The Love Game (a Bad Boy Sports Romance) (Damaged Book 3)

by Avery Wilde

  “You’re here.”

  “I am,” she said, her eyes searching mine. “Is this OK? I mean are you good with this?”

  I leaned forward, aware of everyone watching us. “Sure. I mean, of course I am. Where the hell have you been?”

  “We can talk later,” she said nervously. “I think you need to go.”

  I looked at her, a thousand questions running through my mind. “Who’s watching the bar? Shit, I can’t believe you are here.”

  She blushed again. “Friends. I have friends taking care of the bar. I’m so glad to see you!”

  I wanted to say everything that had been building up inside me all at once, but my tongue wouldn’t cooperate. I wanted to tell her, to show her how much I had missed her. I wanted to be alone with her, to feel her in my arms and never, ever let go.

  “Don’t you disappear on me afterwards, OK?” I forced out and took a step closer. Screw it, I was going to kiss her. It would be all over the news later, but I didn’t give a damn. I needed to kiss her, make sure she was really in front of me. Her eyes widened and she nervously bit her bottom lip, causing me to go rock hard under my shorts. Great now I was going to have a raging hard-on on national television.

  “Sir! You have to get on court, like now,” he said in a deep cockney accent. I ignored him. My attention firmly fixed upon Ginny, and the smattering of freckles upon the bridge of her nose and her wild green eyes… and god, those lips.

  She reached out and touched my cheek briefly, her small caress giving me new lease on life. She understood. I could see the need in her eyes, as well. “Go! You can’t be late. Win the match, kick Richardson’s ass.”

  “You’ll be here when I finish? I won’t leave until you say the words,” I demanded, scared that she might say no. I couldn’t bear it if she did. I needed her, desperately, and was about to give up, forfeit it all for her.

  “Yes, I’ll be here. Go!” she answered.

  I grinned and looked at the security guard she was arguing with, seeing his shell-shocked face. I was feeling a bit shell-shocked myself. “Take her to my players’ box. Tell them I said she’s with me. Derek, my coach, knows her.”

  “Y-yes sir,” he replied as I brushed past, gripping my bag as excitement raged within me. Hell yes. I was going to kick this guy’s ass as fast as I could.

  My sneakers touched the first blades of the grass court. It felt good under my feet. Solid, firm, and fast. I dumped my bags and began to stretch, noting that Richardson was already lobbing balls over the net. I took a moment to look back at the filling stands, satisfied as I watched Ginny being escorted to the players’ box diagonally behind the baseline.

  “Dude, you are so fucking late,” Derek shouted over the rustling noise of fans getting settled.

  I turned to Derek, and gave him a grin that I felt deep down inside. He looked pissed, but I didn’t care. “She’s here,” I mouthed.

  Derek gave me a look like I had lost my marbles and waved me over to the side. “Who?”

  “Ginny,” I answered and nodded towards the figure who was getting closer to her seat with the rest of my team.

  I shrugged out of my warm up jacket and continued to stretch my arms.

  Derek shook his head and let out a choked laugh. “That’s great, Damon, really, but you’re about to play in one of the biggest games of your career.”

  I shrugged. “Make sure you look after her, OK? She’s coming to sit with you guys.”

  “Seriously, stop worrying about the girl and get your head in the game. Quit thinking with your cock for one moment and actually play some damn tennis, please? That’s all I ask. Is it so much?”

  I clapped him on the shoulder, gave him a wink as they called time. “Watch this.”

  Damon Holden was back.

  15

  Ginny

  I bit my nails as I stood outside the players’ entrance, the security guard eyeing me like I was going to go ballistic at any moment. I couldn’t blame him, of course; I felt like I was about to have a nervous breakdown if he didn’t show. Damon had played exceptionally well, and I’d enjoyed being in the players’ box again, surrounded by his team, who again for the most part ignored me, until it all went a bit pear-shaped. But still it was the perfect spot from which to watch the match. It had been like a dream come true, really, for as long as it lasted, my eyes pinned to the handsome tennis player who was playing his heart out.

