Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (23 page)

“All right, I’m going,” I say, but not before I’ve taken another mouthful of Ava’s hash browns as I stand up.

When I get up to her bedroom, the door is closed. I knock, not really expecting her to answer.

She doesn’t.

So I just push on the door handle, and go on in.

Ava is sitting on her bed, looking up at me in surprise — okay, and maybe there’s a little outrage on her face too.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks, eyes flashing.

I told you so
, I say to Darcey in my head.

But what I say out loud is, “Well, you left kind of suddenly. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Ava stares at me for a long moment, before shaking her head. “Yeah. Everything’s just fine.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

For a second, Ava looks like she’s about to respond with some biting comment, but then her face softens and she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry. I’m being mean. This isn’t your fault.”

I frown.
“What do you mean?”

Ava gestures, a little helpless. “This whole situation. What we did last night. It wasn’t… responsible. It wasn’t what we’re supposed to be doing. That’s why I’m on edge this morning. I can’t help thinking that someone saw us.”

I step farther into the room, closing the door behind me. “So what if they did? I mean, to them, we’re
supposed
to be a couple. They’ll just say we skipped out to fuck. Isn’t that what they’re supposed to think we’re doing anyway?”

Ava looks at me, eyes desperate. “Yes, but we’re not
really
supposed to be doing it!” she says, sounding exasperated. “I don’t know, it’s like I can’t keep this all together in my head anymore. I know that everyone is supposed to think we’re an item, but we can’t
really
be one. What we did last night… even if everyone thinks that’s what we’re doing, it’s not supposed to be reality.” She shakes her head. “Fuck, I feel like I’m talking in circles.”

I sit down on the bed next to her. She looks so lost right now — different from how I’ve ever seen her before. She’s either been snapping at me or completely in control — or else coming hard on my tongue or my fingers. I’ve never seen her like this before, though.

I reach out and put a hand on the small of her back. She still smells like her sweat from last night. I like it. It’s
her
scent.

“Look, I get it,” I say. “You know I won’t tell anyone.”

Ava exhales, and then laughs bitterly. “It’s not even about that anymore. I mean, it is, but —”

She cuts herself off.

“What’s the problem? Didn’t you like it?”

I ask the question anyway, even though it’s obviously ridiculous. Of course she liked it.

“It’s not as simple as that.”

I want to tell her that it seems simple enough to me, but I hold myself back. She’s clearly got something on her mind.

“I’m
supposed
to always do the right thing,” Ava says, her tone a little bitter. “I’m trying to help my dad. That’s all this was supposed to be. I didn’t ever think I’d — I didn’t think it’d actually turn into…
this.
Whatever it is. I mean, I’m sure it’s fine for you, you’ve probably done this dozens of times….”

“What, casual sex?” I grin. “Yeah, at
least.
”

Ava shoots me a dirty look, then rolls her eyes. “That’s what I mean. But I
don’t
. I’m pretty sure this is the exact opposite of what my father intended for this.”

“So?” I ask her. “Like you said, your dad doesn’t control your life. You can do whatever you want, you can fuck whoever you want. Do you think your dad would come to you to get permission before he hooked up with, I don’t know, Hillary Clinton or whoever?”

“That is
not
a mental image I needed,” Ava snaps. Then she softens again. “But you know what? I kind of think he would.
Not
the hooking up part, but if he ever became seriously involved with someone. It’s just been the two of us for so long, since Mom died. He’d want to make sure it was all right first.”

I didn’t know Ava’s mom was dead. I suppose I should have guessed, seeing as she wasn’t in the picture, and her family doesn’t seem like the divorcing types — people always seem to stay together when there’s money involved.

“Well, did
you
put that condition on him?” I ask her. “Did you tell him he wasn’t allowed to get married without your permission?”

“No, of course not,” Ava says.

“And you’d be happy if he found someone, wouldn’t you?”

Ava darts her eyes away. “Of course.”

“So what gives him the right to dictate to
you
like that?”

She sighs, before flopping back on the bed. The long t-shirt she’s wearing inches tantalizingly up over her thighs, and I feel my cock give a definite twitch.

“I don’t really want to talk about this anymore,” she says abruptly. “It’s just… it’s more complicated than that. My dad’s just trying to protect me.”

“From what?”

I lie down on the bed next to her. I reach over, running the tips of my fingers over her thighs. She shivers, and I feel goosebumps rising on her skin again. She turns her head to look at me, but she doesn’t answer.

“I think you know from what.”

“From boys like me?” I ask, grinning wickedly.

A small smile tugs at Ava’s lips when my fingers slide a little higher up her thigh.

“Something like that,” she says.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

AVA

There’s something seriously wrong with me, I’ve decided.

I just can’t keep my hands off Riley Knox. Or tell him to keep
his
hands off
me.

When I came up to my room, it was because I couldn’t think straight with his fingers tracing little circles over my thighs when we were sitting at the table. And at that moment, that’s all I’d wanted to do — to
think.
To try to figure out how to get out of the very stupid situation I’d placed myself in.

