Her Best Shot

by Shannyn Schroeder

  “Stay with me.” It came out as a cross between a plea and a command.

  “I can’t do that.” She walked out the door to get a good night’s sleep. She had to be on her game tomorrow. A day or two of playing pool and then back to the real world and her real life. One where there was no room for Phin.

  Phin didn’t sleep. After his conversation with Layla, he realized how wrong he’d been. She’d tried using him to run from her life, but he’d been no better. He filled his life with excuses rather than sticking to his plan. His bank account held plenty to carry him into the next phase.

  Last night, he’d decided that Layla was his next phase. They belonged together, and he was determined to make her see that. He was willing to walk away from everything to get her. In the early morning light, a plan developed.

  He always played to win.

  Chapter 10

  Layla’s first game of the day was the following afternoon. Although a night of restlessness made her miss her practice time, she managed to win. Another round done. She might not be good enough to get into the finals and take home the purse—she was up against guys who’d been playing for years and did nothing but play pool—but she refused to go home after only two matches.

  After her win, she scanned the area for Phin. She’d been sure he would show to watch her play. He’d shown up everywhere, but not when she made it into the semifinals. Phin’s pals from the day before stood on the perimeter of the room, but Phin wasn’t with them. She checked the schedule and saw that his game would be starting soon.

  Grabbing a cup of coffee, she wandered the hall and watched a few matches, and tried to pick out who she might face next. Then she saw Phin. He looked ragged. She stayed out of his line of sight, but watched.

  When it was his turn, Phin barely looked at the table. He leaned over and took a careless shot. The three ball bounced around, clanking into other balls, and going nowhere. What the hell was he doing? She’d never seen him take such a sloppy shot. Even his opponent looked shocked. It had been a rookie move. His opponent was good and Phin didn’t care.

  Then it hit her. He was throwing the game. He was giving up. She almost stormed over to the table to yell at him, but didn’t want to get penalized for interference. She fumbled for her phone and sent him a text.

  Stop fucking around and win.

  He glanced at his phone and searched the crowd for her. She stepped forward and made eye contact. He shrugged.

  I don’t want to win because you quit.

  Then she added:

  Please.

  He checked the table and texted back.

  Spend the night with me.

  They stared at each other from opposite sides of the table. He was going to coerce her into sleeping with him? She shouldn’t care. She’d planned on playing at this tournament regardless of whether he showed. Why did she need to beat him?

  Phin hopped off his chair and she realized it was his turn. He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her answer as he approached the table.

  She gave him a stiff nod.

  Then he forgot about her presence as he attacked the table. The crowd around her closed in, amazed by the sudden turnaround. She didn’t need to see; she knew he would win. Because Phin always played to win.

  Had he known she was watching? Or had he really planned to give up? She backed away from the match and stood at the door. Moments later, Phin emerged from the crowd, people slapping his back as he cut through. He headed straight for her as if she wore a homing device.

  As soon as he was close enough, her angry whisper tore through her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Playing pool.”

  “No, you were giving up. Why?”

  “My need to win doesn’t matter. It’s more important to you, so I’m willing to step aside.” He shifted his case to his left hand.

  “You can’t let me win. That’s the same as saying I’m not good enough to beat you.”

  He laughed quietly. “We both know you’re not good enough to beat me.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “We’ve already established that.”

  He stepped closer and she gripped her cue case with both hands, afraid to move.

  “Let’s go upstairs. They won’t have results up until later this afternoon.”

  “I don’t owe you my whole day, just the night.” The thought of lying naked and sweaty with Phin made her warm all over.

  “We’ll be playing against each other sometime tonight. One of us has to lose. Are you still going to want to sleep with me after that?”

  “Still? Who said I wanted to sleep with you now?”

  He leaned close and sniffed her. “I can smell your desire. You want me every bit as much as I want you. You wanted closure. This is my closure.”

  “Fine.” It would be the best good-bye sex she’d probably ever experience.

  His eyes widened. He hadn’t expected her to agree. She smiled and walked toward the elevator.

  Holy fuck. He’d never thought she’d say yes. At best, he’d expected a “fuck you”; at worst, a slap across the face.

  “Your room?” she asked.

  They’d always been in his place. He wanted to know what Layla’s place looked like, even though it was just a hotel room. “Let’s go to yours.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed, but she pressed seven on the elevator.

  She stood stiffly beside him, and he tried to come up with something to say.

  “Why’d you agree?”

  “To what?”

  “Coming with me.”

  She snorted. “You haven’t gotten me to come yet.”

  “But we both know I can. Again and again.”

  Color crept up her long neck. He wanted to flick the buttons open on her blouse. He’d never pictured her in anything but jeans and T-shirts, and this version of Layla was a turn-on. All professional and shit. He imagined her in an office and then thought of fucking her on the desk. He shifted and adjusted himself as the elevator arrived on seven.

