The Player and the Pixie (Rugby #2)

by Penny Reid

  Tom had arranged for his best sous chef to cook for us, and for a starter we were served the most delicious catfish cakes with a tangy lemon dipping sauce. Sean was being decidedly quiet as the men chatted about the upcoming rugby season. Thankfully, Annie was directly across from me, so we could chat about plans for the blog.

  “Does all this sport talk bore you as much as it bores me?” Tom leaned in to ask, somewhere in between the starter and the main course.

  I chuckled and gave him a friendly smile. “Pretty much. I’m far more interested in the food we’re eating.”

  Tom grinned widely, his hand going to his chest. “Ah, a woman after my own heart.”

  Right at that moment, I froze as I felt a warm hand grip my thigh beneath the table. I’d just lifted my glass of white wine to take a sip and almost spat it out. My heart raced as Sean’s thumb drew circles on my knee before his palm slid slowly upward.

  Lifting a foot, I made sure no one was paying attention when I stamped it down hard on his. He only smiled in return, like my attempt to hurt him was adorable. While Annie was momentarily distracted talking to Ronan, and Tom was focused on Bryan, I turned my head discreetly to Sean and whispered, “Stop it.”

  His knuckles brushed lightly over my crotch and I trembled as he lifted his wine glass to his mouth to disguise his response. “No.”

  Why was he being like this?

  I frowned, both angry and aroused, and decided I’d had enough when his thumb dipped beneath the hem of my top and smoothed over the lower part of my belly.

  Swiftly rising from my seat, I told Annie I was going to use the bathroom before the main course was served. Once I’d flicked the lock over and was cocooned safely in the privacy of a cubicle, I felt like I could breathe again. My hands were shaking, and for the first time in my life I felt like stealing for a reason completely unconnected to my mother. The little complementary hand towels and soaps by the sink were in serious danger of being shoved inside my handbag.

  I closed my eyes and worked to calm myself.

  Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are.

  When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.

  Ah, that was better. I didn’t need those hand towels, and I certainly didn’t need the fancy little eucalyptus-scented soaps wrapped in pretty purple wax paper. I just needed to relax and accept what was really happening here.

  Sean’s beef with Ronan, and my inconvenient feelings for a man my brother disliked immensely were giving me a severe case of anxiety. That was a fact. I needed to simply accept it and get through the evening. That was all.

  I sat down on the closed lid of the toilet just as I heard the door open and someone step inside. There was a long, masculine sounding exhalation before Sean said, “Lucy, let me in.”

  And just like that, I was on edge again. My eyes flared in disbelief that he’d followed me into the bathroom. There were only six people at our table, and the absence of two wouldn’t go unnoticed. Jumping up swiftly, I threw open the door.

  “Get out of here now,” I hissed, my hands going to his chest and pushing him toward the exit. He gripped them in his own and held them there, his eyes meeting mine.

  “Relax, no one’s going to catch us,” he said in a low voice. “I just need to make you come. I promise I’ll be quick.”

  I stared at him and his audacity for a full three seconds before I shrieked on a whisper, “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Lucy, please,” he whispered. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

  “Puh-lease! I’m sure you were thinking about me all last night when you were out with other women, ‘testing your new evil orgasm powers.’” I added air quotes to the last part, wanting to be as obnoxious as possible.

  “No,” he ground out. “There were no women.”

  I gasped, then sputtered in surprise. No women? Why did that make my heart soften so instantaneously? Crap!

  He took advantage of my stunned state to march me back into the cubicle, releasing one of my hands just long enough to close and lock the stall door. “But I did think about you all last night when I was alone and I touched myself, imagined you coming on my tongue,” he kissed my jaw, “and fingers,” he kissed my neck, “and cock,” he kissed my lips.

  Something like aroused hope and dread had my neck burning and my voice shaking as I pulled away from his intoxicating kiss. “I thought you were going out last night to find somebody else?”

  “I don’t want anyone else.”

  I . . . who . . . when . . . WHAT?

