Playing To Win: The Complete King Brothers Collection (A Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Teagan Kade

  Another surprise. “You’re a senior and you’ve never been to an ABC party?”

  “Any party, to be more precise.”

  “What, are you Moaning Myrtle, holed up in girls’ bathroom all this time?”

  She smiles at that. “I appreciate a man who knows his Harry Potter, but no. Unlike some, I came to one of the best sports academies in America to, you know, play my fucking sport.”

  The cussing takes me further off guard. I’ve got zero idea what to make of her at this stage. “So why now? Why tonight?” I ask.

  “Thought I may as well go to one, tick it off my collegiate bucket list, so to speak.”

  “Dare I ask what else is on this list?”

  “Let’s just say the night is young.” She holds up her glass. “Now, escort me to the kitchen. I need a refill.”

  I’m not used to being bossed around, but I can’t seem to say no, either. It’s that curiosity which has me hooked here. Everything she says, her hand movements and quirky nature, draw me in. She sits up on the counter in the kitchen like she owns the place, keeps the conversation going. I notice bruising on her knees, which probably proves her previous point she likes to be assertive on the court.

  Or bedroom, my head adds.

  I discover she lives off campus with her mother, has a wealthy father she’s not close with. Soon after, she turns the questioning back onto me and I find myself oddly floundering in her presence.

  “Don’t tell me I’m making the mighty Nolan King nervous,” she pouts, placing her wine glass down emptied for the third time. I haven’t checked my watch, but we must have been at this an hour or more now.

  “Put a hockey stick in my hand, ice under my feet, and I’ll be just fine,” I retort.

  “Pad you up like a giant tampon too?”

  I place my hands either side of her thighs on the counter, lean in. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were fucking with me, Linnea Marsden.”

  “Do you want to?”

  I’m confused. “What?”

  “Fuck,” she replies casually, though loud enough for a few nearby eyebrows to be raised.

  I lower my voice, leaning back. “You’re funny.”

  Her expression doesn’t change, those emerald eyes locked on and loaded. “I’m quite serious. I want to have sex. With you,” she adds.

  I swallow. “What, here?” It’s the first thing I think to say in lieu of something more profound. I’m still trying to get over the shock.

  “I’d prefer somewhere without sticky floors and a puke bucket, so my place? I’ll come first, if you don’t mind.”

  I can barely think straight, but I’m not entirely resistant to the idea. “Ah, sure, I guess.”

  She pushes herself off the counter so we’re standing face to face, leaning in to whisper at my ear. “Don’t worry. I give a great blowjob.”

  I can’t tell if she’s kidding or not.

  My cock hardens in my pants and I know I need to get the hell out of here now before I become a walking erection.

  I barely have time to place my glass down before she’s tugging me through the house. She’s pulled a cell from somewhere in the fake flower dress, texting away rapidly.

  We emerge outside and I’m tugged up to the curb, my heart starting to thump a harder. This is not the turn of events I imagined tonight. This is not how I roll.

  She holds the cell up to me. “Uber will be here in one minute. Anything you want to ask me now? ’Cause once we get to my place that mouth of yours won’t have time for talking.”

  I can’t help smiling. “Uh… You sure this is what you want?”

  She shifts to stand in front of me. “Let me tell you one thing about me, Nolan King. I know what I want and I go the hell after it, and right now I want you, between my legs. Is that simple enough for you?”

  I nod, can’t even dream up a reply that wouldn’t sound sleazy. I almost feel like I should reply, ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  The Uber arrives, Linnea holding the rear door open. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  I get in, Linnea sliding in beside me and pulling the door closed, the fake flowers crinkling against the leather. “Step on it,” she tells the driver, watching me. “My friend here has somewhere he needs to be.”

  And given the way she’s spreading her legs on the back seat, nothing fake about what I see between them, I know exactly where that is.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LINNEA

  I open my eyes and breathe in, can already feel the welcome mass of a male body beside me in bed.

