Playing to Win (The Players)
Playing to Win: Chapter 15

Ace is…different tonight. His mood has shifted, and I can tell he’s a little drunk. And like I said to Derek earlier, he’s also somewhat in his feelings. Do those feelings have anything to do with me?

I’m thinking yes. Most definitely. And they’re all conflicted.

Great. Feeling’s mutual, bud.

He’d looked so down and out when I first spotted him sitting at the table. The moment he noticed me, though, his eyes lit up. His entire face brightened and I knew then.

He was sad because I hadn’t shown up yet. He thought I was going to be a no-show. And while I shouldn’t look too much into it, this guy was most definitely just feeling low because he thought I was going to reject him. I’d bet big money women don’t reject him. I mean…

Look at him.

What rational woman would reject him?

Me. I almost did. I’m still kind of rejecting him at this very moment. Though I don’t know if I’d qualify as rational…

Now he’s got his fingers on my throat, skimming my skin, making me shiver as he stares at my mouth like he wants to eat it and I don’t know want to say. Don’t know what to do.

He’s much easier to handle when he’s Mr. Casual Flirtation, which is his normal mode of operation around me. And I’m cool with that. I’m fine with it. I can walk away from him with zero regrets, chalking up his behavior to casual flirtation.

Tonight, he’s edgier. A lot more intense. And all of that intensity is currently focused on me.

I don’t know how to handle it. Handle him.

I’m just wasting my time and his anyway. This is going nowhere.

Absolutely nowhere.

“I-I need a drink,” I say, suddenly flustered.

He removes his hand from my neck and I immediately miss his possessive touch. He hands me a bottle of beer and I take it from him, offering a murmured thank you before I take a big swallow. It’s cool and fizzy and while I’m not the biggest beer fan, it’ll do in a moment of crisis.

And right now, that’s what this feels like. But not like in a bad way, oh no. More in a, oh my God, what are we doing way?

“You never did answer my question.”

I frown. “What question?”

“The shirt? Is it a secret message?” He reaches out, his index finger drawing over the giant D on my shirt and I feel that touch right down to my very core.

It helps that I’m not wearing a bra. And that his finger just basically flicked across my nipple by accident, making it hard.

And, of course, he notices immediately, his gaze lifting to mine, his blue eyes stormy.

“Sorry,” he whispers, not sounding sorry at all.

Just before he does it again. Proving he is one hundred percent not sorry.

“Ace…”

“Is it a secret message to anyone?” He streaks his finger across the front of my shirt, from my right breast to my left and my mouth goes dry.

“No.” I croak, shaking my head. “I just wear shirts like this for fun.”

“Without a bra?” His brows lift.

“Sometimes. Like tonight.” I hate bras. And my boobs aren’t that big so I can get away with it, which I do often. Bras are such a hassle and sometimes even painful. Why can’t we go braless all the time?

“I shouldn’t have touched you like that.” He drops his hand, and I’m sad at the loss. “I overstepped your boundaries.”

Right now, I want to toss any boundaries I might have aside completely for him to touch me like that again. I’ve been fixated on those hands for a while now and I want to feel them on me.

“You didn’t know I wasn’t wearing a bra?” I sound like I don’t believe it, because I don’t.

I mean, come on, he had to have known.

“I don’t think I did.” His smile reminds me of the one you’d see on a boy who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or on a woman’s boob.

I back away from him slightly, reaching for my beer. “I really hope you didn’t drive yourself here.”

“I did.” He’s frowning. “What does it matter?”

“Because you, Ace Townsend, are drunk. And you shouldn’t drive.”

He sags against the seat, his expression downright forlorn. “You’re right. I can’t drive.”

I nod, sipping from my beer. It’s already a little too warm and kind of gross. “Have Derek take you home.”

“Have me do what?” Derek asks, butting his head in between us. Lord, he has a big face.

“You need to drive your friend home.” I wave my beer bottle at Ace. “He’s wasted.”

“Can’t,” Derek says, withdrawing himself from our conversation.

And that’s it. There’s no explanation, no reason given. Just a simple, can’t.

“He’s a shit friend,” I tell Ace.

“Yeah, he is.” Ace nods in agreement. “Did you drive here?”

“I did.”

“Then you can drive me home.” He smiles.

Oh. That sounds…

Complicated.

He crowds me, blocking my view of the bar so all I can see is him. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Um, not really?” I’m not ready to leave just yet. “I’d like to finish my beer first.”

“Oh yeah.” He’s smiling that smile again, the little boy one. It’s a little crooked. A lot sweet. He’s adorable. His earlier intensity has worn off him some and I’m a little relieved. Only because it—he—is a lot to handle. “Hurry up then.”

So impatient.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I’m more of a sipper.” I shrug, trying to play coy as I purposely take another small sip of my beer. I think about what he did to me only a moment ago. The way his fingers curved around my throat. My chin. God, I liked it way too much when he did that. That secret little kink of mine I usually keep buried deep inside is flaring to life and my body is hoping it’ll happen again.

No guy has ever done that to me before unless I asked him to, and even then, not a single one of them was comfortable with it. Which made me uncomfortable making the request so I stopped.

It’s not like I was begging them to choke me, but I guess I sort of was?

I might be a complete deviant, but I loved the way Ace grabbed my face without asking. My neck. Like he wants to claim me. As if he might already own me.

I wanted to melt, it felt so good.

“A sipper, huh?” he asks, his gaze shifting to my bottle of beer. He stares at it hard, as if he’s mentally trying to empty it and I almost laugh.

“Can I ask you a question?” I smile at him, pressing my back against the booth seat when he leans forward, his face practically in mine.

“Go for it,” he murmurs, his gaze now zeroed in on my mouth. He’s staring so hard, my lips are tingling and it almost feels like he’s actually kissing me.

