Filthy Player Page 6

  Paige would take what she got and make the most out of it. She’d squeeze the hell out of a pile of lemons and make the most delicious lemonade anyone had ever tasted.

  Plus, there were similarities that only people like us who had lived it would understand. “We have more in common than I thought we would,” I said, taking a heavy swig of my beer.

  I was feeling too damn much. Too hot. Too tight. My dick was throbbing in my jeans making me bite back a groan.

  “Because of your mom? What about your dad?”

  Few people were brave enough to ask about my family.

  Damn. I liked her. She didn’t play games, didn’t try to grab a leash and yank a man around. She just threw it out there, straight up. A girl who didn’t play mind-fucking games was refreshing.

  “I don’t know who he is. Mom told me before she passed she was working at a hotel, had a weak moment of feeling alone, and there was some guy there doing some celebrity charity golf tournament. One night, he wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’d her and nine months later,” I sat back and lifted my arms and grinned, “perfection was born.”

  “You’re so full of it.” She laughed. It was low and husky like her voice. More porn-sex phone operator than peppy cheerleader.

  My dick went hard again as I wondered what she’d sound like when I made her come.

  “So, how about I go see what’s taking our steaks so long and we get cooking?”

  ***

  Rain splattered the windshield so harshly it was difficult to see the roads.

  My new truck was getting quite the break-in as I drove through water-covered roads. Rain pinged against the metal truck it was difficult to speak over the noise.

  Regardless, we were still talking. We’d stayed at IronOar Steakhouse long after I’d planned on getting Paige home, but once we’d gotten past the hard crap of her life, we’d briefly spoken about mine. I told her all about Shannon and how she took care of me growing up. I told her how I wanted to punch Powell in the face for being a dick to her when they started dating, and I begrudgingly admitted I actually did like the guy and he was good for Shannon.

  She deserved to be happy and after a disastrous marriage of Powell’s, so did he.

  Still, most of the conversation was left light-hearted but deep. Paige told me about her jobs, that she worked at Ride’Em Rough at least four nights every week and sometimes picked up doubles on the weekends as long as she could find someone to help with her dad.

  She worked hard, too hard for someone barely twenty-four should have to, but I admired the hell out of her for doing whatever she could to take care of her family.

  It wasn’t just because she reminded me of my mom or my sister, or that I liked her tight ass and her husky laughs when she gave them, but because the more she spoke, the deeper I fell.

  I hadn’t yet met a girl who made me think of settling down, and we were way too young in wherever this was going to think of something permanent, but I was a master at going with my gut.

  With Paige sitting next to me, jumping every time thunder boomed, clutching my hand a little bit tighter, my gut was telling me this girl could be the one.

  I’d played the field for the last decade not because I was afraid of settling down, but because I didn’t have time to think about a serious relationship. Hell, I hadn’t even really dated since high school. Hook-ups were easier, but I always made sure the woman I was with knew that going in.

  I had been too focused on my game, my career, being the best, and fighting to stay there to even consider a relationship.

  But now that I was settled and firmly entrenched in Raleigh, things were changing.

  Unfortunately, finding a woman who wanted me more than they wanted the zeros on my paycheck were hard to find once I signed a multi-million dollar contract.

  Money brought out crazy shit in people. It turned them into monsters with dollar signs in their eyes. I learned early to stay far away from anyone who exhibited signs.

  None of them came close to comparing to the ease of sitting next to a pretty girl in my brand new truck not even bothering to hide the fact she was afraid of a little thunderstorm.

  “You don’t like storms I take it?” She squeezed my hand again and thank God I was strong. My knuckles had cracked more than once since she’d tightened her grip.

  “I don’t like instability. It’s never been my thing and I always think if the atmosphere can become so unstable, what hope does that give for the rest of us?” She laughed softly, tucking a chunk of her hair behind her ear and turning to me. The grin she shot me burned straight to my chest. The heat from our connected fingers following straight behind. “That sounds stupid doesn’t it?”

