The Player Next Door (13 page)

He chuckled. “Actually, she did. But only after I had gotten myself into trouble.”

She tilted her head close to him. “Are we about to talk about high school?”

He mirrored her movement such that they were almost nose to nose. “We are. But…” He swallowed, clearly nervous. “This story hasn’t hit the press. I’d rather it never did.”

She blinked, taking a moment to understand what he’d just said. “Did you just warn me away from talking to the press?” she asked. Then before he could answer, she started giggling.

“What?”

“The idea that the press would want to talk to me.” She laughed harder. “I mean, I’m rising to the top of my field and only about three people in the world care what I say. You can’t possibly think the press—”

“If they knew about you, Tori, knew that we’d been together, they’d be here.”

She stopped laughing, but only because she was so absorbed with the unusual idea that reporters would ever want to talk to her. But of course, they didn’t care about her. It was about him, and she was fine with that. “Don’t worry. The only reason to talk to the press is for either fame or money. I don’t want one and have plenty of the other.”

He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “You are one unique woman,” he said. Then he pulled away, but stayed to trace a finger along the lines of her hand. “I like the fame, Tori.”

Of course he did. It was part of being a media darling and a superstar athlete. “Then you should enjoy it. But don’t think I care one way or another about it.”

“Fair enough.”

He was wandering off topic again. And wasn’t that a surprise that she noticed when she was the queen of random thoughts? “High school,” she prompted.

“I got a girl pregnant.”

She winced at both his words and the unexpected stab of jealousy.

“Well,” he amended before she could say anything. “I thought I did. Turns out she wasn’t, but those were some bad weeks.”

“Were you going to keep the child? Marry her?”

“Absolutely. And then five minutes later, absolutely not. I waffled back and forth, thinking I’d quit school and get a job. Then I thought she ought to give up the baby. Then I thought she wouldn’t and I would have to find a way to support her and go to college. I could give her my scholarship money…” His free hand waved in the air while his gaze slid away. “It was a mess. I was a mess.”

“Which is when your mom invented the system, right?”

He nodded. “It’s not like it was a new idea, but she laid it out crystal clear. I had to pick what I wanted to do in life and stick with it. And that meant not getting sidetracked into women, into parties, into…everything else.”

“You wanted basketball.” Obviously.

“Yeah. But I would have stuck by the girl. I wasn’t going to be my father and skip.”

Of course not. “But then she turned up not pregnant—”

“And I broke it off. No more girls. No more sex. No more mistakes. I wanted to play pro ball.”

“And you did.”

He shook his head. “It was never that easy. I had a girlfriend in college, too. She was a lot like you. Smart. Feisty. A German major and hot as hell. I’d learned the lesson about wearing a condom, but not about focus.”

“Did she distract you?”

“Got me to try ecstasy. Fucked me up royally, and I fell down a flight of stairs. Sprained my wrist, banged up my head, and taught me a lesson.”

“Not to dabble and drive…er, walk?”

“Not to dabble at all. It only takes a single moment with your eye off the ball. One little pill and all my dreams could have disappeared. Poof.”

She was silent, absorbing his words. She knew what it took to reach the top of a field. Of course she did. But until this moment, she hadn’t really processed that a pro athlete had to be vigilant all the time. It was his body on the line. She could break a leg and still write her papers. He couldn’t even experiment in college without risking everything.

She understood pinpoint focus. Hell, she could be as driven as any pro athlete
—
for a time. But to keep that kind of discipline all his life without wavering? She couldn’t even imagine it.

“You’re more impressive the more I know you,” she said.

“You’re the only woman in the world more impressed by my failures than my accomplishments.”

She chuckled. “Staying disciplined over the long haul is not a failure. It’s a monumental achievement. On the order of the Mayan temples.”

“And here I just thought I played really good ball.”

She looked at him, her gaze roving over his face, but seeing more than just his features. She saw the movement of his body when he played and the agony of a teenager who thought his entire life was over. She saw a man who’d caught her out of the air at the risk of his shoulder, and also the man who’d run out of her bedroom for a reason she was only beginning to understand.