Then Riley had come up and… I don’t know why, but I’d started offloading onto him about things with my mom. About how I’d felt the need to be who my dad wanted me to be. I’d gotten my way on studying chemical engineering, but only because my dad still thinks I might use it to work for big oil, something like that. Something that’ll  be advantageous. I haven’t had the heart to tell him yet that I plan on going into water recycling, re-use of plastics, something like that. I’ll have to submit my thesis topic soon, though.

Perhaps I’ll be able to get away with it. Clean energy and recyclables are the future, after all, and they’re looking for investors.

But there’s no way I’ll ever be able to tell him about Riley.

Both he and Murray have made it perfectly clear: no real involvement with Riley.

I’ve had plenty of chances to get myself out of the situation — I’d been a total bitch to Riley when we first met, and my father asked me just yesterday if I still felt comfortable doing this. But somehow, we’ve still ended up here, together.

Lying on my bed, his hand sliding up my thigh, his lips on mine.

And despite everything, I don’t want him to stop.

Maybe Riley’s right
, I think to myself as we kiss lazily, our tongues sliding against each other. Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a bad way to lose my virginity. Riley’s made it clear he knows what he’s doing, and really, I have to lose it sometime. Better to do it this way, with the smoking hot football star who makes me curl my toes with how much I want him, than in some sloppy, half-drunk encounter in the back of a limo with….

… With a guy who comes from exactly the same background as me. Who’ll have his own expectations of me once he inevitably starts talking about marriage. Who’ll want a kid as quickly as possible. Maybe a lot of kids. Kids who’ll be, of course, raised by a nanny, because I’ll have far too many events to go to, too many things to support my husband in to have much time for them.

I mean,
I
want kids too, one day. But I want to work first. And I want to raise them myself.

I want to set my own timetable for my life. I know what society marriages are like, and I know what the expectations are. My mother was very involved in my upbringing, but even I can remember weeks when I didn’t see my parents, especially my father. There’s work, there’s events, there’s business trips, there’s the rigid social calendar you’re expected to maintain.

I’ve never wanted that.

I gasp as Riley’s finger slides up between my pussy lips, circling my clit.

Riley is everything I’m not supposed to want.

He has no people. He might be a star football player, and sure, he might earn a lot of money from that. If he’s even half as good as people say he is, he could earn tens of millions of dollars. He’ll never need to think about money again, provided he gets himself a clever accountant.

But that’s not the issue.

A lot of people think money is money. But that’s not true. The divide between old money and new money is still as clear as ever in my world. I once taught a remedial English class over the summer, and the kids there couldn’t wrap their heads around
The Great Gatsby
. I still remember them saying things like,
But Gatsby’s rich now, can’t he just marry Daisy? What’s the problem?
It had seemed so obvious to me that I had to really think about how to explain it.

And that’s just the thing: girls like me don’t marry guys like Riley.

I mean, not that I was thinking about it —
marrying
him, I mean. We barely know each other. We’re not even dating! We just… can’t seem to stop touching each other.

But I just don’t think I’m the kind of person who can have flings like that — when I fall, I think I’m going to fall hard. And it can’t be for Riley.

Riley’s hand shifts, his fingers pressing gently against my entrance.

I can’t hold back my moan, pushing myself down onto his fingers, wanting to feel them inside me. Last night had been…
incredible.

That sounds like a cliché, but there’s no other way to describe it. I’d never really understood the big deal about sex — could it really feel
that
good? — but now, I can feel the flames of lust licking along my veins already, desperate to feel Riley’s hands and lips on my body. I don’t think I can stand another second of not having him inside me.

Riley is quick to oblige. His fingers move up into me in one smooth movement, opening me easily.

“You’re wet,” he mutters, his voice husky and deep.

“I want you.”

There’s no point in denying it. I can feel my own juices sliding down my thighs, coating Riley’s fingers and hands as he moves them, his thumb pressing down on my clit.

I arch up off the bed the next time he pushes his fingers inside me, biting my lip. God, he feels
so good
, his fingers knowing just what my body wants — what it needs.

“Oh fuck,
fuck
…” I groan, pleasure unwinding through me.

How is he doing this to me with only his fingers? How can he make me so wet with just the slightest touch? I was already wet when I was sitting at the dining room table and he started running his fingers over my thigh. It’s like he has some direct access line to my pussy from everywhere else in my body. He can touch me anywhere, and instantly I’ll be ready, glistening and dripping wet, desperate and hungry for his touch.

It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

“Jesus, you look hot.”

Riley’s voice is gruff and throaty, and I open my eyes to find him looking down at me, his eyes dark with lust.

“Pull your t-shirt up. Put your hand on your boob. I want to see you touch yourself.”

Ordinarily I’d feel self-conscious about something like this — I don’t even like getting changed in front of other girls — but now, I do what Riley says without hesitation. I yank my oversized t-shirt up over my stomach and chest, exposing my breasts and my hard nipples. They’re pink and peaking, and when I take one of them between my fingers and pinch, it sends a dart of delicious pleasure shooting through my body, making me writhe on the bed.

“Keep doing that.”

There’s a low note of command in Riley’s voice, and in that moment, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than exactly what he tells me. I roll my nipple between my thumb and forefinger, while he continues to pump his fingers in and out of my pussy. Everything in me is throbbing, every nerve, every cell. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a knife, and I’m so, so close to tumbling off….