  “Not coming from a girl who didn’t start off life having a lot of stability. Losing a parent, whether or not you become okay with it, changes you in ways that aren’t ever fixed, Paige.”

  “Gosh, it’s uncanny the way you understand me.” Her smile turned soft and she brought up her other hand to cover her yawn as she rested her head on the seat of my car. “I’m sorry, it’s late for me.”

  The GPS beeped, telling me to turn down her street. I focused on the road and pulled into her driveway, a short one that ended at a small carport so common in this area in smaller, older homes.

  I must have been grinning because over another yawn, Paige asked, “What’s so funny?”

  “Carports.” I shook my head. “So many things are different here and it still gets to me sometimes.”

  “Like car ports?”

  “Yeah. And these storms y’all have all the time. Plus the fact I just used y’all in a sentence. You southerners are rubbing off on me.”

  “Do you like living here?”

  “Can’t lie, living further north is all I’ve ever known. I miss the snow and the winters.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Snow?”

  “That. Minnesota. Iowa. How are they different?” She yawned again and I pulled my hand from hers and pressed it to her cheek.

  “Twenty inches of snow and we live like it’s a half-inch here. Nothing stops except a few hours to get the plows out. People either bunker down in the winter or spend it ice fishing, playing pond hockey, and in the summer, they live on their boats and their lakes. They’re the nicest people I’ve ever met, just without the y’all’s. I can also tell you’re exhausted and the last thing I want is to keep you out later than you should be, so how about I get you inside and we finish this another time.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Which means you also have to give me your number.”

  She fished out her phone, a faint pink coloring her cheeks. Damn, I liked it. Gone was all the hesitation she’d had with me before dinner. Somehow during dinner, I’d picked through whatever had held her back from being out with me, probably because I hadn’t been an ass.

  “I gotta tell ya,” she said around another yawn. Goddamn this girl needed more sleep. “It’s only nine, but I feel like it’s midnight. I swear, when I’m old, I’m totally going to rock the senior citizen life. Dinner at four-thirty, bath at six-thirty, in bed by seven-thirty. I’m ready for it.”

  I got stuck on the vision of her in a bath. Naked. Suds covering her breasts. Hair pulled up off her neck and some of it wet as it stuck to her skin. It would no doubt smell like peaches or strawberries, something sweet just like her.

  I texted my own phone from hers and gave it back to her. “I’ve got a busy week. What’s yours look like?”

  She squinted for a moment. “Work all weekend at the restaurant. Next week during the day I’ll be at the garage and then I’ve got Thursday and Sunday off from the grill.”

  “First game of the year is in Atlanta that Sunday.” Damn. I wanted to see her, but now that the season was starting and since she worked so much, it’d be that much harder. We’d be swamped up until the plane took off Saturday, spending this week of practice preparing and finalizing the starting line-up. “We’ll find our time to see each other soon. I
n the meantime, you want me, even if to say hi, call me.”

  She clutched her phone in her hand.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah really. Hold on.” I hopped out of my truck and ran around the front. Damn this monster was big. I dodged slamming my hip against the bumper and threw open her door, ushering her out and under the carport before we were soaked. “Told you I wanted to see you. And I like everything I see, Paige. You want to see me again?”

  “Yeah.” She grinned softly, eyes lighting up even in the poor lighting by her house. “I guess I’d like that. Thanks for dinner.”

  “Thanks for coming with me, even if I had to strong-arm and trick you into it.”

  Our hands were clasped together and she tugged on mine, pulling herself closer. Head tilted back, lips parted, she licked her bottom lip. I bit back a groan. Goddamn. She wore seduction like she wore her confidence—understated, but sexy as fuck in its simplicity. “It would probably boost your ego if I told you I was thinking of saying yes anyway, but all that stuff you did for my dad really did seal the deal.”