  I needed to think.

  I needed a minute.

  I needed an ice-bath.

  “This is neither the time nor the place, Sean,” I said weakly, right before he smashed his mouth to mine, his tongue sliding past the seam of my lips to taste me. He groaned and the noise did something, turned me into a pliant pile of mush rather than an anxious kleptomaniac mess.

  His hands cupped my cheeks as he turned us and my back hit the wall. He ground his erection into my hip, then lifted one of my legs to wrap around his waist so he could press into my softness.

  A second later he was fiddling with the button on my jeans and sliding his hand inside my knickers. I moaned when he moved two fingers along my slickness, finding me ready.

  I almost let him do it, but the knowledge of Ronan and Annie and everyone else waiting at the table had me channeling all my strength and pushing him away.

  “No,” I told him breathlessly. “We can’t do this here.”

  Sean exhaled heavily, his breathing agitated. “Is this because of that Tom prick? Because he clearly wants to fuck you.”

  “What?” I exclaimed. “No. God, no. Tom is like a cousin to me. You’re being a lunatic.”

  The way he lifted one eyebrow said he didn’t believe me.

  I laughed my frustration at the ridiculousness of the situation. “What’s going on with you? What are we doing here?”

  “Have I been too subtle?” He pressed his erection against me again. “Fine. Let me be clear: Lucy Fitzpatrick, lovely Lucy, I want you.”

  I let my head hit the wall behind me as I evaded his kiss, needing him to see he was acting crazy. We absolutely could not have sex in the bathroom. If we had sex in the bathroom, Ronan would find out and the shit would hit the fan.

  My voice was unsteady as I tried to think and speak at the same time. “I thought things were clear between us. You said Ronan would never find out. But then I arrive at the photo shoot and you start acting up, trying to rile my brother. It’s so stupid and pointless when you both could easily just get along.”

  Sean’s tone was disdainful. “Ronan and I will never get along.”

  I held him away, wanting to see his face as I challenged, “Why not?”

  Now his brow scrunched up and he seemed conflicted. “Because . . .” he started, then paused as though trying to find the right words. “Because everything he wants just falls right into his lap. He never even has to try and people think the sun shines out of his arse. Maybe he deserves a little animosity every once in a while.”

  “And you’re the one to provide it, are you?”

  Sean released me and, as much as was possible in the confined space, took a step back. “I don’t see why not.”

  I frowned. “Everything doesn’t just fall into his lap. He gets things because he works hard for them. And people think highly of him because he’s a good person and treats them with respect. Why do you have such a problem with that?”

  Sean raked his hands through his hair in agitation, ruffling the short blond strands. “Because I work just as hard, but nobody ever pats me on the back or tells me how bloody wonderful I am.”

  I stared at him, suddenly seeing something I hadn’t before. I tried to gentle my voice. “Hard work is one thing, Sean, but you have to be kind to people, too. You could work your fingers to the bone, but if you go around flipping everybody off while you’re doing it they’re never going to respect
you.”

  His glare turned into a tired frown and he turned his head to the side as he muttered, “God, what am I even doing here?”

  I let out a breath and took his hand, sliding my fingers between his. “You’re having dinner with a bunch of cool people. Why not try enjoying their company?” He grimaced at me and I stopped for a second as an idea formed, adding, “Why not try enjoying my company?”

  “I always enjoy your company,” Sean muttered automatically, his eyes softening as they skated over my face.

  I swallowed a building lump in my throat and suggested, “How about we go back outside and try something?”

  His look was cautious. “Like what?”

  “When we rejoin the others, you have to chat with Ronan in a polite and friendly manner and you have to give him at least one compliment.”

  Sean stared at me as though I’d turned into a raving lunatic and eventually shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “What have you got to lose?”

  “My self-respect,” he scoffed.

  “Oh, come on. Now you’re just being melodramatic.” I paused and squeezed his hand. “Please? Do it for me, and I promise you’ll feel better for it. Be kind to my brother and watch the difference in how he treats you, how everyone treats you.”

