Playing for keeps

Playing for keeps by Emma Hart


Dedication
This book is for my brother, John, who incidentally will never read it because of the sexy content. He likes to believe my daughter was delivered by the stork – just like my son will be – and that’s totally cool.
He is the guy who constantly tells everyone exactly what I’m doing and how successful I’ve been just because he’s proud. I always wanted to be him when I was growing up, but I definitely think I got the better end of the deal...
John, thank you for being the best role model and brother I could have asked for, and for being the support Dad would have been my whole life. I don’t tell you often, but I love you, bro.


Playing for Keeps (The Game, #2)



Chapter One – Megan
There’s always one decision in life we have to make that isn’t easy.
At nineteen, I’m ashamed to say the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make is whether or not to take advantage of the fact Braden isn’t here this weekend and do what I want to do.
What, or rather, who, I want to do, is sitting across the kitchen from me. He’s joking around with the guys like normal, his eyes casually flicking away whenever the usual bimbo walks past him. His lips curl into a slow, sexy smirk and he looks up at me as if he can feel my eyes on him.
His lips twitch slightly, one of his eyebrows moving upwards. His expression shows the cockiness he carries himself with, the cockiness shown in his relaxed pose on the chair. He scratches at his chin, questions in his eyes.
I raise my glass, pursing my lips as I suck on the straw. My foot taps in beat with the music pumping from the other room and I hold his steady gaze, asking him my own questions.
I know what I want to do – I want to be the girl he takes upstairs instead of the one watching him go. I just don’t know if one night will be enough. I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave it at just that.
I've been in love with him for three months, one week, five days, twenty hours, and thirty seven minutes – at least roughly.
I've never said a word. And I never plan to.
The smirk drops from his face, and I drag my eyes away from him. Kyle is caught up laughing with Lila and Kay halfway down the bar and instead of calling him over, I swirl the ice cubes in my empty glass with the straw.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I’d never come to Berkeley. I wish I’d gone somewhere else – somewhere Braden wasn’t. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to worry about him kicking someone’s ass just for looking at me. After all, didn’t I have enough of that in high school?
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you alone.” Aston’s voice crawls over me as he slips onto the stool next to me.
“It doesn’t happen often. I could say the same for you.” I turn my face slowly, finding his gray eyes.
“It doesn’t happen often,” he parrots, a half-smile forming on his face.
“So why are you here and not in a dark corner with your usual company?”
“Ouch, Megan. Is that a hint of bitterness in your voice?”
“Disgust,” I mutter, looking away from him. “Don’t confuse it, Aston.”
“I think you’re fooling yourself,” he remarks. He leans in a bit closer to me, his knees brushing against mine. “Ten minutes, Megan.”
I shake my head slightly as he gets up and disappears behind me. Kyle wordlessly removes my glass and refills it.
“You’re quiet tonight.” He leans against the bar opposite me.
“It happens on occasion.” I smile.
“Odd without Maddie and Braden here, huh?”
I shrug a shoulder. “A bit. At least all their shit is sorted out meaning the rest of us can get on with our lives.”
Kyle snorts. “Right. Braden took every guy in this house down with him when she went back to Brooklyn. It was like living with a woman with PMS – I moved away from home to get away from that.”
“Should try being around guys that don’t get laid enough,” I comment dryly.
He smirks. “None of those around here.”
“Probably right about that, actually.”
“You look like you need to get laid.”
“Just as I was starting to think you were a nice guy, you go and blow it by saying that.” I roll my eyes. “You all are the same.”
“Hey, I’m just saying.” He leans forward, grinning. “I bet you wouldn’t be short of offers, especially without the caveman here.”
I bite the corner of my lip, fighting my smile. “The caveman thing is really sticking, huh?”
“You have no idea.” Kyle’s eyes twinkle.
Why can’t I want him instead? He’s not bad looking with his unruly dark hair and hazel eyes. He’s built well enough – not showy in the way Braden is, but he’s obviously built. He’d be a great distraction – if I wasn’t already so distracted by Aston.
I down the rest of my drink and drop the glass on the side. “Tell Lila I’ll see her tomorrow. I’m heading back to the dorm room.”