  “Yeah.” I slid my hand up her arm. I wanted to kiss her. Wanted to pull her into my arms and make out with her like a teenager. Hell, this felt like I was a teenager, dropping a girl off knowing her dad was inside — most likely with a loaded shotgun. This was the South. Everyone carried. I had no doubt Sam had a safe full of weapons he could destroy me with.

  Good thing he liked me.

  If I screwed his daughter against the side of his house on our first date that’d probably change.

  “Thanks for not being a jerk, tonight, Beaux.” She grinned again.

  Screw it. One kiss wouldn’t hurt. “I’ll always be nice to you,” I muttered, cupping her cheek and tilting my head. I moved slowly, let my intentions be known and was rewarded with a hazy look in her eyes giving me the all clear.

  Ah yeah, she wanted me.

  I gave it to her. Soft and slow, I brushed my lips over Paige’s. She trembled in my arms as I savored the taste of her. Little flicks of my tongue against hers and she parted her lips, inviting me inside, but I took my time kissing her lips, memorizing the silkiness of her hair against my fingers, the weight of her body in my arms.

  Her breath hitched, that little moan of hopeful pleasure I was waiting for hit my mouth. I slid my tongue inside. Our bodies melted together, her hands to my back, up and down, she held me, pressed her chest against mine. I forced my hips to stay still, not to rock my dick into her stomach, but the self-control hurt.

  She met my tongue, tangled hers in mine and I took over, pushing it back into her mouth. We were moving before I knew it and stopped when I had her against the siding of her house. She let out at a gasp, surprised, and I pulled back.

  Jesus Fuck. I really had almost screwed her against the side of her house.

  “Holy hell,” I mumbled. My grip on her head was firm, but not painful. “You’re really damn good at that.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “I need to let you go before I do something that’ll lose your dad’s respect.” Fuck if I wanted to though. I’d already spent a whole bunch of hours jacking off to the thought and the promise of Paige. Now that I’d had a small hint of that perfection, my dick craved the real thing.

  “Thanks again for dinner.”

  “Thanks for coming with me. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  I kissed her again and pulled back, both of us gasping for breath. I couldn’t get enough of her. One small taste and I was drowning.

  “Okay, Beaux.”

  I let go of her and stepped back. “Get some sleep. I mean it.”

  I turned, feeling like a victor at a gladiator match. Her matching smile was the last thing I saw as I pulled back down her drive and then her fingers went to her mouth, covering the taste of me on her lips, sealing me in.

  CHAPTER NINE

  PAIGE

  Annabelle was another no-show on Thursday and Paulie called me to come in to work. Since it was my only night off, Beaux and I had plans to go out for dinner. I’d thought about telling Paulie I couldn’t do it, but I’d received another physical therapy bill for my dad that morning.

  We needed the money and since Thursday was the first NFL game of the season, Ride’Em Rough was sure to be packed, I told him I’d be there.

  My fear had spiked when I called Beaux to cancel.

  But when I talked to Beaux, while he’d sounded disappointed, he also hadn’t sounded too upset. He at least hadn’t given me the brush off despite the fact I hadn’t seen him for a week. I’d been too busy with work and his schedule was packed while his team prepared for their first game.

  He’d leave for Atlanta on Saturday morning, play a game Sunday, get back Sunday night. Who knew when I’d see him again.

  Needless to say, despite the extra tips I was raking in, I wasn’t in the greatest mood while I was at work. The Tennessee Titans were playing and there were quite a few fans at Ride’Em Rough, shouting and drinking their weight in pitchers of beer. Some days I wondered if I’d ever be able to scrub the scent of stale beer off me.

  In addition to the packed restaurant, the table that I was currently bussing left me with a measly five dollars for a seventy-five dollar bill. My already poor mood was disintegrating by the second.

  I slammed my empty drink tray onto the stand and punched in orders for a table when Hannah came up next to me.

  “So who pissed in your corn flakes this morning?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Punch. Punch. Punch.