“It’s a personal question.”

“My favorite kind.” His voice is smooth, the look in his eyes…

Smoldering.

I swallow down my nervousness, hoping he won’t judge me once he hears what I have to say.

“Do you ever do that hand thing when you’re…having sex?”

He frowns, his brows drawing together in confusion. “What hand thing?”

“Like how you put your hand around my face and around my…neck.” I can feel my cheeks grow warm and what little confidence I had to ask the question vanishes in a flash.

I wish I hadn’t said that out loud. What’s he going to think?

His gaze locks with mine, his expression serious. “You like that sort of thing?”

I nod, breathless. No longer able to speak.

“I don’t really remember doing that to a woman before. Sexually.” He’s frowning, seemingly lost in thought. “Like I don’t think ever.”

“You did it earlier. To me.” His frown deepens. “At practice. You touched my face. Curled your fingers around my chin and tipped my face up.”

“Oh yeah?” He lifts his brows.

“Uh huh.” My mind goes back to that moment. The way all the air stalled in my lungs when he did it. The pressure of his warm, rough fingers on my skin…

“Like this?” He reaches for me, holding my chin with his index finger and thumb, tilting my face up. His finger streaks slowly across my skin, like he’s savoring touching me, and I want to die, it feels so good.

“Yes,” I whisper, my eyes falling closed when he slips his fingers under my jaw, streaking them down my throat, his touch featherlight. He pauses at my collarbone, just above the neckline of my T-shirt and I can feel my nipples beading into hard, aching points beneath the fabric.

All from him barely touching me. As if he knows exactly what I want, and how I want it. His fingers are light, yet exert enough pressure that I know he’s there. That he has the power to crush me.

But he never would. Ever.

His lips kick up on one side in a closed-mouth smile as we continue to stare at each other. “You’re a dirty girl, Red.”

“What do you mean?” I can’t even take offense to him calling me dirty because I think he’s right.

I think I might be.

“Getting off on me putting my hand around your throat.” He then drifts his fingers upwards, all four of them pressed against my neck, his thumb coming up to trace along my jaw. “You like this?”

A sigh escapes me and I practically melt into the seat. When Ace’s hand falls away from my neck, I miss his touch so bad, I physically ache from the loss. I’m reaching for my beer, drinking as much as possible, because I remember I told him I wanted to finish my beer first.

And now I’m desperate to finish it so we can get out of here.

Together.

“You two look cozy.”

We both glance over at Derek, who’s watching us with a suspicious gleam in his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” I say at the same time that Ace admits, “She’s driving me home.”

Derek’s gaze jumps between us, his smile sly. “If Knox were here, he’d lose his shit.”

“Well, he’s not here, is he,” I say, sounding vaguely bratty, but I don’t care. “And what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Ace says in agreement.

Derek watches us for a moment. Silently assessing. Then he shakes his head, chuckling. “You kids are on your own. I said my piece.”

He turns his back to us, resuming his conversation with another team member who’s sitting next to him and I breathe a sigh of relief, glancing over at Ace.

“Where’s Nat?” Ace asks me, taking a sip from his beer.

“Nat? Oh, she had to work.” She was beyond excited that Ace asked me to meet him here because all she wants is for me to get laid and have fun, which I appreciate.

It’s what I want too, but with Ace?

I might be walking into a situation that’ll be tough for me to get over.

“That’s too bad,” he murmurs, his focus on the sweating beer bottle sitting on the table in front of him. He shreds the damp label with his fingers, peeling it off, and the more I stare at his hand, the more I start to squirm, imagining those fingers touching me everywhere.

Specifically, between my legs.

Clearing my throat, I try to clear my brain of all dirty thoughts lingering. I need to change the subject, fast.

“Are you feeling all right?” When he frowns, I explain myself more. “After you took that hit at practice?”

He makes a dismissive noise, leaning against the seat once more. “Oh yeah. That was no big deal.”

Athletes. They blow off any sort of injury all the time. Knox hurt himself a few years ago and told all of us he was fine. Yet in the end, he needed surgery. Because of course he did.

“Are you sure? How’s your head?”

“You wanna play nurse for me, Red? Make sure I’m feeling okay?” He’s teasing, his eyes sparkling and I can imagine tucking him into bed. Just before I slip in between the sheets and maul him. Take care of his…other needs.

And my own.

Okay, I am not one to just wallow in my dirty thoughts but being this close to him and all the innuendo in our conversation, has me fantasizing about him putting his hands on me again…

It’s got me thinking all sorts of thoughts. None of them proper.

“Is that your kink?” He sits up straighter at my question and I carry on. “Seeing me in a nurse’s uniform, my skirt so short you can see my panties every time I bend over?”

His eyes flare with heat. “I didn’t know it was a kink of mine but I like the image you just put in my brain.”

I start to giggle. I can’t help it. “I bet you do.”

“I figured you were the type to not wear panties.” I go still when our gazes lock yet again. “Since you’re not a big fan of bras.”

“Oh.” I swallow hard.

He grins. “That’s all you can say? Oh?”

I nod, struggling to replace words.

“Well, I much prefer the image of you bending over me wearing no panties at all.” He grins, seeming very pleased with himself. “You have a great ass.”

My cheeks go hot. “Um, thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” His gaze shifts to my neglected beer bottle on the table. “You done with that yet?”

I clear my throat again. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m dying to leave with you.” He tips his head toward mine, his voice lowering. “Get you alone.”

“Yeah?” I feel stupid, but it’s like I can’t come up with anything else to say.

“Unless you don’t want to do that. And if that’s the case, it’s cool.” He leans back, spreading his arms across the top of the booth, his fingers drifting back and forth across my shoulder, making me shiver. “It’s completely up to you, Red.”