Play With Me

by Piper Shelly

  “You can’t be serious.” What was it with him and warm-up all the time? I was heated enough when we left my street.

  His eyebrow arched up. “What are you willing to bet on it?”

  Shit. He was serious. Ready to slump back and bawl, I clamped on my teeth instead and gathered what little dignity I had left then sat up. I slipped out of my trainers and hid them with Ryan’s close to the rocks and out of temptation from by-passers.

  If I thought running to the beach was exhausting, then I sure didn’t know what it was like to jog barefoot in the sand. The muscles in my calves took on a burn that became unbearable after only a couple hundred meters.

  I shot him a look filled with loathing as I struggled to keep pace with him. He smiled, making me gnash my teeth.

  “Do your parents know about this sadistic side of yours?”

  He playfully tugged at my ponytail. “What can I say? You bring out my best side.”

  “Ah, great. I feel so special now.” Each step became increasingly heavier as if my limbs were weighed down with stones. “How far are we going?”

  “I never ran this route before, but I guess it’s about a half-mile. You know the houses at Misty Beach?”

  I nodded. Everyone knew them. It was place for the rich and wealthy. “Your parents own a house down there?”

  “Yep.”

  I wasn’t surprised. After seeing the palace he lived in last night, it was accepted the Hunter’s would have another beach house here. But funny, after the last two days, Ryan didn’t seem at like with the insufferable rich snob I thought him to be whenever I passed him in the school corridors. He was quite likable. Nice, even.

  Just not right now. I scowled. He made me eat sand when I didn’t think I could drag myself another couple of steps. The fine sand sunk under my feet and it felt like running on pudding. Every exposed square inch of me glistened with sweat, my drenched top clung to my skin.

  When Misty Beach came into view, his fingers curled around my upper arm, and he was already dragging me. I stumbled along next to him, crying for water. “I swear I’m going to drink up the ocean.”

  “Chin up, Matthews. We’re almost there.” So said the king’s most trusted torturer.

  He led me to the prettiest house at this strip of the beach. Painted in white, it had a roundabout wooden porch with nice rattan furniture and even a porch swing. From the pot-plant on the broad railing, he fetched a set of keys and let us inside.

  Average size, the bungalow had a kitchen and maybe two or three bedrooms in the back. We entered into a cozy sitting room, with comfy couches, flat screen TV, and an amazingly wide bookshelf. Someone really liked to read out here.

  Ryan left me leaning against the wall and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. He tossed one at me.

  Ah, liquid heaven. Water had never tasted this good.

  My pulse stayed in higher spheres for a little longer, but I found I could talk without gasping for air like a dying fish. “So, great tormentor, why did we run on the beach? Was it just for your personal pleasure to see me suffer?”

  He rolled his eyes with a half-smile that not even Tony could beat. “Why do you think so badly of me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I lost my lungs somewhere on the way? Or because my legs are on fire?” I walked over to the couch and leaned my butt against the backrest, arms folded over my chest.

  “Oh, come on now. We jogged over two miles and you’re still standing. That’s great. And running in the sand will strengthen your legs a lot better than the pavement. Since we only run on grass at soccer, you need to get used to the additional…”

  “Torture?” I helped him out when he paused to search for the right word.

  “Exactly.” He pushed aside my damp bangs with a finger, took my empty bottle, and dumped both with a high toss in the trash can just outside the kitchen door.

  I fixed my ponytail then swept my forearm across my brows. Sweaty as my arm was, it didn’t help much.

  The sound of footsteps clinking on the porch caught our attention. For a reason that escaped me, we both stiffened.

  The shock on Ryan’s face as he glanced first at the door then at me prickled my skin into goose-bumps. Without warning, he rushed toward me, knocking me over the backrest of the couch. Together we rolled to the floor. Keys rattled in the lock as I landed on him, and a rush of air exploded out of his lungs.

  “Who is it?” I hissed, glaring down at his face. In this awkward position, I couldn’t help but notice the beautiful color his eyes were. Like the tiger’s eye my mother kept in her collection of gemstones.