  I smile because yes, it’s going to be a beautiful day.

  I press up onto my elbows. There’s a framed picture of Michael Jordan on the opposite wall from the end of the bed. He’s holding a basketball underarm, smiling back as if to say ‘My man.’

  “Or woman,” I correct, Nolan remaining blissfully asleep while I silently lose my mind.

  I sit up straighter and the sheet falls away from my breasts, warm, morning light cutting across the bed.

  Even a bad boy like Nolan King can sleep like a baby, I muse. That’s not really fair, though. All the King brothers have a reputation, but you don’t tend to hear too much of Nolan’s escapades. Perhaps that’s what drew me to him—the mystique and mystery. I’ve always been obsessed with discovering how things work. Every toy my parents bought me I’d pull apart, much to their chagrin. Magic tricks? I just had to know the secret.

  As for Nolan, seems he knows a few tricks himself given last night. That sensation still lingers between my legs. I smile wider at the memory of him sliding into me, his thick length filling me like never before, hitting places no toy has ever reached. So one rumor, at least, is true.

  I like to come, but the Nolan King experience was something else—something new.

  And boy do I love new.

  I notice a bulge under the sheets and consider waking him with my mouth, but his eyes flicker open, Caribbean blue and so inviting. He sees me and there’s a moment of surprise as he realizes where he is before his face settles and his eyes shift to my breasts, lit hot white by the window light.

  He places an arm behind his head, a dark knot of hair under his arm, bicep ballooning against his ear. I noticed the tattoo last night, but illuminated by day it appears more detailed and intricate. Everything about his body does. The possibilities of exploring it further send a flicker of heat licking its way up my inner thigh.

  “Tell me I’m dreaming,” he says, voice gravelly, a grit to it that sends the flicker further.

  “You’re dreaming,” I reply.

  He gives a light laugh. “In that case, I don’t want to wake up,” he says, eyes dropping again. “Not with a view like that.”

  I look down. “I imagine you’ve seen your share of breasts. They’re not that special.”

  Even as I’m speaking the words, my nipples harden, the warmth of the window light turning them a vibrant, coral pink.

  Nolan sits up to match me, the sheet slipping, his abs accordioning tight. He nods down to where the sheet has turned into a makeshift tent between his legs. “Someone begs to differ.”

  I drag my hair behind my ear. “Why do you guys do that?”

  “What?” he smiles.

  “Talk about your dicks like they’re little human beings.”

  “Little?” he chokes.

  I put a finger up. “Okay, poor choice of words considering your, ah, sizeable friend, but the question remains.”

  Nolan looks to me, shrugging. Fuck me, even his hair is messed up perfectly. The guy’s like a real-deal Ken Doll come to life. “You don’t have a name for your…” His eyebrows jump. “You know?”

  I straighten up prairie dog-like. “My vagina, you mean? Ah, no. I call it ‘my vagina’.”

  We both laugh and I honestly didn’t think it would be this easy. I actually expected to wake up alone, the bedroom door ajar, nothing but the breeze to console me. To find him here and excited is a welcome surprise.

  But what
now? my cursed head interjects.

  I hadn’t planned this far ahead, so I decide to stick to routine. “I usually head out for a run. You want to join or you too wiped from fucking my brains out?”

  He shakes his head, eyes wide and incredulous. I don’t think he’s used to a girl being so forward, but hell, why dance around it? That’s not me. Like I told him, I know what I want and I go get it. I’m not going to wait for life to come to me. It’s too short for that shit.

  “Sure,” he replies. “We talking a jog around the block?”

  “Something like that,” I respond cryptically, dying to know how hard I can push him. You don’t take home a Ferrari and leave it in the garage, right?

  I climb out of bed and make no attempt to hide my nakedness, letting him get a nice eyeful of my ass as I make my way to the closet, sliding it open.

  “Holy shit,” he says from the bed. “Do you own anything else besides Jordan jerseys?”