  Inside her room she placed her case on the dresser and he laid his beside it. Then she stripped. No pretense, no games. In less than a minute she was wearing nothing more than a bra and panties.

  “In a hurry?”

  “You wanted good-bye sex. What’s the point in messing around? Let’s get to the sex so we can get to the good-bye.”

  She had no idea what she was in for. He’d thought about it for the last two months. Over the last two days, he’d pictured this moment. He might not have a way with words, but he’d show her how he felt. What she meant to him.

  Everything. He wanted to give and take it all. He just hoped that he held on to enough patience to go as slow as he knew he needed to.

  Layla closed the distance and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her kiss was harsh and lusty. She was a girl looking to get laid. He grabbed the back of her neck and slowed the pace of the kiss, but she rammed her hips against his thigh.

  “This is my idea, my time, my way,” he whispered against her lips.

  “And now you have a problem with the way I kiss you?”

  “Only because you’re in a rush and I plan on taking my time with you to savor every last taste . . . moan . . . quiver.” His hands grazed over her bare stomach and the muscles twitched, giving him plenty of satisfaction. He held her hand and pulled her toward the bed. He sat on the edge and kissed his way down her torso and across her hipbone.

  Her hands held his shoulders. For purchase or to have the ability to shove him away, he wasn’t sure, but when he sucked on her nipple through her bra, her nails dug into his skin, and her thighs tensed. She tried to shove him back onto the bed, but he turned and had her beneath him instead.

  He continued to kiss her face, her neck, her breasts, her stomach, until she was panting and wiggling against his thigh. She tried to grab his crotch, but he moved out of her reach.

  “Come on, Phin. Get naked. It’s more fun when both of us are naked and sweaty.”

&nb
sp; “We’ll get there.” He unclasped her bra and slid it off. He traced the line of her panties across her stomach, and she raised her hips to give him a hint. He tugged the damp panties off and touched her. Her hips bucked at the first stroke, but he wanted more. She smelled so good, so tempting. He lowered his head and kissed her thigh, working his way up.

  She suddenly jolted up. “What are you doing?”

  “I said I wanted to go down on you.”

  “But you don’t do that.” Her eyes were wide and panicked.

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “Lie back and relax.” He shoved her shoulder gently and pulled her hips to his face. He’d watched enough porn to have an idea of what to do. He ran his tongue along the length of her slit and tasted the tang of her arousal. His dick throbbed in response. His lips brushed against her and she moaned. “Let me know if I do something you don’t like.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He chuckled against her, causing another moan. He licked and sucked and thrust his tongue into her. When he tugged her clit and sucked hard, her body stiffened. He released and looked up across her naked body. “Not good?”

  “Too.” She released a gasp. “Good. Don’t. Stop.”

  So he didn’t. Her hands gripped his scalp, pulling at the short hair, and she threw her legs over his shoulders, guiding him into her. His tongue and fingers worked her and moved away and brought her to the brink until she was whimpering.

  And then she broke, screaming his name along with God’s, and her muscles clenched and trembled. When she released him, he crawled over her, his dick so hard it hurt, so he couldn’t get naked. Not yet.

  He smoothed her hair away from her face and allowed his fingers to touch her face until she opened her eyes. He smirked. “I think I did pretty good for my first time, but I might need some more practice.”

  The panic hadn’t left her face, but she tried to cover it. “Fuck you, Phin. Glad I could be your guinea pig. You nailed it. Hurray for you.” Then she added a saucy grin. “Yay for me too, because that was one helluva orgasm.”

  “Ready for another?”

  “Always.” She said it like a dare.

  He stripped and put on a condom. He covered her body with his, and she closed her eyes as she wrapped her legs around his hips. His cock was poised at her entrance and he wanted to bury himself.

  “Look at me, Layla.”

  Her throat worked and her eyes fluttered open.

  He inched into her slowly, and, with every slight movement, he broke away another piece of the barrier she’d constructed around her heart. Once he was all the way in, he stopped and relished the feel of her surrounding him completely. He lowered his head and kissed her neck. With his face tucked into that soft spot, he slid out and back in, creating a smooth rhythm.

  “Why were you willing to walk away from your life to be with me?” he whispered in her ear. He wanted to know, needed to know that she loved him.

  “It had nothing to do with you.”

  He paused midstroke and raised up on his elbows to see her eyes. “Really?”

  “Well, spending time with you was fun, but you weren’t the deciding factor.”

  “What was?”

  The wall in her eyes shuttered. “Are we going to fuck or have a conversation?”

  “Both.” He slid all the way in and stopped again, pressing against her clit with his pelvic bone. She tried to squirm, looking for the second orgasm he’d promised her. “Tell me, Layla, and I’ll let you come.” He ground against her again and she groaned.

  He stared into her eyes, needing her to see his sincerity, needing to see the real Layla without her armor and sarcasm. “Please. I want to know.”

  “I had a panic attack and I didn’t want to go back. That was it.”

