by Andrews, Amy
These women. These beautiful gazelles rocking pristine Sydney Smoke jerseys and designer jeans and salon-gorgeous hair didn’t seem to find it funny as their gazes zeroed in on the T-shirt.
Why hadn’t she put some more thought into it? The only bother she’d gone to was to wash and straighten her hair. Christ, she hadn’t even put makeup on.
“This is Juliet,” Eve said after she’d run through everyone’s names. “A friend of Ryder’s.”
There was an almost imperceptible collective nod. As if looking like a yobbo was par for the course for Ryder’s friends. Jesus, just how many women had he invited to the box?
Something hot and unwelcome sliced into her chest and she pushed it aside. She had more pressing things to worry about at the moment. Like convincing these beautiful WAGs she wasn’t a redneck strip-a-gram that had been sent to the wrong corporate box.
Then one of them—Matilda?—said, “I freaking love that T-shirt. I want one. Where did you get it?”
A pregnant woman said, “I want one, too,” followed by a redhead with freckles who said, “And me.”
A woman with caramel curls picked up a glass of bubbles and carried it over to where Juliet was standing near the door like a statue. She smiled and said, “Champagne?” as she offered it.
Before long she’d been coaxed inside and the women were being nice and welcoming, just as Ryder had said. None of them asked any personal questions—just the usual surface chitchat—but Juliet figured that would come. In the meantime, it was interesting to find out who each of the women was involved with.
Juliet was embarrassed to not know any of the names. “I’m sorry…I don’t really know football at all.”
“It’s okay,” Em with the caramel curls said. “I knew squat before I got involved with Linc.”
“She’s right,” the redhead dismissed. “It’s absolutely fine.”
“Says the woman who knows everything there possibly is to know about the sport.” Harper, the pregnant woman, winked at Juliet. “Her father is Griffin King. She was attending rugby games in utero.”
There was a sudden awkward silence, which Juliet didn’t understand, before Harper said, “Shit, Val…I’m sorry.”
Val shook her head and smiled. “It’s fine.” Then she turned to Juliet and said, “We can teach you the ropes.”
Juliet was curious as to what that little byplay meant but suddenly she remembered something Ryder had told her the first night they’d walked down from the headland. “Oh, you’re the one who gave Ryder the dog.”
“Yes.” Val smiled. “He was reluctant, but I’ve never met a man who needs a dog more than Ryder.”
“Wait.” Matilda slid her hand onto Juliet’s arm. “You’re the puppy preschool woman?”
Val seemed confused by the statement, but Harper turned a speculative gaze on her and said, “Interesting.”
“Very,” Em added, renewed interest in her eyes.
Juliet looked from one to the other to the other. “What?”
“So you’ve known Ryder for only a few days?” Matilda said.
“Well…yes. Since Monday to be precise.”
“Interesting,” Harper said again.
Em nodded. “Very.”
Juliet looked from one to the other. “Why is that interesting?”
Val’s frown disappeared as it obviously became clear to her. “Because Ryder’s invited quite a few women in here over the last six years.”
Juliet gave a half laugh. “Yeah, I kinda got that already.”
Val flicked a strand of her gorgeous red hair off her shoulder. “But they’re always women he’s been dating for a while.”
“Never,” Matilda said, her voice low and conspiratorial, “on such a short acquaintance.”
“Oh, I see.” She looked around the little circle as they openly speculated about her. “But we’re just…” What? Using each other for sex? Fuck buddies? Neither of which had happened yet. “It’s not really like that,” she clarified. “I’m going to Italy to live in two months’ time. We’re not a…thing.”
“Oh.” Val seemed disappointed and the other women’s faces went from speculative to surprised to more neutral and measured.
“Italy,” Harper said, recovering first. “That sounds fascinating. Where are you going?”
Half an hour later, with the stadium almost full and the game due to start, the women were lined up along the front of the glass box. Harper and Em were standing on either side of Juliet, pointing things out.