  I suppose the row of red matching basketball jerseys would look a little odd to the uninitiated. “What can I say, he was the greatest. I get inspired when I wear his number.”

  His eyes drop to the row of shoes on the floor. “And the kicks to match, I see. What is that there, like three grand worth of sneakers?”

  “Five,” I correct. “Excluding the ones boxed up in the attic.”

  “Some might say you’re obsessed.”

  I select a sports bra from the middle shelf of the closet and sling it on, tugging the bottom to get it into place. I don’t have to look his way to know his eyes are wandering like pinballs let loose. I reach back for the matching leggings, tugging them on while he watches—quite unashamedly, it would seem, that tent in the sheets looking more and more like the Washington monument.

  I select a pair of sneakers, and make my way back to the bed, sitting on the edge. “Well, you going to get dressed or you plan on running in your birthday suit? I know a couple of old ladies around here who’d get a real kick out of that.”

  “I didn’t exactly pack for a morning run.”

  I nod over to the chest of drawers by the wall. “Bottom drawer. Go.”

  He gets up and now it’s my turn to take in the sights, and boy do I like what I see. Those buns alone… Who needs a stress ball when you’ve got those things to squeeze all day?

  He crouches and opens the drawer. “You got a thirteen-year-old living here as well?”

  I laugh because it’s true. “Let’s just say I was a bit of a tomboy growing up, but they’ll fit.”

  He takes out a pair of basketball shorts and a white Space Jam tee, stretching it out. “You’re serious?”

  “It’s that or buck naked, buddy. Suits me fine either way. I don’t mind sharing.”

  He shakes his head and stands, getting the shorts on okay but the shirt’s a different matter. It’s short by a good inch or two, looks more like a crop top someone’s spray-painted onto his upper body.

  I can’t help laughing. “All right then. Shall we?”

  He reaches across to open the bedroom door. “After you, MJ.”

  It’s still crisp outside, Nolan rubbing his hands together to keep warm. “So, where are we headed?”

  I place my hands on my hips and turn towards the hill overlooking Crestfall. “Quick summit run, what do you say?”

  He follows my eyes, matching my stance and looking god damn adorable in that shirt. “Mount Doom?” he says, using the hill’s more affectionate moniker for those poor souls who make the climb frequently. “It’s been a while.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I trill, and set off at a brisk pace, Nolan falling in beside me with surprisingly good form.

  There’s a solid fifteen minutes of flat before we hit the base of the mountain and the start of the summit trail. I use the time to probe a bit deeper into the mind of my newfound fixation. “What are your plans after graduation?” I ask. “I bet you’re dying to get out of here, go play in the NHL, maybe jump the border and drown yourself in maple syrup.”

  He laughs back. “I bet you’d love that.”

  “I wouldn’t be opposed, but seriously, what are you going to do?”

  He looks sideways to check the intersection before we cross. “I’ve had a few strong offers, don’t really mind where I end up.”

  “As long as it’s not Arizona,” I add, trying to remember what the worst NHL team is.

  He gives a stunted laugh. “Not exactly a state known for its icy conditions. What about you? What are you planning besides world domination?”

  I notice our running has synchronized, footfalls sounding together on the pavement. “It’s the WNBA for me, hopefully the Olympic team in three years, one or two championship wins, All-Star selection…”

  Nolan can’t stop smiling. “You really don’t do things by halves, do you?”

  “Never say never, because limits, like gears, are often just an illusion.”

  Nolan recognizes the quote. “Now you’re quoting Jordan at me? Come on. Where was your mother, by the way? Didn’t you say you lived with her?”

  “Girls weekend in Palm Springs with her old drinking pals. She flies back tomorrow.”

  “So you do come from money?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Your father, what does he do?”

  I try to hide the way the words twist at my expression, the sudden tension flooding into me. “Like you said, world domination. He’s a terrible person.”

  Nolan’s eyebrows knot. He licks his lips. “That’s a bit critical, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t know him. Trust me.”