  “Can only be my mom.” Using a little pressure to my hip, he steered me closer to the couch as he rolled me off him, then he clapped his hand over my mouth. Duh, as if I was going to scream.

  My heart pounded like that of a criminal during a bank robbery as we listened to Mrs. Hunter walk into the room and put something heavy on the floor. Sounded like boxes. She carried one after the other into the kitchen.

  “She’s stocking the fridge,” Ryan murmured with his mouth to my ear.

  Great. Who would pack a fridge at six in the morning? But then she probably wanted it done before she went to work. When she went for the third round, I pulled Ryan’s hand off my mouth and said in a fierce whisper, “Why are we hiding here?”

  “My parents don’t like me bringing random girls to this place. Unless you want to be introduced as my girlfriend, I suggest you stay down.”

  Agreed. But I scowled at him from the half-inch space between us, wondering how, in only twenty-four hours, I could land in such an intimate position with Hunter—twice.

  A breath of relief whizzed out of me when his mother finally left the house and the door locked. A minute passed before Ryan pushed to his feet. He held his hand out for me, but I didn’t move a limb.

  “You sure your dad isn’t on his way, too?” Heavy cynicism laced my voice.

  “Yes, I’m sure. He never comes here during the week.” He grabbed my hand and tugged. “Get up.”

  I let him help me stand. “Next time you feel the need to knock me over, I’d appreciate a little warning first.”

  “Gotcha!” He went to the rear of the house and came back with a towel that he wiped over his face then tossed it at me.

  “Ew.” He didn’t really expect me to use the same towel he already marked with his sweat? “I don’t know how a little running together got us to that level of intimacy.” But since he ignored my annoyed look and walked outside, I figured I just had to overcome that part of me and wiped my sweating body with it. Rubbing my neck, I followed Ryan onto the porch and found him lounging on the swing.

  Drenched in my sweat, I tossed the towel deadly aim at his face. But he caught it. “Let’s go back,” I muttered.

  “Are we in a hurry, Matthews?”

  I refused to take a seat anywhere on this porch but leaned my shoulder against the post next to the wooden steps that led down to the beach. “Not really. But I won’t stay in a place where I have to sign a marriage license to be welcome.”

  “She won’t come back.”

  “I don’t care.” Wow, that was a growl. I didn’t know I could actually sound this pissed.

  “Fair enough.” He sighed and rose from the swing. “Let me just get the ball, then we can go.”

  “The ball?”

  But he was already gone and came out little later with a backpack that had an ominous round swell. He stuffed the towel and another bottle of water into it then strapped it over his shoulders. The keys he dumped back into the potted plant.

  Fortunately, he didn’t make me run again. We strolled along the beach, and I welcomed the cool rush of water around my ankles.

  Safe out of sight from his house, I finally relaxed. “Why did you bring the ball?”

  “You need to practice kicking and catching. The beach is perfect for that.”

  Okay, that didn’t sound too bad. But I underestimated Hunter. What he truly meant I found o
ut when we reached the place where we’d hidden our shoes.

  CHAPTER

  8

  I WIPED THE sand off my soles and slipped into my trainers. Ryan took a position about thirty feet away from me. The ball in the sand, his right foot on top, he shouted, “I want you to stop the ball.”

  “Ah, okay. Just—” Whoosh, the ball raced at me. I let out a small shriek, but caught the ball to my chest.

  He looked at me as if I forgot to put on clothes this morning. “This is soccer. You’re not supposed to use your hands.”

  How should I know what he wanted from me when he tried to shoot me with a soccer ball?

  “Kick it back.”

  I did as he said, dispersing a great deal more sand than he’d done when he kicked. Ryan shot again. Same speed, same aim. Right at my chest. I caught it.

  “No hands, Matthews!”

  Okay, this was really getting on my nerves. I sent it flying back to him.

  He kicked.