“There’s Griff now.” Em tipped her chin at the group of people coming from the concrete tunnel that led out from the belly of the stadium. They headed toward some bench chairs about halfway down the sideline.
“Who’s that?” A boy who looked to be maybe fourteen or fifteen with Down syndrome was sitting with the group on the sideline.
“That’s Liam,” Harper supplied. “Eve’s son. I think apart from Valerie, he’s probably the Smoke’s biggest fan. He does water boy duties at all the home games.”
“I bet he loves that,” Juliet said.
“Oh yes.” Harper grinned. “It makes me so proud how great the guys are with him.”
The conversation drifted to player and game stats next, not much of which Juliet understood. Em must have seen her glazed look and took pity on her.
“I know it can be really overwhelming to start with. I bet you don’t even know what a ruck or a maul is, right?”
Juliet glanced at her T-shirt. She didn’t have a clue. “I’m afraid not.”
“That’s okay, it’s an acquired taste,” Em admitted. “I’m still wrapping my head around it.”
“Yes.” Harper nodded. “Don’t feel like you have to pretend enjoyment if you’d rather stick a needle in your eye.”
Juliet laughed. “It’s not that…I’m sure I will. I just don’t—” She paused, not wanting to insult any of the women who were here supporting their partners in careers that were obviously as important to them as to the players themselves. She lowered her voice. “Get what all the fuss is about, you know?”
“With rugby?” Harper asked.
“With any sport really, but yes.”
Em smiled. “Just wait.”
“They’re coming on,” Val announced, and everyone’s heads swivelled to the front as two groups of men ran out single file from the concrete tunnel.
Juliet was surprised at the thrum of anticipation and the buzz in her pulse. She hadn’t really been looking forward to the game but the WAGs’ enthusiasm had infected her a little. She eagerly sought Ryder out amongst the two teams of men, zeroing in on him with no difficulty at all.
It was as if he had some kind of homing beacon attached to his seriously delectable ass. She’d seen him in his rugby clothes a few times now. The snug-fitting jersey he wore tonight was pretty much the same, except it was in their official colours of blue and silver—a male version of what the WAGs were wearing. But his shorts were different.
They were short.
And they didn’t cling from static this time but from lack of excess material. They fit him like a glove, cupping him in all the right places.
There’d be no hiding an erection in those things.
But it was more than what he wore and how he wore it. He was so pumped, jumping up and down on the spot, showing off the taut, lean muscles in his quads and calves, so different to the bulkiness of a lot of the other players. He bristled with energy, shaking out his arms, flicking his fingers.
Flicking off invisible globules of testosterone so powerful she could feel their pull all the way up here.
He dropped his head from side to side to work his traps, bending at the waist right in front of the box to execute a perfect hamstring stretch.
Ooh la freaking la.
“Juliet.”
Muscles behind Juliet’s belly button softened into marshmallow. She’d never experienced a hot flush before, but she was well and truly in the grip of one now.
“Juliet?”
Ryder pulled out of the stretch and lifted one leg up behind him, catching it at the ankle as he worked his quad. She’d felt that quad tighten on Wednesday morning, clenching under her palm as she’d sucked him deep.
“Juliet?”
Juliet half turned her head, realising vaguely that Em had been trying to get her attention. “Hmm?” she said, pretending to listen but refusing to drag her eyes off the field as Ryder stretched out his other quad, maintaining perfect balance.
Oh my, oh my, oh my.
Harper laughed. “Leave her, Em. Can’t you see she’s having a lady moment?”
Ryder jogged away, out of her line of sight, snapping Juliet out of her trance and bringing her back to what was happening in the box. “Sorry,” she apologised, turning her full attention to Harper and Em, who were smiling at her knowingly.
Em raised an eyebrow. “See what all the fuss is about now, huh?”
Juliet blinked. “Oh yeah.” She saw.