  “I suppose I don’t exactly have the father of the year either, but there was a certain sense of security growing up, at least when my mother was around.”

  “How so?” I ask, curious.

  Nolan’s thrown off guard. I doubt he expected such a deep conversation at six in the morning, probably thought he’d be balls deep by now, not sweating up a different kind of storm.

  “I don’t know,” he replies, huffing. “I suppose they had a strong relationship, marriage, whatever. There was security in that, for all of us. When she passed…” He trails off, looks distant.

  “So commitment is important to you.”

  “It is.”

  “Explains a lot.”

  “Does it?”

  I nod in front of us, “That’s the trailhead. You sure you’re up for this?” I can tell by his breathing there’s the slightest hint of struggle already. Shuttle runs on the ice are one thing, but distance running in the open air is quite another.

  “Let’s do it,” he replies.

  I nod once and set off. I don’t hold back. It’s twenty minutes to the top at full pace and I intend to make every one of them count. Who said you can’t make a King sweat?

  I take the steps fast, two at a time where I can, concentrating on my breathing and that wonderful feeling of freedom running, true running, offers. The world is waking up but you’re tackling it full on, unafraid.

  Screw it.

  I double my pace. I know I’m pushing myself to the limit but I can’t press down that competitive streak in myself.

  I take a tight bend and power upwards, conscious of Nolan starting to fall behind.

  “No time for birdwatching!” I shout back. “Onwards, ho!”

  That jolts him into action. Before long he’s clipping at my heels—sounds half dead, true, but he’s keeping up all the same.

  My calves are burning and I’m pretty sure I’m going to feel this for days, but I push harder.

  “Wait up…one second.”

  I look back, surprised to see Nolan bent over with his hand up.

  “You good?”

  “I just need…a moment.”

  “Like hell,” I laugh. “Let’s go.”

  I start off and I hear a pained grunt as he starts to pick up pace again.

  “You’re killing me,” he shouts.

  “Push through it,” I yell back, surprisingly euphoric as we cres
t the final bend. It’s a brutal slog from here to the top. I engage overdrive and grit my teeth, determined to beat my PB.

  I sense Nolan slipping again, about to throw in the towel. “Don’t you dare fucking quit on me, Nolan King!” I shout.

  When we finally come to the flat of the summit, Nolan stumbles past me and collapses to the ground, rolling onto his back with his knees bent and hands holding his head, chest lifting and falling rapidly.

  I’m breathing hard myself, step over him so he’s between my legs. I look down. “Nice job.”

  “Jesus, you’re too much,” he pants.

  “Funny. I hear that a lot.”

  It’s true. Most guys are intimidated by me. I don’t hold back, and it shows, but maybe I did go too far this morning trying to prove what? I’m a badass? I can break him?

  I want to keep seeing him, but if I keep up this level of aggression, I might just push him away. I need to hold back if I want this.

  Ease up, I warn myself. If that’s even possible.

  It’s a quieter, far slower descent. I can tell Nolan’s in pain but doing his best not to let it show.

  I expect him to make a quick getaway when we get back to my place, which is why I’m doubly surprised when he asks me out to dinner before we’ve reached the front door.

  “You sure?” I ask. “You might need medical attention first.”

  “I’m sure.” He smiles.

  I unlock the door and do my best to hide my excitement. I don’t get like this—all giddy and girly, but hell, I’m up for it. “It’s a date then.”

  I let him inside to gather his things and leave, can’t resist a quick slap of that beautiful ass before he’s out the door. “Eight,” I remind him. “I’m a sucker for punctuality. It’s the soul of business, as my father would say.”

  Nolan stops on the bottom step, looking up to me. “Is that what this is, business?”

  And once more I’m reminded of the pleasure both received and given last night, the many curious ways we explored one another. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

  I close the door and press up against the back of it, laughing to myself and, for the first time in a long time, genuinely having no idea what the hell is going to happen.