Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (9 page)

“I’m fine,” I tell him, blowing air out of my mouth in frustration. “Totally fine. I’m just not in the mood tonight. You can have them both. My compliments.”

With that, I turn away, walking straight past the people hanging out on the porch, and out into the cold night air.

There’s something really wrong with you,
my brain informs me. Well, no shit. That’s the first time I’ve ever turned down pussy served up hot on a platter in my life.

I know what the problem is, though — it’s Ava. Somehow, she’s gotten a hold of my cock, and she won’t let it go.

This chick, who I’ve had a grand total of two conversations with. Both of which have been complete disasters.

It doesn’t matter, somehow. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t.

The only thing I
do
know is that the only way I’m going to get her out of my head is by getting her into my bed.

And the only way
that
is going to happen is if I keep on finding ways to be around her.

In other words, I’m going to have to keep playing her and her father’s stupid fucking game for a little while longer yet.

CHAPTER NINE

AVA

“I admit, I wasn’t exactly pleased when I saw the way the pictures had turned out, and it necessitated a change in strategy on my part. But it seems like the media took the opportunity to weave their own narrative about the incident, and I must say it’s worked out in our favor.”

I stare up at Murray. He’s the only person I know who can sound like this in everyday conversation.
Weave their own narrative.
Christ on a cracker.

I suppose I should be used to it by now. After all, I’ve known Murray most of my life. He knew my parents at college, and my dad’s always had political ambitions. Murray has his finger on the pulse of these things, and my dad donates heavily to the think tank he works for.

I’d been brooding about how he was going to react to the way the pictures with Riley turned out. I thought that Murray would finally agree that this whole thing had been ridiculous, and call it off.

But then I wouldn’t get to see Riley anymore.

And that’s a good thing,
I remind myself.
I don’t want to see him anymore. He’s arrogant and all he thinks about is sex. And he probably thinks you’re a raging bitch, seeing as that’s how you’ve behaved toward him every time you’ve talked.

Murray’s talking again. I give myself a shake, trying to listen.

“These first two meetings were an experiment, to see what the response would be. But now that we’ve stirred up interest, things will have to be a lot more… mediated, from now on. Co-ordinated. Now that we have people’s attention, we can less afford to put a foot wrong.”

I nod, trying to stop my thoughts from racing. Obviously this means this stupid fake dating thing is still on. And obviously
that
means I’m going to be seeing a lot more of Riley, provided his coach can still convince him that this is a good idea.

“Did it really stir up that much interest?” I ask, not really sure if I want to know the answer.

Ever since last week’s… little incident in the restaurant, I’ve been trying to lie low. The nerds in my chemical engineering program probably wouldn’t be able to pick Riley Knox out of a lineup, so I’m safe in my classes. But as soon as I step outside, I start getting the feeling people are looking and pointing at me, whether they are or not. Usually, they’re not. But I still feel all my hairs stand up on end whenever I’m outside.

Murray nods in his usual calm, measured way. “As I said, I had to modulate my strategy after the pictures turned out somewhat differently from how I had envisioned them. But the speculation has been building — the fact that you’re not well-known on campus has played well for us too. It fueled a guessing game as to your identity, and why you might have been arguing. This has turned into quite a gift.”

I notice that at no point does Murray enquire as to whether Riley and I were actually arguing, or what we were arguing about. My father’s away on business, but I suddenly miss him very much.

“A gift we shouldn’t squander,” Murray continues. “That’s why I’ve invited Riley here this afternoon — to discuss our next move.”

My head shoots up. “What?” I ask, horror creeping through my veins. “You asked Riley to come
here?
Without asking me first?”

We’re sitting in the great room of my father’s home, a massive, cathedral-ceilinged room with exposed beams, wood paneling and stone walls. There’s artwork on the walls worth more than some people’s houses. I can only imagine what Riley will make of this. The thought of him walking up the winding path through our garden, past the tennis courts and the huge lawns where my mother used to host garden parties is bad enough. I can just imagine the smug, cocky grin on his face, and remember the way he called me a ‘rich bitch’.