“Got it.” Kyle nods and turns away.
I glance around quickly and scoot from the kitchen. Paranoia attaches itself to me as I push my way through the living room to the stairs, and I run my fingers through my hair. I tug at the bottom of my dress, climbing the final staircase to Aston’s room.
Tonight I’m taking a risk. A big risk.
A hand grabs at my arm and spins me so my back pushes against the wall. My shriek is swallowed by the mouth that covers mine, my attempt at kneeing the person grabbing me thwarted by his own swift movements.
“You’re not being attacked,” Aston mutters against my mouth. “Unless you want it.”
I open my eyes. “You’re a pig.”
“Yet you’re here.”
“Apparently,” I say quieter, dropping my eyes.
His hand cups the side of my head and his fingers thread through my hair, tugging my face upwards a little. His lips touch mine again, and my eyes shut. I slide my hands up his arms to his neck where I grip his collar, pushing my body against his. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and sweeps his tongue across it, sending tremors down my spine.
Aston reaches around me and slots the key into his door. He shoves it open, his hand trailing down my back. I allow him to pull me into his room and he kicks aside some clothes on the floor, slamming the door behind me.
He yanks my body against his, and I feel his breath fan across my lips. My eyes drop to his mouth, closing as our lips meet again. He snakes a hand around me and cups my ass, holding me against him.
I move a hand from his collar to his waist, the shoulder of my dress falling and exposing my bare skin. My fingers creep below his polo shirt onto his hot skin. I spread my fingers out, my thumb brushing the solid muscle on his stomach. He releases me for a second, pulls his top over his head, and searches my face.
I run my bottom lip between my teeth as my eyes run down his torso. I've seen guys shirtless before, even him, but up-close he's beautiful. His chest is solid, but not overly obvious. The small shadows in the indents between the small packs are like a light engraving on his skin. I have no idea how he’s so cut because the only sport I've ever seen him play is the casual football games in the yard.
But in this moment, I don't care.
I step forward and lightly touch my mouth to his chest. He cups the back of my head and kisses my earlobe, running his lips down my neck and across my bare shoulder. My hands tremble as they run across the bottom of his back. One of his hands brushes my breast, and I whimper against his skin.
His hands slip down my body with ease, the hem of my dress bunching in his hands as it’s pulled up my body. He pulls it over my head, and we move towards his bed together.
I fall back onto it and he rips off his jeans, leaning over me. He presses into my thigh, hard and ready, and I hook my other leg around his waist, my mouth finding his. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I flick mine out against his. He groans quietly, his grip tightening on me. His tongue sweeps my mouth, tasting every corner of it, and his hair tangles around my fingers as I hold him to me. His hands probe up my body, massaging my skin, loosening my muscles, raising goose pimples. My stomach muscles clench and I can feel everything in my body shooting downwards, needing him.
I groan a little, half in frustration, half in wanting, and he growls, dragging his mouth down the length of my body. His lips move across my skin, his tongue swirling in tiny circles as he goes. His fingers hook in the sides of my panties and he pulls them off in a swift movement. His hand stays down when his mouth travels back up, and at the first feel of his fingers sliding across my *, my hips buck and my breathing quickens. His thumb moves in quick little circles, and I arch my back, pressing into him.
Aston sucks on my neck slightly, his breathing heavy, and my muscles tense. I can’t help the moan that leaves my mouth or the beg for more in his ear. I can’t stop the sweat that covers my body or the undeniable feeling of pleasure that sweeps my body like a tsunami.
His hand leaves me and he fumbles in a drawer. He rips a condom packet open with his teeth and rolls it onto himself.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispers huskily against my ear as he positions himself against me. I tilt up my hips, inviting him. He slides into me and I gasp, digging my fingers into his back. “So. F*cking. Bad, Megan.”
I squeak and scratch down his back. Slickness forms between our bodies, and we slide against each other, me feeling every flex of his hips inside me.
“Now you have me,” I pant out.
He holds me against him, his fingers digging into my back, and lets out a long, shaky breath that’s nothing like the Aston I know. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I have you.”