped his chin at her shirt, her bare nipples rubbing against the fabric, obviously high-beaming him even in the semi dark.

  She laughed. “I think you’ve got more than enough bone there for two men.”

  He seemed totally unabashed at her observation. Kyle was obviously a man at ease with his body and its…functions. He was certainly comfortable with being all but naked in front of her, and his confidence was a huge freaking turn-on.

  The way he was staring at her even more so.

  In a snap decision, she grasped the hem of her top and pulled it off over her head, tossing it on the floor near the steadily mounting pile of clothes.

  His eyes bugged at the sight of her naked breasts. “Good Christ…”

  Ordinarily, Val would have been self-conscious about her size. Particularly in the presence of his size. But hell if sh
e didn’t care tonight. She’d gone to the bar without her usual crutches—makeup and a push-up bra—because picking up hadn’t been on her mind. But she had, and this was her. Freckles and an A cup. No one could accuse her of false advertising.

  And Kyle didn’t seem to care. His dick certainly didn’t.

  He dragged his eyes off her chest, his breathing uneven. “Don’t stop now.”

  His low request, his intense stare, emboldened her. She unsnapped her jeans and yanked down the very short zip before wriggling out of the denim while she kicked off her flats. By the time she straightened, the only thing between her and naked was her favourite thong, purple with a lacy trim.

  “I think that makes us even.”

  She got an up-close look at the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Purple thong is my favourite colour.”

  Val smiled. “Purple thong is not a colour.”

  “It should be.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “So you’d prefer it to, say…commando?”

  “Oh hell no.” He frowned at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Naked beats all the colours.”

  “Yeah.” She eyed his almost-naked body. “I’d have to agree.

  He grinned. “What next, birthday girl?”

  Touch. She had to touch him. A distant siren wailed in through the open glass doorway. A wise person might have taken it as some kind of portent, but Val was too far gone to pay any heed.

  She took the one step required to bring her body up against his and swore she heard the sizzle as her nipples came into contact with the smooth hardness of his chest. She certainly heard the quick, rough intake of his breath. Rising to her toes, she slid her hands around his neck, their mouths so very, very close.

  But there were parts of them that were closer. Val was excruciatingly aware that only two scraps of fabric were keeping them decent, and the hard ridge of his erection was pressing against the screamingly sensitive flesh between her legs.