  This time I stepped to the side and let the ball zoom past me.

  “What was that?” Disbelief marred his face as he came toward me.

  “You said no hands. Want me to catch it with my teeth or what?”

  He laughed. “I strongly suggest you don’t do that. During a game you will have to stop the ball. But you’re not allowed to use your hands. So you use your body to block it. Your shoulders, or head, but mostly your chest.”

  “Aha. There’s only one problem with that.” I cupped my boobs with both hands. “I’ve got these!”

  Struck silent, his gaze traveled from my eyes downward and didn’t return. The spark in his eyes almost scared me. Like I was Snow White and he was the…Hunter. In fact, I didn’t want to even imagine what thoughts crossed his mind right then. I sapped my fingers between our faces. “Eyes up here.”

  He obeyed. Reluctantly. The sliver of an impish smile crept to his lips.

  “Enough training for one morning.” I could barely keep my voice even. “I want to be back before my mom finds out I’m gone.”

  He agreed, and I managed to convince him that we only run half the way then walk the rest. I didn’t want to break down in front of my house. But when we arrived, I faced the next hurdle. Dad was already gone to work, but Mom was in the kitchen, and there was no way to sneak inside without her noticing.

  “I’m so screwed,” I whined, hiding behind a tree on the other side of the street.

  Ryan cupped my chin with an unexpected tender hand and made me look at his face. “Do you always give up that quickly?”

  “Apparently, you don’t,” I muttered with clipped annoyance for his lack of understanding of my misery. “So what do you suggest?”

  “We get you inside the same way we got you out.”

  “The window?”

  “Exactly.” His head slightly angled, he lifted his brows with an utmost of encouragement.

  “Tony has been climbing in and out there for years. But I don’t see how I can do it.”

  “Mitchell has been climbing into your room?”

  “Yes. But I need a ladder to get onto the roof of the shed. And as far as I know, we don’t have a ladder.” My shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why does he climb through your window?” The question was a snarl, and his brows furrowed.

  “Can we please stay focused? I’m grounded and I need to break into my own house.”

  He glared at me. Then with his jaw tight, he nodded. “All right. Come on.” He pulled at my top and hauled me across the street. I could only hope that my mom wasn’t peeking out the window.

  As we rounded the house and I could hide beside the shed, I felt a little safer. Still, there was this problem with getting on top of it.

  Ryan scanned the tree. “I believe Mitchell climbs up there to get onto the roof?”

  “Um, yes. But you aren’t asking me to climb a tree now, are you?”

  He gave a light snort. Then he tested the edge of the shed’s roof by jumping and hanging on to it. It was solid. “Come here, Matthews,” he ordered as he planted himself in a wide stance with his back to the shed’s door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you a lift.” He laced his fingers in front of his hips. Obviously, I should step in there.

  “No way.”

  “Don’t be a baby. I already proved I can carry you, remember? Twice.”

  He was right. Still, that didn’t take the queasy feeling out of my stomach. If at all, the memory increased my flurry. In the end, with my mom downstairs, I figured I had not much of a choice. With a resigned sigh, I stepped toward him and held on to his shoulders while he bent his knees to make it easier for me to place my foot into the hold he provided.

  “Ready?” he teased as we were on eyelevel.

  “Not at all,” I replied a little shaky.

  “See you tomorrow.” Then he shot me up into space. I had no time to think, which might have been a good thing, but just grabbed onto the roof’s edge and hoisted myself over with Ryan’s help.

  From there it was an easy walk to get back into my room. Once my feet were planted on the solid floor, I turned toward him. My knees still wobbly from the adventure and the fear of getting caught, I grimaced. “I don’t think we should do this again.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m dead if my parents catch me.” And it wasn’t really a matter of if but of when.

  “They won’t.”

  “What if?”

  “Matthews, they won’t. Now shut up and get under the shower.”

  Agh, he really didn’t understand my dilemma. I gritted my teeth. “I’m not coming tomorrow. There’s training anyway. I won’t survive two rounds of torture on the same day.”