And then Riley moves his fingers inside me once more, groaning. I feel the hard press of his cock against my thigh.

I open my eyes and look down to see he’s stroking his own hard erection at the same time as he moves his fingers in and out of me, bringing us off together, at the same pace. No wonder he needed me to grab my own nipple — he doesn’t have a hand free.

The sight of his own hand wrapped around his massive cock sends a flurry of heat through me, gathering in my belly. I’ve never seen anything hotter than this — he’s sweaty, his abs bunching as he moves, his tanned, golden skin moving over his flexing muscles. No human should look his good. No human should be able to make me feel as good he’s making me feel right now.

“Fuck, Ava,” he groans as he throws his head back, the muscles in his neck cording.

It’s the sound of my name that undoes me. Riley groans it out as if he loves saying it, the last vowel long and husky as it leaves his throat.

I cry out, my back arching, my thighs clenching around Riley’s fingers as I come, bliss spiraling through every corner of my body. I can feel my muscles tightening and untightening, my head rising and falling on the bed as my orgasm swells through me, leaving me sweaty and breathless in its wake.

A second later, I hear Riley’s long, unutterably sexy groan, and then feel the hot spatter of his come over my stomach and thighs. I force myself to watch him as he comes, his cock twitching in his hand. He has his lips pulled back in what looks almost like a snarl, his eyes closed, long lashes swept down. He looks so hot when he’s coming that I can’t tear my eyes away, almost hypnotized by the sight. He’s
gorgeous.
I can’t imagine a time when my mouth won’t water when I look at him.

Breathless, Riley flops down on the bed next to me, cushioning his head with his arm. We don’t say anything for a long time.

As much as I just want to lie here and listen to him breathe and forget everything else, I know I can’t do that. I have a late class, and I need to check my phone. I’ll probably have about ninety missed calls from Murray, demanding to know why we left early last night, where we went, and what the purpose of it was. I’m not looking forward to that at all.

Then of course I’ll have to try to sort out what to do about Riley.

I
want
to fuck him. That’s pretty obvious. Twenty-two is a perfectly decent age to lose your virginity. And I could do worse than losing it to a hot-as-hell football-playing sex god.

So why am I still hesitating?

If I want to do it, everything’s in place right here, right now. Riley’s sweaty and mostly naked on the bed next to me, and he’s more than expressed his willingness to do the deed.

But something still doesn’t seem right.

Almost like… it’d be using him.

I kind of want to laugh out loud at that idea. How many women has Riley screwed then never spoken to again? It must be dozens. What would make this any different?

But that’s not the only thing. I know that, somewhere in my heart, I don’t want to lose my virginity to someone I don’t care about. I mean, I
do
care about Riley, but this is never going to work between us. It’ll never be anything more than a secret fling. I never thought I’d do a secret fling in the first place, but seeing as I have, I don’t know if I want to take it to the next level. Not when it can’t go much further than that.

I mean, aside from my situation, I know what Riley’s reputation is. He’s the king of hit-it-and-quit-it. He probably sees me as a challenge, and once the challenge is overcome, he’ll lose interest.

And I’m not anybody’s little sex project. I had enough of that in prep school. The boys I went to school with — some of whom I still see around today — think I didn’t know about their little betting pool to see who could get me into bed. That’s part of the reason I never hooked up with anyone in school. I’m not going to be just another notch on the bedpost, a trophy to brag about.

“You’re thinking.”

Riley’s voice cuts into my musings. I sigh.

“Yeah.”

“You think too much.”

I shrug, shuffling on the bed and turning to look at him. “I don’t think it’s possible to think too much.”

“Well, you’re wrong. You’re always doing it. You’re always thinking of problems, reasons why things won’t work out. You should stop doing that.”

“Oh, yeah?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “What would you know about it?”

Riley’s silent for a long time.

“Do you know where I come from?”

I open my mouth, but then close it. I was going to challenge him, but I sense I’d be wrong to.

“I come from the shittiest part of Philadelphia. The part you wouldn’t even drive though. You probably wouldn’t even know it exists. I got told so many time I’d be better off dropping out of school and working, that school wasn’t going to do anyone here any good since none of us were going to college anyway. My mom worked so hard, and sometimes yeah, I did offer to drop out and help her, but she wouldn’t hear it. Even if she didn’t think I had a future either.” Riley looks away, gazing up at the ceiling. I can hear my heart thumping wildly in my chest. “But despite all of that, here I am with a free ride at the best football college on the east coast.
Thinking
sure as hell didn’t get me here — thinking of all the ways a kid like me is set up to fail before he’s even started. I just did it. I knew what I wanted. And I did it.”

I swallow hard. All of my problems suddenly start to seem very small and petty compared with what Riley’s come from.

We’re from two different worlds. I don’t even know what to say to him right now.

I’m genuinely touched he told me this. Riley acts like such an arrogant cock most of the time, it’s weird to see him talking like this — almost… vulnerable. He’d probably puff out his chest and go eat a steak and threaten to hit a guy if I said that out loud, but it’s true.