Playing to Win (The Players)
Playing to Win: Chapter 17

He’s got his hand around my throat and I should probably be terrified. He whispers in my ear and his voice is almost menacing, which is such a contradiction from how Ace is perceived by everyone else.

Including me.

He’s the easygoing guy. The friendly, flirty, hot football player.

But in this moment, there’s nothing easygoing about Ace.

I’m still surprised that I’m even here. I know how these guys operate. Football players. Athletes in general. Bringing a woman back to their apartment is usually a no-no because it could lead to bigger expectations. Like a woman thinking they could become something serious.

And none of them want serious. Especially Ace.

I don’t want serious either—not with Ace. I can’t be serious with this man, but the way he’s currently touching me, how he kissed me?

I want more. More of him.

Every bit of him I can get.

“Everything, huh?” His hand slips from my throat and I want to cry out at the loss. But he makes up for it by slowly sliding his hand down the front of my chest, catching my nipple between his fingers. He gives it a quick pinch, and even through the fabric of my T-shirt, it sends a stinging sensation that lands right between my thighs, pulsating. A delicious reminder that leaves me all fluttery and breathless.

“Uh huh.” My voice is shaky as his fingers toy with the hem of my T-shirt before he tunnels his hand beneath the fabric, his fingertips brushing the underside of my left breast.

“Like, this?” He cups my breast fully, his thumb drawing slow circles around my nipple, and I nod, letting a whimper escape.

The sound seems to encourage him because the next thing I know, the shirt is shoved up to my chin and he’s staring at my naked chest, a rough sound leaving him that makes my knees weak.

“Jesus, Red. You’re perfect.”

I’m about to protest, about to deny his compliment, but when he wraps his lips around my nipple and gives it a tug, my brain shuts off and I can’t form any words. A strangled sound leaves me instead, my hands coming around the back of his head, fingers sliding into his soft hair to hold him in place. He sucks and licks and pulls, his tongue working the hard bit of flesh, and I’m grateful I’m braced against the door or else I’d be on the floor. Too weak to stand.

Too overcome to think.

Oh wait. Pretty sure I’m already there.

He lavishes my other breast with the same focused attention and all I can do is take it, my fingers buried in his hair, clutching him to me. His hands are on my waist, his fingers splayed, like he wants to touch as much of my skin as he can possibly reach, and I realize I’m in big trouble.

This guy is going to ruin me.

I just know it.

His hands slide down farther and he lifts away from my chest, his palms sliding around my hips and over my ass, urging me up. I go with his silent command and he lifts me, my legs automatically winding around his hips, bringing my core to rest directly on his erection. And oh yes, he’s gloriously hard.

My God, he’s big.

He rubs me against him, his mouth replaceing mine once more, devouring me completely, and I let him. I bask in the way he kisses me, his hands on my butt, his cock nudging against me over and over, my entire body a mass of tingles. He pins me to the wall and ends the kiss, pulling away slightly.

I open my eyes to replace him studying me, his expression intense. Downright thunderous. I’m on total display, vulnerable and open to him with my shirt shoved up and my chest exposed. I can tell from the heat emanating from his gaze that he likes what he sees but still.

It’s a little unsettling.

“We need to get rid of this,” he mutters, and a thrill runs through me when he tugs at the shirt. I help him take it off, a moan leaving me when he runs his mouth across the top of my breasts, worshiping my skin with his mouth.

A girl could get used to this kind of treatment, especially one who hasn’t had sex with anyone else in a long time.

That would be me. It’s been forever and maybe I’m just primed and ready for action because it’s been so long, but I don’t know.

I think it might be him. And the way he touches me.

“Come on.” His hands shift beneath my ass, holding me tighter. “Let’s go to my room.”

I don’t say a word, just let him carry me through the dark apartment, clinging to him. I sling my arms around his neck, my face pressed against it and I breathe in the spicy scent of his cologne, the clean smell of his skin. He carries me like I don’t weigh a thing, and I wonder why I haven’t hooked up with any athletes before.

It’s true. I avoid them for the most part because they’re such a part of my life that I think I subconsciously sought out someone different. But here I am, wrapped around a football player, impressed by his strength. He makes me feel small and dainty and completely protected and I can’t lie.

It’s hot.

Everything he does is hot.

Once we’re in his bedroom, I barely have a chance to lift my head and check things out before he’s depositing me on the bed and following right after me, his big body pressing me into the mattress. His mouth replaces mine for a quick, tongue-sweeping kiss before he ends it, reaching across me to flick on the lamp that sits on the nightstand, the room illuminated with soft, warm light.

“I like to look,” he explains before he rises above me and gets rid of his shirt.

I practically swallow my tongue at the sight of his chest and abs so close, suddenly grateful he turned on the light.

