Playing Hard to Get (The Players)

I DIDN’T MEAN for it to happen this way.

I’d fully intended to convince her we needed to continue seeing each other beyond the tutoring sessions. I’m not looking for a relationship or anything, but we can’t deny that we share a connection. One I want to explore further.

And then the woman had to go and reject me. Treat me like some dumb little kid who wanted something he thought he couldn’t have.

That pissed me right off.

I kissed her out of anger, and she eagerly responded. I heard that little whimper low in the back of her throat. How her lips parted easily for my tongue. She kissed me back, damn it.

She wanted it.

She wanted me.

“Knox,” she starts, tilting her head back, her dark eyes meeting mine. I wait, my hands resting lightly on her waist, my entire body coiled tight, waiting for her to tell me no.

The second that word passes her lips, I’m done. I’m out of here. I won’t force myself on a woman, despite feeling like I did just that only minutes ago.

I’m a shit. But damn it, I’m so fucking into her, even when she’s rejecting my ass, and it’s blowing my mind that she doesn’t feel the same way about me.

“What?” I press my forehead against hers, staring into those fathomless dark eyes, wanting her to feel how she affects me. I grab hold of her right hand and drag it over, so it rests in the dead center of my chest. Over my rapidly beating heart. “That’s what you do to me, Jo Jo. I know you want this too.”

She curls her fingers into the fabric of my sweatshirt, bunching it into her palm before she lets go, her fingers circling around my wrist and bringing my hand toward her. My hand splays across her chest, fingers slipping beneath the open collar of her button-up shirt, touching smooth, bare skin.

Fuck, I don’t ever want to stop touching her.

Her heart races beneath my palm, the steady rhythm matching my own. I slide my hand deeper into her shirt, my fingertips skimming the lacy strap of her bra, and I swallow hard.

“That’s what you do to me,” she whispers, guiding my hand downward, until my fingers graze the front of her bra, the soft curve of her tit. Her nipple is hard beneath the lace and I touch it. Barely.

She softly exhales, her eyelids wavering, and a full-body tremble moves through her. Just from me touching her nipple.

It’s fucking on after that. I’m all over her, my mouth never leaving hers as my hands shift out of her shirt to grab hold of her waist. Somehow, I maneuver us into one of the chairs, my ass collapsing into the seat, our mouths still fused as she tumbles onto my lap. She’s straddling me, much like she did last time we were in this room, though with much more enthusiasm.

I keep hold of her waist, dragging her back and forth across my hard cock. I’m wearing sweats. No boxer briefs. Free ballin’ it, as I used to say when I was like, twelve, and thought I was hilarious.

Best idea I’ve had in what feels like years. It would take nothing to free myself. For her to slip her hand beneath my joggers and touch me…

“Oh God,” she gasps when I break away from her lush mouth to rain kisses down the length of her neck, my hands still shifting her against me. “Don’t stop.”

Like I’d stop. I’m not an idiot.

I reach for the front of her shirt, fumbling in my eagerness to get her naked as I undo each button. I pull away from her neck, wanting to watch as I unwrap her like a present, the air lodged in my throat as I take in all of that creamy skin I’ve exposed. Her bra is the palest pink, the front of it constructed of nothing but lace, which means I can see her nipples. They’re hard. Practically begging for my mouth.

Leaning forward, I press my face between her tits, breathing her in. She smells like heaven. Feels like it too.

I can’t get enough of her.

Blindly, I skim my fingers around her back, undoing her bra. The cups come loose and I pull away slightly, so I can shove them upward, exposing her completely.

She’s panting, her tits rising and falling fast. Is that ink I see, just below her right breast? A strangled noise leaves her and I lift my gaze to hers to find she’s watching me, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. Silently giving me encouragement to continue exploring.

I breathe across one nipple, watching as the dark pink skin tightens. I do the same to the other one, pleasure rippling through me when she sinks her fingers into the hair at the back of my head, holding me to her. As if she’s still afraid I’m going to take off.

Darting out my tongue, I lick one nipple. Just a quick swipe.

Teasing her.

She doesn’t move. She doesn’t so much as breathe. The anticipation builds, the air laced with tension, and I trace my fingers down her spine.

I lick her nipple again. Firmer this time, using more pressure. Covering more ground. I circle the bit of flesh slowly. Once. Twice, before I draw it into my mouth and suck it deep.