  I still couldn’t believe I had taken the jump and travelled to England. It was completely unlike me. But the pull and chance of seeing Damon again in the flesh was too great to resist. I went back and forth on the decision, of course, spent days trying to decide, hiding the tickets and then ignoring the rapidly approaching deadline. But eventually, after a long conversation with Cara, who had agreed to not only watch my mom but also offered Luke’s services as a bartender on his downtime, I was pushed in the right direction. Luke said he didn’t mind and wanted to keep busy, that it would be the perfect distraction for him. He said that once word got out that he was behind the bar, he almost guaranteed that there would be an uptake in visits. Still cocky as ever, I thought.

  “Go on! You can’t miss this opportunity of a lifetime,” Cara had said, excitement in her voice. “Get your man, girl, and tell me all about it when you get back. Hell, bring him back with you.”

  So with guilt in my belly and the bar in the capable hands of Luke and my assistant manager, I packed my bags, said goodbye to my mom for the second time that year and got onto the plane.

  The thought of bringing him back to meet everyone, to stay in Florida like Cara suggested was a pipe dream, though. I knew it would never happen. His life revolved around tennis, going from country to country, playing the sport he loved. But regardless, I was here, and Damon seemed happy to see me. I mean it had been awkward and not the way I imagined our reunion might go, but I think we were both shocked.

  Now I stood at the entrance, fiddling with my purse and waiting for him to emerge. I’d left before his match ended, managing to catch a glimpse of the remaining sets on the big screen TV on the Hill. But the guard—a different one—refused to allow me back in the players’ waiting area to see Damon, since I didn’t have a pass to do so. I probably should’ve stuck to my guns and stayed in the players’ box, but I started to lose my nerve when an older woman approached me, clearly upset that I was seated in Damon’s section.

  “Who the hell are you?” she asked, her hands on her slim hips.

  “Ginny,” I answered automatically, not really looking at her. My attention was firmly fixed on Damon’s playing.

  “Seriously, who the hell are you?”

  “Shh!” I snapped, maybe a little too harshly. “Keep your voice down. You’re going to distract him,” I said and shoved an arm out in the direction of the court.

  “Well, I never…” she gasped, clearly not used to being talked back to like that. “I will do what I please; I am Ellen Holden, Damon’s mother.”

  I felt the dull flush of embarrassment flood my face. Great, I had just made one hell of an enemy. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But please be quiet.”

  She huffed and sat down a seat away from me, doing it as if it were a great performance. Making sure the cameras caught her, I thought. The umpire spoke into his mic and asked for quiet from the crowd. Ellen tutted but then grinned as a young woman arrived at her side. I glanced at her, trying not to get distracted, but she was looking at me curiously. It was the woman from the photo with Damon, the one in the stunning dress.

  “Who is this?” she hissed in a whisper to Damon’s mother. God, she was more perfect in person, dressed in a tiny sundress with a wide-brimmed hat to match. They were both wearing huge VIP passes, which told me that whoever she was, she was someone important to Damon. There went my grand thoughts about his feelings for me.

  Ellen Holden shrugged. “Hell if I know. Quick, sit down before we get removed.”

  The woman sat down in the only seat available, next to me. I sat rigi
d and uncomfortable, feeling like I didn’t belong. Damon was about to serve, and he looked to his players’ box for encouragement and support. But as his gaze travelled across the faces of his team; his coach, his trainer, his mom, then the woman, and finally me, a shadow clouded over his face. I couldn’t tell if his reaction was because of me or the woman who sat next to me. Either way, it felt like an awkward position to be in.

  Damon managed to win his service game, though he’d made a few mistakes along the way. He looked preoccupied, glancing back to the box with a scowl on his face every so often.