Ryder really should have warned her about the perv factor. This shit was better than porn.
Two hours later, the game was over and Juliet was waiting with the others in the reception area of the clubhouse. All the post-match television interviews had been done, and the guys were showering. The Smoke had lost by eight points, so there would be no protracted locker room celebrations tonight.
The mood was subdued amongst the women as they chatted about the implications and what it meant for the next game and all about where that put the Smoke on the ladder. It had been a bruising battle with two of the Smoke players limping off—one with blood streaming down his face—and three from the other side. Val had been furious with a couple of the umpire decisions and still was.
Eve approached, smiling at Juliet who’d been listening to the conversation but didn’t feel like she had a lot to contribute. She introduced her to Liam, who presented her with what looked like a shirt.
“I thought you might like this as a keepsake,” Eve said, pointedly not looking at Juliet’s T-shirt.
It was a silver and blue jersey like the one the WAGs were all wearing. “Oh, yes…thanks.” Juliet smiled at Liam as she took the offering, the fabric cool against her fingers.
She thought it highly unlikely she’d be back here again, but it had a good tight stretch to it. It would cling very nicely, and she smiled to herself knowing that she was going to have fun teasing Ryder with it.
Eve and Liam took their leave and the chatter moved on to what everyone was doing next. “I hope you and Ryder will come to the customary post-game get together at our place?” Matilda said. “It’s just a beer and pizza thing, but we have a great view of the harbour and I know Ryder’s always up for that. It’s just for a few hours.”
“Oh.”
Juliet didn’t know what to say to the offer. She’d enjoyed herself immensely with these women—way more than she’d thought she would. But she sure as hell didn’t want to wait a few hours making small talk over beer and pizzas when she had other plans for Ryder Davis.
And she hoped he felt the same way.
The guys arrived, saving her from having to answer. She was vaguely aware of them all heading to their partners, kissing and embracing, but she only had eyes for Ryder. And he only had eyes for her, striding across the room in his jeans and button-down, a big round belt buckle gleaming beneath the lights, a single-minded focus blazing out from under the brim of his Akubra turning her legs to jelly.
He slowed as he got closer, his gaze dropping to her T-shirt. He laughed and shook his head. “Are those my instructions?”
Juliet grinned. “I think it’s best to be upfront about our expectations.”
Their eyes locked and Juliet’s lungs almost seized at the heat and promise she saw there. He didn’t pull her to him or kiss her in front of everyone, just twined his fingers in hers, raised her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her knuckles. It may have looked chaste, but she felt it whisper against her nipples and slide between her legs.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured.
But a cocky-looking blond guy had other ideas. “Hey,” he said as he slid his arm companionably around Ryder’s shoulders and smiled at her. “I’m Linc and you’re puppy preschool chick, right?”
“She prefers Juliet,” Ryder replied drily before sighing and shaking his head at her. “You told them?”
Juliet smiled at the humour glinting in his fudge brownie eyes. “They asked.”
A few of the other guys had come closer and Juliet was aware they were suddenly the centre of attention. She figured it was a good time to make a statement about the nature of their relationship.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them that you like to dress up as a French maid and have me spank you.”
There was a moment of stunned silence before the whole room cracked up. “I like her,” said a guy she assumed to be Tanner Reid by the position of his hand on Matilda’s ass.
Another guy looked at her T-shirt and said, “I really like her.”
Ryder made a low growling noise in the back of his throat. “Eyes up, Spidey.”
More laughter as a quick round of intros was performed. “You joining us for beer and pizza?” Tanner asked Ryder.
He glanced at her one eyebrow raised. She hoped like hell he was accurately surmising the big fuck no in her gaze.
“Nope, sorry.” He shook off Linc’s arm. “Gotta go.”
He tugged on her hand and Juliet followed him, too horny to be embarrassed by their hasty exit.
“Paddle him one for us,” Bodie called out, hoots of laughter following.