She moans, arching her chest forward.

I do the same to the other nipple. Teasing. Licking. Sucking. I bite her nipple, testing how much pain she can handle, and she hisses out a breath, her body melting into mine.

Guess this girl likes it a little rough.

Noted.

“We need to take this off.” I start tugging on her shirt, which she’s still wearing.

Her wide eyes meet mine. “But what if someone tries to come in?”

I glance toward the massive wooden door. It’s heavy as a bitch. Old and scratched up. Wonder how many other college students hooked up in this room before us? “Is the door locked?”

She shakes her head, panic flaring in her gaze.

“Well fuck.” I rise to my feet, depositing her onto the floor as I make my way over to the door and slide the deadbolt in before glancing down at myself.

I’m sporting a major tent in my sweats that would scare just about any woman if she saw this coming toward her. Not that I’m bragging about my dick size but…

Okay, I’m bragging about my dick size. It’s definitely not small. Not even close.

Reaching down, I try to readjust myself, wincing at the ache that rocks through my balls. I don’t even have boxer briefs on to contain this beast. Jesus.

I turn, ready to encourage her to get rid of the shirt and bra, but her gaze drops to my groin, her eyes going the widest I’ve ever seen them.

“Tell me that’s not all you.”

It’s fairly fucking obvious it’s all me. “Uh…”

“Knox.” Her eyes meet mine, and is that fear in them? “My God.”

I rest my hand over my junk, trying to hide it, but it’s no use. “This is what you do to me.”

“I…” She shakes her head, collapsing onto the chair we were just sitting on. “Just…wow.”

I start to deflate, literally. I can see it on her face—she’s second-guessing this entire situation. “That happened pretty fast. Faster than normal.”

“Uh huh.” The moment I drop my hand, she’s staring at my erection again. “We’re probably not going to get any work done today, huh?”

I shake my head. “My rough draft is due Friday.”

“Friday? God, she’s mean. And right before your game too.”

Huh. Look how she cares. “At least I don’t have to write it over the weekend.”

“True.” Sighing, she glances down at herself and her cheeks immediately turn pink. “Oh my God, look at me. I was trying for professional here.”

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, and she shakes her head, ignoring me completely as she tries to yank her bra into place, covering her tits. She then tries to reach behind herself to re-hook it, but it’s not really working.

I approach her, offering my hand. “Let me help you.”

She takes my hand and stands, slowly turning around to present her back to me. I reach beneath her shirt, hooking the bra back together, and she faces me once more, her mouth falling open in surprise when I start to button her shirt.

It’s absolute torture, brushing my fingers against her soft skin as I cover her back up, but it’s the least I can do after what just happened.

“Thank you,” she murmurs when I finish, her head still bent. “I know I keep saying this but—”

I run my finger down the front of her shirt, stopping directly between her breasts. “If you say one more time how we shouldn’t do this, I’m going to stuff something in your mouth to shut you up.”

Her gaze jerks to mine, her lips parting slightly. “What exactly are you going to stuff in my mouth?”

My smile is wicked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She laughs, breaking the tension, and I wonder if she knows how fucking serious I was with that comment.

Because I was dead-ass serious.

“I think I’m going to go,” she announces, grabbing her things and stuffing them back into her bag. “Clearly we’re not going to get any work done here.”

I glance at the clock hanging on the wall. “We still have forty-five minutes.”

“Do you really want to work on your rough draft right now?”

I shake my head. That’s the last thing I want to do. “You have somewhere to be?”

“No.”

“Let’s hang out.” When she frowns, I add, “Not here. Let’s—go grab some coffee or whatever.”

She contemplates me for a moment. I glance down at my groin, thankful my erection is already pretty much gone. Can’t imagine leaving the library with a massive boner. “Just coffee?”

“I’m not going to maul you in the coffee place on campus,” I say wryly.

Her cheeks flush. It’s so easy to embarrass her. “I didn’t think you would.”

“Even though I might want to.” I smile. “Come on. Let me buy you a pumpkin spice latte or whatever it is you chicks seem to dig during fall.”

She rolls her eyes as she closes her book bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “I hate pumpkin spice lattes.”

“Of course you do,” I mutter as I follow her to the door. Every other woman I know seems to love them.