  “Yeah. Right.” He laughed. “Wednesday. Five o’. Be dressed this time. And, Matthews—don’t make me climb up there and fetch you.”

  Though my body screamed at the torture Ryan had put me through this morning, my mind spun with a strange anticipation. He was going to train with me again. I smiled to myself as I headed for the shower. Damn, I never knew I was that much of a masochist.

  The hot spray of water loosened my burning muscles. I could have spent the whole day in there. Ah heck, being grounded, I didn’t have much else to do anyway, so I enjoyed an extended treat in the shower. When the water finally turned cold on me, I slipped out, wrapped my body into a soft, white towel, and walked back to my room.

  As I opened the door, a shriek escaped me.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Waiting on your merciful return from the bathroom.” Tony grinned from where he lay on my bed.

  I shot a glance over my shoulder, hoping my mom hadn’t heard my scream.

  “Don’t panic, Beth already knows I’m here.”

  “What? Why?” I closed the door and clutched the towel tighter to my chest.

  “I went downstairs to look for you when you weren’t in your room. She actually made me eat breakfast with her.”

  Yeah, I stood quite a while under that shower. Since my mom seemed fine with him being in my room in spite of me being grounded, I relaxed. And soaked in the joy of seeing Tony this morning. He wore my favorite—dark blue jeans, a cobalt blue tee, and an unbuttoned shirt over it. His feet dangled off my bed, bobbing up and down.

  “Did Hunter come to apologize?”

  My brows quirked as his casual tone dragged me out of my staring. “Sorry?”

  “I saw him walk away from your house today. Bit early to come pay you a visit. So did he apologize for crawling into the same bed with you?”

  Only then did I remember that I was in fact royally pissed at Tony. “I don’t see how this is any of your concern. Anyway, it’s early for you to be here, too.” I folded my arms over my chest, but then the towel threatened to slide down with that move. I returned to clutching it.

  “Oh, come on...” He rose from the mattress and came toward me.

&n
bsp; I backed off until the door behind me stopped me dead.

  “I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” He gave that sweet, teasing pout he always did when he tried to make me forgive him whatever he screwed up. His playing with my wet strands of hair worked on my defenses. “To make it up to you I’ll stay with you inside all day, and we can watch some movies.”

  Solitary, just the both of us, like in the past. He almost had me with it. But I decided to stay strong. With a snort, I slipped past him and strode to the closet, fetching a green t-shirt and jeans. Staring at the top for a couple seconds, I put it back. I wouldn’t wear his favorite color today.

  “I brought Indiana Jones,” he cooed and held the DVD collection in front of my face.

  Oh, the bastard. He knew this was my all time favorite. I owned the DVDs too, but he had the director’s cut. I pressed my lips together. A grin still escaped.

  Victory lit up his face. “You go dress, and I’ll set the DVD-player.”

  Faithful to his promise, Tony stayed the entire day. By the time we started on the second movie, I had forgiven him so far that I overcame the foot of distance between us on my bed and snuggled up to him. His arm wrapped around my shoulders brought back the familiar comfort. I wasn’t sure if he noticed when he started winding a wisp of my hair around his finger, but I gloried in it.

  There was just one thing bothering me all this time. I couldn’t stop comparing the feeling with him to the sensation that rode me when Ryan Hunter had rolled with me off the couch and I landed on top of him.

  While now I was completely at ease, I had barely been able to reign in my fluttering heart in Ryan’s tight embrace. How could this happen when I loved only Tony? Since I missed two thirds of part III of Indiana Jones thinking on that question, I decided to drop the thought altogether. After all, Hunter wasn’t a guy worth daydreaming about. Right?

  The teasing smile he wore so well captured my mind once more.

  Tony ruffled my bangs. “What? You still in love with the dude?”

  “Bullshit! I’m not! It’s just training!” The words were out before I could think again as I jerked out of his arm and glared at him.

  He gave me a very uncomfortable stare. “What?”