“Yes,” Murray answers me. “Is there a problem?”

Before I can even
think
of a way to answer that question, the intercom on the wall buzzes. Murray walks across the room to it, and, on the edge of my consciousness, I hear him talking to our butler, Jonathan. My head’s in such a mess that I can barely keep myself together.

Riley Knox is coming here.

He’s coming
here.

To the house I grew up in.
 

To my
home.

I can’t explain why this has me so disturbed.

Except for the fact that Riley makes me feel like I’m crawling out of my skin with lust.

Except that when we met, I could barely stop myself from leaping onto him and clawing his clothes off his body like I was some kind of animal.

Except that he makes my head spin and my bones ache and all I want to do is run my tongue over those sculpted pectoral muscles and perfect abs, tasting his skin and his sweat and his —

“So, what’s up, Ava?”

My head shoots up.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I was so caught up in my dirty little daydream that I hadn’t even noticed that Jonathan had shown Riley up already.

He’s standing there with exactly the same shit-eating grin I imagined him with as he looks around the room.

Something about the sight of
Riley Knox
standing there in the doorway of my father’s great room apparently short-circuits something in my brain, because I just sit there staring at him, saying nothing, and doing nothing.

Riley wanders in, hands in his jeans pockets, looking around the room in a totally casual way.

“Nice place,” he says. “I like the tennis courts. You play?”

“A little,” I manage to get out through my gritted teeth. Riley’s tone of voice makes it completely clear he’s trying to dig at me. And it’s working, too. I’m already clenching my fists so hard my nails are cutting into my palms.

“Thanks for coming by, Riley,” Murray says, completely oblivious. “I’m glad you could make time in your study and training schedule. That must be tough.”

Riley nods. “I manage somehow,” he says, his grin never wavering.

“I’m sure.” Murray’s already lost interest in the small talk. “Now, I asked you here today, as I’m sure William — I’m sorry, Coach Jackson — has already explained. Now that we’ve done the groundwork, we have to capitalize on the interest we’ve generated. This is going to be delicate work. We not only need to ensure that your relationship looks completely authentic, but that it’s also highly visible — but in such a way that it doesn’t seem as if we’re orchestrating anything. I have some ideas —”

Murray continues on in the way that only Murray can, talking about publicizing our totally fake relationship as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Maybe to Murray it is. He did run his own PR firm for a while. God only knows how many celebrity relationships he orchestrated for attention during that time. It’s not as if it’s unheard of. And isn’t there some crazy rumor that the guy from One Direction’s baby isn’t real, and it’s all a publicity stunt? My blood goes cold as I hope Murray hasn’t heard that story. I am
not
pretending to have Riley Knox’s baby.

“Ava? Did you get all of that?”

I blink, looking up at Murray. “Uh, sure,” I say, even though I haven’t heard a word. “Yeah. I got it.”

Murray narrows his eyes slightly, but he continues on nonetheless.

I do my best to pay attention this time — I really do. But now that I’ve been jerked out of my head, I’m uncomfortably aware that Riley is sitting next to me, his arms stretched along the back of the couch, legs open and crotch on display. Like he owns the place. And his fingertips are
very nearly
touching the back of my neck.

So close that I imagine I can feel the heat coming off them, warming my skin.

I shiver.

“I think what we need to do now is move on to something a little more formal,” Murray says. “Somewhere that you can be seen. Something more… extravagant.”

Extravagant.
I don’t know if I like the sound of that.

Before Murray can elaborate though, he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, looking down at it with a frown.

“Excuse me, I have to take this.”

He answers the call and wanders out into one of the adjoining rooms, closing the door firmly behind him as he goes. I’m left alone in the great room with Riley.

I keep sitting up, ramrod straight, not looking at him. He, on the other hand, seems totally at ease, not in the least bit uncomfortable.