We end up at the coffee place that’s across the way from the library. She orders a nonfat vanilla latte and I get a cup of plain coffee with creamer and sugar because I can’t handle those sweet, flavored drinks. Besides, my coaches would kill me if I wasted calories on sugary beverages.

The shop is small, with only a few tables inside, and every one of them is occupied.

It also feels like every single person is watching us—watching me—most likely wondering who this girl is that I’m with and if we’re actually together. There are a couple of guys who eye Joanna with interest, but I glare at every single one of them, causing them all to look away.

Good. They need to back off.

“Should we sit outside?” she asks, turning to me with both coffees clutched in her hands.

“Yeah, let’s.” I follow her outside, making sure to open the door for her on the way. I walk beside her, liking how short she is, checking out our reflection in the windows as we walk past the buildings. I like how we look together, and I’ve never had that thought about a woman before.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she says after we settle onto a bench that’s under a huge pine tree. She takes a sip from her paper cup. “I rarely get coffee here, but it’s good.”

“You don’t normally like coffee?”

“Oh, I do, but I have one of those Nespresso coffee makers my parents got me for my birthday. I’d rather save money and drink it at home,” she explains.

I can’t help but notice how rigid she is sitting next to me. Nothing like the woman grinding against me only a few minutes ago.

“Are you mostly on your own or do your parents help you?”

“They helped me at first, but now I’m on my own. That’s why I work at the bookstore and do the tutoring thing. My schedule is full, but I manage it pretty well. Plus, I’d be bored if I didn’t stay busy all the time, so I don’t mind,” she explains.

“Yeah, I like to stay busy too.” I glance out at the campus, watching as people walk by on the sidewalk. We’re in a pretty quiet area, but there are still plenty of people milling around. Some of them are looking over at us oddly too. Like they’re not quite sure what the two of us are up to.

“What’s your major?” she asks.

“Business.” I take a sip of my coffee, grimacing at the strength. I sort of hate coffee. “Kept it pretty general just in case.”

She frowns. “Just in case what?”

“In case I get into the NFL.” I grin at her. “It could happen. I come from NFL royalty, according to ESPN.”

“Is that what you want?” She watches me over the edge of her cup as she keeps sipping at her drink.

“Who wouldn’t want it?”

“Maybe you have other ambitions.” She rests her cup on her slender thigh, and I wish I had the right to settle my hand on her leg. Slide my fingers forward, between her thighs. Claim her like I own her.

If she was some girl I just wanted to fuck once, I’d already have my hands all over her. Staking my claim and not giving a damn because I know it’s not going to last beyond the day.

With Joanna, it doesn’t feel like that. I want to take things fast. Slow. Extra fast.

Extremely slow.

I’m all over the place when it comes to this woman. I don’t know where I stand with her, or what she thinks of me. And that kind of sucks.

“I want to play for the NFL,” I say firmly.

“Any team in particular?”

“Any team who will take me.”

“That must be so weird,” she says, her voice drifting as she sips from her cup again.

“You want the truth?”

She nods, her eyes wide.

“It’s scary.” I don’t say that to too many people. I act like I’ve got this shit on lock. Outwardly, I’m confident that life is going to go my way.

But buried deep, I’m nervous. What if no team wants me? What then?

I don’t know what’s going to happen.

Shit.

I change the subject.

“What’s your major?”

“Marketing and public relations.”

“What do you want to do with it after you graduate?”

“I’m not sure yet. My freshman year I wanted to be a teacher, but I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Not a lot of pay, though there is plenty of reward. I don’t know. Is that all I want to do with my life? Be a teacher?” She turns to me, her brows lowered in question.

“Some of the most influential people in my life were teachers,” I admit, setting my disgusting coffee on the bench beside me. I’m not going to finish that mess. “You can have a huge influence on someone in their formative years.”

“I guess. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. Work at a bookstore forever? I love books, but not that much.” She pauses. “I sometimes think I want to be a writer, but that’s just me dreaming.”

I’m impressed. “Hey, you never know. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “I’ve always loved to read, so it feels natural, to want to write a story. A bunch of stories. I have all sorts of ideas in my head.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’s like, to enjoy reading.”

“It’s a shame you don’t enjoy it,” she says softly.

“I’m so bad at it, I never gave it a shot. Why torture myself,” I admit, turning away from her, so I can stare at the library looming in the near distance. A building full of books I have no intention of ever touching. I wish reading came easy for me, but it just doesn’t.

And it sucks.