“I want to sleep with you again,” she blurted. “But I don’t want to screw with your system.”

“Do you want to wait ten years?” he asked. “That’s about how long I have until my career’s over.”

She winced. She often couldn’t wait thirty minutes for a pizza. “Not likely,” she confessed.

“Yeah. Me either.” And then he kissed her. It was a thorough kiss, for all that it was swift. A touch of their mouths, a thrust of his tongue, and a duel that left her breathless before he pulled back.

“Mike?” she asked, startled by how husky the word sounded.

“It’s just a temporary thing, right? No commitments.”

“I live in the moment, Mike. You know that.”

“I don’t.”

She leaned forward and nipped at his lower lip. “Maybe you should try.”

He grinned. Then he reached up with one hand to stroke her chin. He was searching her eyes for something, she had no idea what. “I came here to tell you that my friends are going to hit on you. That if you get tired of me, there are plenty of other fish—”

“Jesus, like I don’t know that,” she interrupted.

He blinked, obviously startled.

“I learn from my mistakes. I’m not going to hang around when it’s gone wrong. I should have dumped Edward long ago. The minute you start boring me, you’re out of here.” It was a lie. She already knew she’d put up with a lot of bad to stay with Mike. He understood her. He laughed at her jokes. He let her make her own decisions. And he never once talked down to her. She figured it was more likely he would get tired of her.

Meanwhile, he was laughing. “Fair enough,” he said. Then he went back to kissing her. His hand stroked up her cheek and into her hair while the other one began caressing her thigh, teasing along the edge of her cutoffs.

She shivered at his large hands, loving the feel of him touching so much of her and yet needing more. “Can we do it my way this time?” she asked.

His lips curved into a smile. “Can you do it while still making eye contact?”

She frowned for a moment, then realized she’d spoken words aloud. That’s how much he distracted her when he touched her. She ended up mouthing words that had little connection to her brain. And yet…she liked that he would let her take control. “Will you let me handcuff you? And have my wicked way with you?”

He snorted. “If you like.”

She frowned at him. “You don’t seem turned on by the idea.”

His expression turned naughty. “Baby, I’m turned on by you. It doesn’t matter how. Have at it.” Then he touched her chin. “But you give me the key. I won’t use it unless you get weird. But I—”

“Deal.” She might have argued that having the key wasn’t truly surrender, but honestly, she never remembered the safe word anyway. It was better if he kept the key. She trusted that he would play fair.

“Eye contact all the time? No wandering off while I’m cuffed to the bed.”

She laughed. “Okay. But you can close your eyes and scream if you want.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Are you su—ooh!” And once again, she was being hauled to her feet by his good arm. She laughed, thrilled to be lifted so easily. She’d bet anything that once he got his rotator healed, he’d be throwing her over his shoulder caveman style. Which was all kinds of good with her. “The handcuffs are in my desk.”

He’d been heading for her bedroom, but stopped. “Which is where…?”

“Oh. Right. Upstairs.” She’d converted an upstairs bedroom to her office. She led the way while he kept their hands intertwined. Three steps down the hall and into the room and there it was. Her metal monstrosity of a desk that had once been her grandfather’s. It was lime green and was always cool to the touch. She loved it even before he maneuvered her to sit down on the top of it.

“Before we get to the handcuffs,” he said, “I want to spend some time kissing you.”

She grinned. That worked for her. She gestured to the massive desk chair that went with the massive desk. All metal except for the leather seat. It had armrests that curved down into the frame and would be perfect in just a few minutes. But he didn’t know that as he settled onto it and then rolled right up between her legs.

Then it was kissing, teasing, nipping, and generally a wonderful good time. God, why had she never done this before? Why had she always rushed through? Because it had never occurred to her that this could be fun. Or that any man would be patient enough to do this for so long.

Which by her estimation was about ten minutes before she got so hot and bothered that she wanted the main event. Like now.

She broke away from his mouth, her heart pounding hard in her chest, and her bottom slick against the metal. “Top drawer to the right.” He grinned at her and pulled open the drawer to reveal all her bills stuffed to bursting. Oops. “To my right,” she amended.