Finally, I can take it no more.

“What’re you doing here?” I hiss, turning to look at him.

Riley remains unruffled. “I was invited.”

Okay, well, I can’t exactly argue with that. Clearly, Murray has my father’s permission to invite people around while he’s away.

But it still doesn’t explain why Riley agreed.

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself down. I’m not going to make the situation any better by being rude. Which is advice I could have given myself two weeks ago.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m sorry. It was just a surprise to see you here. I really thought that you wouldn’t want to keep doing this after —”

“After what?” Riley smiles broadly. “After you cussed at me about Kara?”

I swallow uncomfortably. “Yes,” I say. “I just wasn’t expecting you to bring your… I didn’t know you were bringing her. But I guess if we have to do this, then we might as well try to get along.”

“I could get along with you,” Riley tells me, his eyes drifting up and down my body with a look I know very well the meaning of. “I could get along with you just fine.”

I decide I’m going to ignore his innuendo. Rising to the bait will just give him what he wants.

“That’s great,” I say brightly. “I’m sorry I was so rude to you before. It’s just… it’s a weird situation, you know?”

I turn on all the fakey-fakey, nicey-nicey charm I’ve used to bluff my way through any number of boring or unpleasant conversations I’ve had to have over the course of being my father’s daughter.

As soon as I can bring myself to look at Riley’s face, however, I can see he’s not having a bar of it.

“It’s okay,” he says, still smirking. “You’re kind of hot when you’re mad.”

He’s trying to make me blush.

I know he is.

And he’s succeeding. I can feel the blood creeping up my throat and into my cheeks.

“I —” I begin to say. But what
can
I say? He’s trying to goad me. And I’m letting him.

I flip my hair over my shoulder.

Maybe it’s time to show him he’s not the only one who can play mind games.

“Pity I can’t say the same about you,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “But then, I guess it’s hard to make something out of nothing.”

Riley laughs. “Oh, let me assure you — I’ve definitely got
something.
”

“And what would that be?”

He shifts a little on the couch, which, if anything, somehow makes his crotch even more prominent.

“I think you know.”

I shake my head. “Obviously, I don’t.”

“You’ve got a short memory. Have you already forgotten my offer from last week?”

“What off—” I start to say, before I realize what he’s talking about. The offer of the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. The offer to make me come in three minutes using just his tongue.

Riley nods slowly as he sees realization dawn on my face. “It still stands, by the way.”

I lift my head, trying to look haughty. “Well, I have no intention of taking you up on it,” I inform him.

It’s too late though — my imagination has taken on a life of its own, and I’m already picturing Riley with his head buried between my legs, his tongue working against my pussy, pushing deep inside me. Touching places no one has ever touched before. I’m arching under his touch, fingers curled in my sheets, biting down desperately on my bottom lip as I try not to make a sound….

Riley’s laugh jerks me back into the here and now.

“You’re considering it, though,” he says, his voice warm and gravelly. “I can tell you’re thinking about it right now.”

I lick my lips, trying to focus. “How would you know?”

Riley shrugs. “I can just tell,” he says. “You’d be surprised what a giveaway someone’s body can be. You can tell me all you like how much you don’t want it, but looking at you right now, I can see just how much that isn’t true.”

I should deny it. I should tell him to wash his filthy mouth out with soap. But somehow, I can’t bring myself to do it.

He shifts again, and this time when I glance down at his crotch, I gasp. He has an obvious erection pushing against the front of his jeans. And… okay, well, I may not have much of a frame of reference, but it’s
huge.

Obviously, all the rumors about what Riley’s packing aren’t just rumors.

They’re totally true.

I realize I’m staring, and it takes me
way
too long to tear my eyes away.

Did he get hard just from watching me? Or was he imagining what would happen if I really did take him up on his offer, and brought him upstairs to my room right now, and let him put his mouth between my legs?