Juliet smiled. Not tonight. She had other plans.
Chapter Seven
Juliet left Ryder to show Tiny some love, quickly showering and throwing her newly-gifted Smoke jersey over her head.
By the time he joined her ten minutes later, the room was lit by the row of pastel fairy lights strung across her window frame and she was sitting semi-propped against the bedhead, her arms by her sides, her legs crossed at the ankles, his Akubra tipped back on her head.
The jersey barely covered the essentials and a strip of three condoms lay on the pillow beside her.
He sucked up all the oxygen as soon as he stepped in the room. He stood at the end of her bed, looking down at her, his pure male physicality drawing her gaze like a moth to flame.
If she hadn’t already been about as wet as was humanly possible for any woman to be, the way his gaze inched up her body from her toes to her face would have done it for sure.
“Fuck. Me.” His breath tumbled out on a ragged whisper. “My hat and that jersey look far better on you than they ever have on me.”
At another time Juliet would debate that with him, but right now she was melting into the bed under his hot stare, his gaze zeroed in on the juncture between her legs that was barely covered by tight jersey fabric.
“Are you wearing any panties?”
“Why don’t you come over here and find out?”
“Oh god.” He groaned. “You’re not, are you?”
Juliet smiled, loving the rough, almost desperate edge to his voice and the way he didn’t seem to be able to drag his eyes away. Very slowly, very deliberately, she uncrossed her ankles and parted her legs a little, the cool bedding an erotic caress against the heated backs of her thighs.
He groaned again, his jaw clenching. Juliet doubted he could see any more from his vantage point than he’d been able to when her legs had been crossed, but he was staring like he could.
The pulse that pounded through her chest set up the same rhythm between her legs, begging to be soothed. It was torture waiting for him to move. She wanted him on her and in her and around her. She parted her legs a little more, loving his swift intake of breath.
“Ryder.”
The desperation in her voice must have broken through his trance. “Just let me…” He pointed to her en suite. “Stay just like that.”
His rough command leadened her limbs, weighting her body t
o the bed, anchoring it in his desire. In her desire. She couldn’t have moved if the house had been on fire.
Noises from the en suite floated out to her—water running, cutting out, running again—but the sounds of her body were louder. The trip in her pulse, the catch in her breath, the buzz between her legs.
The low hum of tension physically holding her body in its shape, preventing it from dissolving into a puddle.
He was shoeless when he reappeared in the doorway, his belt gone, the tab of his jeans popped, a glimpse of chest hair visible through his unbuttoned shirt. He didn’t say anything as he made his way to the end of the bed. He just looked down at her, his gaze travelling up her body, snagging and stopping on the hem of the jersey again.
“Show me your pussy.”
Juliet bit back a moan as his husky request hit like a sledgehammer between her legs. A hot, liquid ooze slickened her already saturated sex.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him as her trembling fingers slid onto the fabric at her hips and slowly gathered it upwards, the hem rising little by little. Couldn’t take her eyes off the flare of his nostrils and the clench of his hands as she exposed herself to him.
“Stop.”
She froze. The hem had just barely exposed her sex to his gaze, but the cool caress of air flowing around her heated centre was a particularly heinous form of torture. He stared at her, at what she’d bared to him, stared long and hard, his mouth parting, his breathing a rough spill in the laden air.
“So pretty,” he muttered.
Juliet suppressed the urge to squirm. To moan. To beg. To arch her back and touch herself.
“Spread your legs.” His voice was deep and dark, the glow in his eyes feral.
This was what he’d looked like on the field tonight. Running the plays. Focused on the job.
Dominant. Decisive. Certain.
Male.
Juliet couldn’t look away from him as she eased her legs farther apart, his heavy stare taking her breath away. Her whole body trembled with need now as she waited for his next move. Slowly, his hands lifted to the open flaps of his shirt and he shrugged out of it.