  Sean grunted and asked, “What if I don’t know how to be kind?”

  “You’re kind to me. And you were kind to those dogs, even Hampton, who basically sexually harassed your leg only seconds after meeting you.”

  His eyes flickered between mine and I saw he was fighting a smile. Then his gaze lowered to my lips. “Fine,” he conceded. “But if this turns out to be a disaster it’s on your head, little pixie.”

  I smiled at the reluctant affection in his voice. “Everything will be better. I promise you.”

  I ignored the small voice that told me making peace between Sean and Ronan wasn’t just for altruistic reasons. If Sean and Ronan didn’t hate each other, then perhaps . . .

  His eyes narrowed on me as he continued staring at my mouth. “I want something in return.”

  From the way he was looking at my mouth I wouldn’t need three guesses. “A blow job?”

  “No. I want you to come over tonight.”

  “For a blow job?” I teased.

  “No.” His gaze lifted to mine, the earnest intensity made my breath catch. He shook his head slowly. “No expectations. No lessons. Just . . . come over and spend the night. Be with me.” And then he quietly added, almost like an afterthought, “Let me feel your warmth.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  @THEBryanLeech ABCDS

  @SeanCassinova to @THEBryanLeech ABCDS?

  @THEBryanLeech to @SeanCassinova Always Be Calmly Drinking Scotch #WordsToLiveBy

  @SeanCassinova to @THEBryanLeech UYCBIAW… TDB

  @THEBryanLeech to @SeanCassinova UYCBIAW TDB?

  @SeanCassinova to @THEBryanLeech Unless You Can Be Inside A Woman… Then Do Both #WordsILiveBy

  *Sean*

  I didn’t know what I was doing.

  Requests, things I wanted, words I would never speak or allow myself to think were now uncontainable.

  It’s the sex, I reiterated. Again. I’d used this explanation, now on repeat, as a simple justification for the complex cacophony of my mind.

  “Be with you?” Her long, dark lashes fluttered, beating like distressed butterfly wings against warming pink cheeks.

  I licked my lips, tasting her there. “Yes.”

  She stared at me, confused. I was also confused. And oddly frightened.

  Because it wasn’t the sex.

  Several seconds ticked on as we studied each other in breathless silence. She found her voice before I did. “What does that—”

  “Lucy?” Annie’s voice was paired with a soft knock on the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”

  I opened my mouth to whisper a clarification to the question Lucy hadn’t quite posed, because I was compelled to tell her it wasn’t the sex. We didn’t have to have sex. We could just . . . talk. Or play cards. Or touch. Or look at each other from across the room.

  We could merely be together.

  But she covered my mouth with her hand. Her features arrested with unmistakable panic.

  “Yes. I’m fine! I just . . . started my period is all. Made a mess in my jeans, like a crime scene.” Lucy hollered in response then grimaced. She immediately mouthed I’m sorry to me. Her cheeks flushed red.

  I lifted an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, ducking her head with obvious embarrassment. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh.

  Issuing me a quelling look, Lucy released me and skittered out of the stall, whispering, “Stay here and count to three hundred.”

  “Oh! Do you need anything?” Annie’s voice was less muffled and I surmised she’d opened the bathroom door.

  “Ah, no. Have it all sorted now. Thank God Tom has these nice absorbent napkins instead of those troublesome hand driers. Although I feel like I’m wearing a nappy. They’re bad for the environment, so I should talk to him about replacing the napkins. Maybe make a few available for emergencies . . .”

  Lucy’s anxiety-riddled chatter faded as the bathroom door clicked shut.

  I released an audible exhale. My heart was beating as though it might leap from my chest. I needed to catch my breath. Neither had anything to do with being caught.

  What the fuck were you doing?

  It was the sex. She’s phenomenal in bed. You’ve never had that before. It was just sex.

  I nodded, reiterating the logic of my justification for the uncharacteristic behavior. If I repeated it enough, perhaps I would believe it.