  “I know that if you stopped scowling and started smiling at all your tables filled with men you might make the money you came in for tonight.”

  “Forget it, Hannah. It’s just a crappy day.”

  Her hand went to my arm and she tugged me toward the back hallway. “Tell me what’s going on. Is it your dad?”

  I let her pull me, not wanting to cause a scene although no one was watching anything unless it was being broadcasted from one of our fifteen big screens. When we were in the hallway, I dropped the tray to my side.

  “Talk.”

  I was starting to really like Beaux. For the last week, we’d talked almost every night. Some times we just talked about his practice or what my day had been like at the garage. But he’d made an effort to connect with me in some small way daily, and I was totally falling for him.

  He consistently showed me he wasn’t the jerk he’d been the first night at Ride’Em Rough.

  But how many times could I cancel on him, when the amount of time we could see each other was already so minimal, before he walked away, too?

  I desperately needed someone to help me unravel the mess in my head.

  “You have to promise me not to freak out,” I said, making my voice as stern as possible. “And I mean it. No getting stars in your eyes. No excitement. Nothing.”

  “Okay,” she drawled. Darn. Her eyes were already twinkling.

  “I had a date last week and it went well.”

  “You did?”

  I pointed a finger at her. “I said no excitement. No freak outs.”

  “Right.” She nodded enthusiastically, not even trying to hide her smile. “No excitement.”

  I shook my head. It was pointless. “Okay, so Beaux came to the garage last week—”

  She jolted back. “Beaux? Beaux Hale? Are you serious?”

  “I’m warning you—”

  “I know,” she said and held up her hand. Her eyes stopped twinkling and narrowed. “Tell me everything.”

  I told her about Beaux coming to the garage, the gifts he gave my dad, four of the team members showing up with him, and then dinner and drinks. I told her about everything but the kiss.

  Some things were just for me.

  By the time I was almost done, her brows had almost disappeared into her hairline, her eyes barely in her sockets, and her jaw almost touching the floor.

  “You’re dating Beaux?” She shook her head like she couldn’t believe it
.

  “I wouldn’t say dating, Hannah.” I shrugged. I didn’t even know what we were. He was making it clear he was interested. I definitely was. Time together was a barrier I didn’t know how to conquer. “We only went to dinner once.”

  “So why you’d come in to work if you wanted to see him? If Beaux wanted to date me or spend time with me, or whatever” —she flicked out her hand —“I’d do everything I could to be with him.”

  “Because I have a mountain of bills to pay.”

  “But it’s Beaux.” Her voice took on a wispy tone. She didn’t understand.

  Frustration spiked in my veins. “And before Beaux there was Spencer. And John and Colton. All of them left when I couldn’t give the time they wanted, Hannah. I have other responsibilities, and my dad will always come first.”

  Damn it. My nose stung and the back of my throat burned. Thinking of all the rejection I faced was humiliating.

  I shouldn’t have started something with Beaux.

  “Maybe Beaux will be different,” she said, and she still had that wistful expression on her face. “I mean, he seems like such a great guy.”

  “He is,” I said.

  He was.

  He was playful and funny. He made me laugh until my stomach hurt. He was fiercely protective of Shannon and hilariously ridiculous in the way he made vomit sounds every time he talked about Shannon and Oliver Powell. He was also intense when he talked about football, totally focused. And he never failed to ask about my dad or Mike. “But you know, I always thought Spencer was a great guy too, the best, and look how that turned out.”

  I’d thought I loved him and he’d stomped all over it. And while I was over him, knew I had moved on from him, it didn’t mean his rejection and the subsequent ones hadn’t left their scars.

  “Who’s Spencer?”

  I jumped at the sound of Beaux’s voice and spun on my feet. He was there, standing behind me wearing jeans and a Nike T-shirt, and a hat pulled down low on his head.

  Blond wisps of his hair stuck out from beneath the hat and that, along with the surprise of seeing him and the scowl on his face, sent my heart racing.