  Ellen shuffled in her seat during the break as the players sat down. “Where are the cushions? Seriously, they expect me to sit here for hours on end on a plastic seat?”

  Her companion nodded in agreement. “I think my bum is going numb,” she said in a perfectly proper English accent.

  “Come on, let’s go to the waiting area. We can get a drink and watch it on TV. We’ll talk to Damon there when he’s finished. But I think I’ll also have a talk with one of the stewards just in case,” she said just loud enough so I could hear, and looked me over once more. A sharp stare. She opened her mouth again to say something before deciding against it. Both women got up and walked away. I thought about apologizing—in case I’d offended her in some way—but the look she had given me told me it probably wasn’t going to work. Clearly she didn’t think I belonged in the players’ box, and no doubt she was about to get me booted out.

  So, I left just in case. I didn’t want to cause Damon any embarrassment, and being hauled out of Wimbledon was not on my bucket list. I thought of going to the waiting area to apologize, but with no pass to get in, my efforts had been pointless. I waited in the only place I could think of where he might emerge—the players’ entrance/exit.

  Thankfully I didn’t have to wait too long, and the door clanged open. Damon stepped out, his hair still wet from his shower and cool-down routine. He didn’t see me, and I felt the dull thud of my heart start to pick up as he looked back behind him, his face red as he shouted at someone following him. It wasn’t long before that someone appeared, and it was his mother, her own face red with anger. The other woman in the sundress was right on her heels, clearly attempting to calm them both down.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Ginny was there at my request.”

  My ears perked up at the mention of my name, not sure whether I should try to duck out of sight or march over and join the conversation. Well, I couldn’t do the latter considering they were still within the roped off section to keep people like me out of the way. The crowd that was passing by slowed, becoming quiet as they overheard the shouting of a celebrity.

  “I didn’t know who she was!” his mother shouted back, walking toward him. “If you had told me...”

  “I don’t want to tell you shit about my life,” he shot back.

  “Come on, let’s not do this here,” the other woman replied, stepping between them. “This is not the place.”

  “You’re right, this is my place of work,” Damon said darkly, shouldering his bag. “Though I don’t think there will ever be a place or time for this conversation.”

  I watched as his mother took a step back, upset as Damon stalked out of the roped-off section, his eyes scanning the crowd before finding me. I swallowed nervously as he moved toward me, anger radiating off him like steam from a recent rain. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed my hand and pulled me with him toward the nearest exit and a waiting car. “Get in,” he said, his voice tight. I looked at him, seeing the anger on his face, and I thought about saying no. This was definitely not my idea of a reunion.

  He must have seen my indecision as his expression softened some. “Please, Ginny,” he said.

  “Just because you said please,” I huffed, sliding into the leather interior of the car. He climbed in behind me, and the driver pulled away from the curb. Damon leaned back on the seat and sighed loudly, rubbing a hand over his face. I sat there, unsure of what to say or do. I wanted to tell him about my words to his mother, how she hadn’t kicked me out but that I’d left on my own accord. It hadn’t been right for me to be there in the first place.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I looked over at him, seeing the weariness on his face as he stared up at the roof of the car. “For what?” I asked gently.

  He looked over at me then. “For all that back there. You didn’t need to see that. She does things to piss me off, and I can’t stand it.”

  I bit my lip. “She didn’t make me leave, Damon. I left.”

  His eyes widened. “Why?”

  I gave him a half shrug, feeling slightly nauseated at the fact. “I didn’t feel right being there. It was nice of you to get me in the box, but I’m not, I mean… that’s for family. It was fine in Paris—your mom wasn’t there. But I guess I just felt awkward taking up space.”

  His eyes hardened then as he looked at me, his expression not exactly friendly. “I put you there because I wanted you to be there, Ginny. Don’t you know… Hell, why does it matter anyway?”

  “What?” I asked, afraid of what he might say.

  “Nothing,” he ground out.

  “No, tell me.”