  I didn’t count to three hundred as instructed. I counted to one hundred and twenty-three, then realized what I was doing.

  “You’re mad, Sean,” I muttered, shaking myself and promptly leaving the ladies’ room. I checked the cufflinks on my dress shirt—a nervous habit—and strolled back to the table, eyeing the assortment of eejits gathered.

  Tom, as an example, was a complete eejit. I hated the way he looked at Lucy, like she might be delicious. I no more believed he saw her as a cousin than I did.

  Of course, Ronan was an ape.

  Bryan Leech, however, was something else. Unfortunately, he’d drunk the Ronan Fitzpatrick Kool-Aid, but he was far too subversive to be a total moron. He was the only man in Union history to be suspended three times in a season and still retain his contract for the next year. He was a sneak, but not quite an eejit.

  Annie, Ronan’s fiancée, must’ve been an eejit on some level. Why else would she sacrifice all that brilliance and lusciousness to an ape?

  And then there was Lucy . . .

  I reclaimed my seat next to her. She was in the middle of a conversation with fuckwit Tom. He was talking, likely about himself or his little restaurant.

  “Sean.” Bryan tapped on the table, drawing my attention to him. “Are you headed back to Barcelona after this?”

  I shook my head, but before I could answer, Ronan cut in, “Nah, he was in Dublin before this. He tried to take my seat out of Spain.”

  I shifted in my chair, clenching my jaw to keep my acerbic remark to myself. I had to swallow a gulp of water before I could respond. “Was it a pleasant flight?”

  Ronan narrowed his eyes on me, clearly distrustful of the benign direction of my comment.

  Our team captain leaned back from the table and scratched his jaw, examining me. “Once you were booted, it was pleasant.”

  I nodded, having nothing else to say since I couldn’t say anything nasty. I felt Lucy’s eyes on me as I cut into my steak, chewed it, swallowed, and drank another gulp of water.

  “Thank you for that, by the way.” Annie joined the conversation. “Thank you for giving up your seat.”

  “He didn’t give it up.” Ronan scowled at his fiancée. “They made him leave.”

  “Ronan,” the pretty brunette warned.

  “What? It’s the truth.” The a
pe shrugged.

  Annie sighed.

  Lucy cleared her throat.

  Bryan smirked. “I’ve been tossed off a flight or two myself over the years. Worth it, though. There’s a lot to be said for joining the mile-high club.”

  “Bryan.” Ronan frowned, eyes going pointedly to his sister like he didn’t want Bryan defiling her innocent ears. I resisted the urge to snicker. She’d already been thoroughly defiled, and would continue to be if I had my way.

  I took another bite of my steak, chewed, swallowed, and wracked my brain for a serviceable compliment so I could cross it off my list and end this farce of a dinner. Perhaps something like:

  Your enunciation is exceptional for a primate.

  Kudos to you for not flinging your excrement at the dinner table.

  You smell not terrible.

  Instead, I glanced at Lucy and said, “You have an excellent memory, Ronan.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” he challenged, eyes narrowing further.

  “Just that.” I shrugged. “Your recollection of our flight seating mishap is impeccable.”

  “Well, it was just a week ago,” came his flat reply. “I might be older than you by two months, but I’m not long in the tooth just yet.”

  “A week ago?” Lucy held my gaze for two beats, a whisper of a smile curving her sweet lips. I lifted my eyebrows subtly, hoping she’d interpret the meaning of the small gesture.

  She squinted at me, admirably suppressing her grin, then turned her attention to Annie. “Why were you in Spain?”

  I released a silent, relieved exhale, and did not follow the ensuing conversation.

  The compliment had been paid. Now it was her turn.

  ***

  I left first, begging off after the main course. Neither Tom nor Ronan protested my departure, but Annie and Lucy encouraged me to stay, likely because I was playing so nicely.

  Playing nice only required that I say nothing, but was essential if I didn’t want to give Lucy any excuse to miss our rendezvous. I’d also been playing nice because, much to my delighted surprise, it aggravated Ronan to no end.