  Those were not words he’d expected. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t that. Layla was so together; he couldn’t imagine her having a panic attack.

  “Fuck me now, or get the hell off.” Her words bit at him.

  He began thrusting again and allowed her to meet him. When she was close, he backed off and reached between them and pressed his thumb against her clit. He watched her shatter for a second time and then followed her.

  They lay on the bed, chests heaving, muscles lax. Phin didn’t want to move. He wanted to continue holding Layla, but she smacked his arm. “Off,” she grunted.

  As soon as he rolled to the side, she scooted out from under him and went to the bathroom without so much as a glance in his direction.

  “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  Wait. She was throwing him out? “Tell me about the panic attack.”

  “No deal. You said you’d continue to really play if I slept with you. You got what you wanted, plus a bonus answer to a question simply because I really wanted to come again. I’m not giving you any more.”

  She closed the door behind her, and he sat up when he heard the water running. He wouldn’t walk away. He’d chosen her room so that she couldn’t either. They would figure this out now or neither of them would make it to the tournament.

  Layla stood under the hot spray of the water feeling raw and exposed. She didn’t regret the sex because she’d known that would be great, but it was supposed to be good-bye sex and he’d made it feel like make-up sex. Or welcome home sex. She couldn’t believe that he’d gotten her so wound up that she’d told him about her panic attacks. She’d never told anyone about them except for her therapist and Charlie and Felicity. People who wouldn’t judge her.

  After she’d told Phin, she’d seen the look in his eyes. Knew he’d never look at her the same. She was broken, and he couldn’t reconcile that image with the girl he knew. She understood that because she couldn’t reconcile that part of her with who she knew herself to be. Panic attacks made her feel weak, like less of a person because she couldn’t control them.

  When the bathroom was filled with steam and she was sure Phin would’ve given up on waiting for her, she stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. She opened the door and the steam billowed out, leading the way into the now-dark room.

  Shit. Phin was still there. He’d pulled his pants back on, but sat against the headboard of her bed.

  He looked at her with a smirk. “I don’t give up that easily.”

  She hated that he saw through her. “Get out of my room.”

  “Not until you talk to me. You’re quick to point out my shortcomings in the communication department, and yet you failed to mention that you have panic attacks.”

  “A panic attack.” She didn’t really count the one on the way down to Georgia. It hadn’t become a full attack.

  “I’ve never heard of a random, out of the blue panic attack.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “Talk to me, Layla.”

  “No.” She went to the dresser and pulled out fresh panties and a bra. She dropped the towel and dressed in front of Phin. When she slid her arm into her blouse, he came up behind her and held out the other sleeve, and then proceeded to button her up. All she could do was stare.

  “I want to know you like you want to know me. Aside from having amazing sex with you, I like who I am with you, and I think you feel the same. Why are you fighting it?”

  “Because . . .” Tightness in her chest began building. Why was she fighting it? Wasn’t this what she’d wanted from Phin two months ago? If he had opened up then . . . She would’ve left school and disappointed her parents. Would’ve abandoned an awesome job offer. “You were right in Atlanta. As much as I loathe admitting it, I was crazy to think that following you all over the country was a good idea. I have my life and you have yours. We had a great spring break.”

  His thumb stroked her cheek. “We can have more.”

  “How? You’ll never look at me as your equal, and I won’t settle for anything less. Am I supposed to sit around waiting for you to blow through town to give me a night of your time
before you leave again?” She inhaled slowly, filling her lungs to capacity, refusing to let panic take hold. But then she realized it wasn’t panic, but plain old fear.

  She didn’t know if she was more afraid that Phin would walk away, or that he wouldn’t.

  “Layla.” His voice coasted over her, wrapping her in comfort. “I wanted this last tournament for the money. That’s all. This last purse isn’t going to make or break me; it was just the threshold I named for my plans and myself. The last one, the last big win.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I picked a random number that represented what I would need to buy a house and fill it with furniture and appliances.”

  She shook her head. “No. Why were you willing to throw the last game and walk away from your goal?”

  He ran his hands up and down her arms. “If I don’t win, I give up what? Maybe getting a huge TV? A leather couch? None of that matters. You do. I don’t want to take anything from you. You’ve worked hard to be able to get into this tournament.”

  “But by not playing, you are taking that away from me. I can live with losing to you.” Again. Maybe.

  “I don’t want you to lose to me. I don’t want to play against you. I like it better when we’re on the same side.”

  He pulled her to him and held her. She heard his heart beating a steady rhythm under his smooth skin. She loved the feel of him, the smell of him, and relaxed in his arms.

  “I think I love you,” he whispered.

  Her breath froze in her lungs. She hadn’t expected that. She started to pull away, but he held her tight.

  “Shh . . . I don’t know if it’s love because I’ve never been here before. But I do know that when you left, I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to call you and apologize, but I knew it wouldn’t be fair. I tried to accept that I had fucked up and lost you.”