Seems I like to look too.

His mouth returns to mine and I lose myself in the sweep of his tongue. The sting of his teeth tugging on my lower lip. His hands are wandering all over my body, big and hot and with slightly rough fingertips that leave a trail of sparks wherever he touches me. I rest my hands on his broad shoulders, my fingers curling around the muscles there, marveling at how hard he is, clinging to him.

There’s not an ounce of body fat on this man and that leaves me feeling more than a little intimidated. And while I’m usually pretty confident when it comes to this sort of thing—messing around with a guy—I can’t help the self-doubt that slowly washes over me. I’m not what I would call at peak physical fitness, meaning my belly is a little soft from too many late-night pizza deliveries with Natalie because we’re always hungry around midnight.

And when his fingers drift across my stomach, I’m suddenly batting his hand away, thinking of how bloated I felt last night, blaming it on how much salt I consumed.

He ends the kiss, lifting up so he can look into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” I bite my lower lip, feeling stupid. “Nothing.”

He’s frowning. “What is it, Ruby?”

I sort of miss hearing him call me Red, which is silly. “You’re just—really muscular.”

He grins, and I’m sure he’s pleased I noticed. How could I not? “I work out every single day for hours. I should be muscular.”

“Well, I’m not. I eat pizza. And Subway, which I’ve heard they don’t even use real bread. Not that bread is good for you. It’s not. And I drink too much Diet Coke. Oh God, and I have a total sweet tooth. Did you know that? I can bake a mean chocolate chip cookie, though I’m guessing you don’t eat them.”

He’s smiling, and the glow in his eyes is downright tender as he studies me. “I love chocolate chip cookies.”

“Do you eat them right now? During football season?”

“Not if I can help it,” he admits.

“See, that’s the problem. I eat too many. I eat raw dough too.” The horror. Why haven’t I died of food poisoning or whatever? “I’m gross.”

He chuckles. “You are the furthest thing from gross, Red.”

There it is. The nickname I thought I hated but really don’t. I smile at him. And he smiles at me, just as he shifts downward to press his mouth upon my skin, making me suck in a breath, forgetting all my troubles. He kisses my breasts. Licks and sucks my nipples until I’m clutching him to me again, writhing beneath him, my body needy, my mind growing hazy and unfocused. Until all I can think about is the pulsating between my thighs and how much I want him to touch me there.

I’m desperate for him to touch me there, but are we moving too fast?

Yeah, we’re definitely moving too fast. I gave him a big speech about dates and how many it takes before I’ll get naked with someone, yet here I am…

Meeting him for our non-date and letting him have his way with me. If he ditches me after this, I’m going to be so pissed.

He shifts lower, his mouth on my stomach, and I’m tempted to talk about my junk food diet again, but I remain quiet. Reminding myself that I need to let go of my insecurities. I should focus on the way he makes me feel so incredibly sexy.

And he does. He kisses the skin just above the waistband of my shorts, his fingers reaching for the button at the front. He lifts his head, his gaze questioning, and I nod before I overthink what’s about to happen.

He slides back up, his face in mine, his mouth returning to mine, and I get lost in his kiss, my mind vaguely comprehending that he is undoing the front of my shorts. Sliding the zipper down and spreading the fly open, his fingers barely brushing the front of my panties.

A jolt runs through me at first contact and I moan against his lips, immediately wishing he’d touch me more. As if he’s a mind reader, he slips his hand into the front of my shorts, pressing against my throbbing center, cupping me completely.

I break away from his still seeking lips to catch my breath, focusing on the way his fingers mold to my pussy, his middle finger pressing harder, parting me.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers at the same time he slides his fingers up, like he’s going to stop touching me, only for his hand to shift back downward, once again cupping me fully.

I don’t know what to say, so I just reach for him instead, pulling him down so our lips touch once more.

He continues rubbing, pressing against me, making me shiver and moan. And when he slides those magical fingers beneath my panties and touches my bare flesh, his thumb brushing my clit, I almost shoot off the bed, it feels so good.

His mouth never leaving mine, we kiss and kiss, my hips moving with his hand, his thumb strumming my clit. He slips a finger inside me and oh my God, that feels good too. It all feels so good.

I’m already close.

It takes maybe another minute of his continuous attention to my throbbing clit and I’m coming, my body shaking as the delicious waves take over me. I break away from his kiss, lost in the sensations sweeping over me and when it’s finally over, I lie there for a moment, trying to catch my breath.

Ace kisses my forehead. My temple. My cheek, while slowly removing his hand from between my thighs. I cuddle close to him, overwhelmed with exhaustion. He wraps his arms around me, tucking me into him, and press my face against his chest, thinking I could fall asleep so easily like this…

And I do.