  “Your absence nearly lost me the match. When I didn’t see you there, I thought I had dreamt the entire fucking thing.”

  I felt a wealth of emotions cross through me as he raged on, my mind going back to what he was about to say about me before I had questioned him. What was he going to say? Did he truly have feelings for me? Did I affect him that much? I was stunned to believe it was true. I had missed him so much that it physically hurt, but to think he had the same feelings was beyond my comprehension.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out, confused and a bit wary. “I’m sorry I left. I thought it was for the best. I thought I was going to be kicked out. I didn’t want to cause you any embarrassment.”

  He blew out a breath, some of the anger dissipating from his expression. “I know. I’m sorry I’m taking this all out on you.” He then looked over, “God, where have you been? I missed you, Gin.”

  I held my breath as conflicting emotions welled up within me. Me, he missed me. Swallowing hard, I reached up and cupped his cheek, surprised when he leaned into my touch, his eyes closing. Maybe, just maybe this was actually real. It was something that I would have never in a thousand years thought was going to be part of my life. My feelings, while confused, were starting to build exponentially for him, and they scared me to death. I was going to lose my entire heart to him.

  Pushing the thought away, I leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips, hearing him growl in response. “I missed you too, Damon, so much.”

  He opened his eyes, the longing and intensity of them taking my breath away. “But I’m here now,” I continued, making a quick decision and straddling him on the seat.

  His eyes dilated, and I felt a tiny thrill run through my body. I had no idea where we were going or how long it was going to take us to get there, but the driver was enclosed behind a dark-paned glass, and we were alone for the most part. I felt his hands go to my hips, his eyes searching mine.

  “Yes, you are, and I don’t want to waste another second,” he said, his fingers inching up my sides, taking my shirt with them. I felt the rush of cold air on my heated skin as he stripped me of my t-shirt, exposing my bra underneath. His hands covered my aching breasts, and I closed my eyes, realizing how much I had missed his touch. They roamed over the lacy cups of my bra, teasing my already hard nipples with his fingers and eliciting a gasp from me as the sizzling heat shot all the way down to my groin.

  “You know I have a rule,” he said softly, causing me to open my eyes to look at him, “about sex while I’m playing tennis.”

  I leaned down, capturing his lower lip with my mouth and sucking gently before letting go with a smile. “But you aren’t playing tennis now. You have me to play with.”

  “Damn right,” he answered, a grin sp
reading over his lips. The car stopped, and Damon grabbed my shirt, helping me put it back on. I climbed off his lap as the door opened. “Come on, my little minx,” he said as he climbed out. A grin on my face, I climbed out of the car. He captured my hand, dragging me toward a hotel.

  16

  Damon

  I was as hard as a rock. Well, technically I had been hard as a rock for weeks, but at that moment, I had a sense of urgency to bury myself between Ginny’s soft thighs and never leave. It was going to be fast and furious once I got her upstairs, and I had a slight suspicion she didn’t care. Her little performance in the car told me she was just as hot and just as ready for what I had in mind.

  Pulling her through the lobby, I ignored the stares as I got us both into an empty elevator. I pawed at her body, slammed her against the sides of the elevator, and kissed her like she was the answer to all my prayers. She laughed as I rained kisses down on her face and neck. Her smell was intoxicating.

  “I need you. You don’t know how much,” I told her, the emotions nearly choking me. I couldn’t believe she was actually here, in my arms. When I had looked at the players’ box and saw that she was no longer there, the rage that coursed through my body scared the hell out of me. It was like she was my lifeline, and I knew deep down inside I had no intentions of letting her go. Not ever.

  “I-I need you too,” she said, looking a bit dazed herself as she clung to me. “Can this elevator go any slower?”

  I groaned and buried my face against the side of her neck, tasting the delicate skin just below her ear. I wanted to kiss her all over, worship her body until we were both exhausted. She was helping me forget, about my mom, about my dad, about the damn game. I wanted to just be. With her.