He shifted to the other side, pulling it open to reveal random pens, paperclips, and four pairs of handcuffs. Two plastic cheapies, a pink fuzzy one, and one wrapped in black leather.

Mike frowned. “Is this something you do often?”

“Never. Those are all party favors.”

He laughed. “You go to different parties than I do.”

“Really?” That didn’t fit with the wild sports party image she’d had in her brain.

“Really,” he said seriously.

She shrugged. “Don’t worry. Academics like to pretend they’re wild, but for the most part my friends get off on talking about their field of study. Boooorrrring.” She reached down and pulled out the pink furry one. “I can’t believe I’m going to finally get to try these.”

He heaved a sigh, though she could see laughter in his eyes. Not turned on
—
well not by the handcuffs
—
but a beautiful sense of fun that lifted the joy in her, too. Was this what it was like to date a man who played games for a living? She didn’t know. She just knew that she was going to play with Mike, and that was beyond thrilling.

Snick.

She’d snapped one cuff onto his wrist. Wow. Even his wrists were big.

“That’s not hurting is it?”

“Only my manly appeal. Did you have to use the pink ones?”

She snapped the other side onto the metal armrest. “Quiet, Tutu. I chose this one on purpose.”

He grumbled at that nickname, but she just grinned as she grabbed the leather cuffs. But he kept his hand out of her reach. “Not until I get the key. Don’t want you wandering off, forgetting that I’m trapped here as your prisoner.”

“Hmmm,” she said, liking that idea. But she pressed the key in his hand anyway. “You sure you can work it?”

“You’d be surprised what my fingers can do.”

And wasn’t that a suggestive idea? She lost focus for a moment imagining all the possibilities, but when his free hand slid up between her thighs, she came back to the present real fast. Oh wow. Even one-handed and through the heavy fabric of her cutoffs, he was already stroking her clit to trembling awareness.

“Oh yes,” she murmured, her hips working against his hand. “Oh wow.”

“Take off your shorts,” he said. “Strip them off for me, Tori.” Then he stopped what he was doing, and she had to force herself back to lucidity.

“Damn, you’re good.”

He just grinned.

Snick.

One leather cuff on his free hand. A moment later, she had him latched to the other armrest. She didn’t even forget to give him the key.

“Well, hell. Now I won’t be able to finish what I started.”

She leaned down, making sure her breasts were in full view. “You’re supposed to say I’m good, too.”

“I don’t like stating the obvious.”

She grinned and reached down to his shorts. That erection must be hurting given how thick and hard it pressed against the fabric. It took her a few fumbling moments, but she got him undone. His always impressive member pushed into her hand, and she enjoyed giving it some attention. A few strokes, a pinch at the tip, and a wicked lick of her lips while his breath shortened and his nostrils flared.

“Do you like that?” she asked.

“You know I do.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.” Then she abruptly used her feet to spin him away from her. He stopped his motion quickly enough. His feet weren’t tied down, but she’d accomplished what she intended. He wasn’t locking her against the desk anymore. And he was hot and hard and frustrated.

She knew the feeling.

Meanwhile, she hopped off the desk and moved to stand in front of him.

Striptease time.

Well that’s what she intended. Except now that it came to it, the idea was better in concept than in execution. She was busy rolling her pelvis around and trying to be seductive with her arms, but it really didn’t work. She had no natural sense of rhythm and nothing in her body worked in a coordinated pattern.

“I need music,” she said.

“No baby,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “You’re doing just fine. Take off that tee for me. Just pull it off.”

She could do that. In fact, she could do it slowly, one bare inch at a time. Well, at first. About two seconds after her vision was blocked, she lost patience and hauled it off. That left her in a lacy red bra.

Mike grinned and his eyes smoldered. “Nice. Now how about those shorts?”

She could do that, too. She unbuttoned, and then slid the zipper down. Then on sudden inspiration, she spun around and slowly bent over. She was pretty flexible thanks to a regular yoga class, and so she was able to drag the shorts down while lifting her bottom high in the air. The matching lace thong was just a lucky accident. Normally, her underwear was a mismatched jumble of whatever was clean.