Playing Hard to Get (The Players)

WE MOVED from the wall to his bedroom, Knox walking me backward down the hall, his fingers tracing my cheek, his mouth nibbling at mine. I could kiss him for hours. Days. Weeks.

Months.

He’s good at it. Comes at it from different angles. Uses different speeds with his tongue. Fast. Slow. Teasing. Thorough.

I don’t know which way I like the most.

We’re standing in the middle of his bedroom when he ends the kiss, his eyes glowing as he studies me. “Let’s move to the bed.”

His voice is so gravelly and deep, it’s as if it reverberates in my soul, making me tremble. I rest my hand on his chest, checking his heartbeat. It’s fast. Almost erratic.

My gaze drops lower, taking in his erection. I felt it earlier, when he had me pinned against the wall with his hips, and a trickle of fear slides through me, making me bite my lower lip.

That thing is intimidating. I can’t lie. Bryan is the only guy I’ve had sex with, and his dick was average-sized. I’ve watched enough porn to know what’s big, what’s small, and what’s your regular, run-of-the-mill dick.

What Knox is packing isn’t even close to average. It’s long and thick and could possibly do bodily damage if I’m not properly prepared.

From the way he’s just kissed me for the past twenty minutes, I’m thinking he knows just how to prepare me, so that’s reassuring.

“Jo Jo? You cool with that?” He brushes my hair away from my face as I tilt my head back, my gaze meeting his. I blink up at him and he frowns. “If you want to stop, tell me. I won’t push.”

I shake my head. No way do I want to stop.

His frown deepens. “Then what is it?”

I blurt out the first thing I think of. “Haven’t you made a vow of celibacy?”

“Shit.” His hand drops from my hair, and I immediately miss his touch. “Yeah. When I’m with you, I forget all about that.”

That’s a sweet confession, but…

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Messing around with you isn’t messing with my practices.”

“And how’s school going?”

“Jesus, woman. That is the last thing I want to talk about.” He hauls me toward him almost roughly, his mouth on mine. It’s an aggressive kiss. Possessive. Like he’s trying to make me forget about all of those responsibilities we have, so we can focus solely on each other.

And it’s working. I forget all about homework and celibacy vows and what people might think if they knew we were together right now. He consumes me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, his hands gripping my hips. I let him, drowning in his taste, his possessiveness. No one has ever kissed me like this.

Not even Bryan.

The kiss is raw and hot and maybe even a little filthy, his tongue insistent. I’m moaning, circling my arms around his neck, rising on tiptoes to get closer to him. His erection rubs against my stomach, hard and insistent, and I gasp when he grabs hold of me and whirls me around, depositing me onto his bed.

I land on the mattress with a bounce, sitting up so I’m perched on the edge of the bed. I watch as he tears off his hoodie, revealing that he wasn’t wearing a T-shirt underneath. Meaning, I’m staring at nothing but pure, defined muscle.

My mouth goes dry as I take him in. His broad, smooth shoulders and his defined pecs. There’s a tiny bit of golden-brown hair between them that matches the color on his head, and a tease of a trail that leads from his navel and disappears beyond the waistband of his jeans.

And then there are his abs.

Holy. Shit.

“You’ve got a six-pack.”

He glances down at himself before meeting my gaze once more. “It’s actually an eight-pack, but yeah.”

Good lord.

“I cannot compete.” I wave a hand toward him, my fingers wiggling in the air. “With this.”

“What do you mean?”

I have stretchmarks and a hint of cellulite on the back of my thighs. Sometimes after I eat, I get bloated, and I look like I’m pregnant. Bryan even asked me that once the summer after our freshman year in college, after we went and had all-you-can-eat pasta at a local Italian restaurant one night for dinner. The panic in his eyes and his voice would’ve been amusing, if I hadn’t felt so freaking insulted.

“I don’t work out,” is all I say, rather than going on a word-vomit rant about my lack of muscles and the fact that I eat too much, thanks to my sweet tooth.

“You look pretty damn good to me.” He scans me from head to toe, and even in my distress, my skin blooms with heat at the hunger in his gaze.

“I have cellu—”

He cuts me off. “You really think I’m checking for flaws when I finally get you naked?”

His question leaves me flustered, which I think is all part of his plan. He really wants to get me naked? “Maybe—”

“No.” He shakes his head, his voice hard. “I don’t.”

Well. I can’t argue with that.

He’s on me in seconds, gently pushing me backwards so I’m lying on the bed. He straddles my hips, his face above mine, his hands resting on either side of my head. I’m completely surrounded by him, all of that delicious heat and those hard muscles, his gaze zeroed in on me and no one else, and it’s overwhelming, having Knox Maguire singularly focused on me.

On top of me.

“When I get you naked, Joanna, all I care about is seeing every inch of you. Touching your beautiful body.” He kisses my neck, his lips warm and damp. I close my eyes, lost in the sensations his busy mouth stirs within me.

I rest my hands against his shoulders, tipping my head back, swallowing hard when that mouth shifts lower, kissing across my collarbone. “You can’t get me naked.”

“Why the fuck not?” He murmurs the words against the tops of my breasts, his tongue dipping into my cleavage.

“It goes against your vow.” My voice is weak. So is my resolve. It will take nothing for him to talk me into doing whatever he wants.

His mouth settles on mine and he inhales, both of his lips catching around my top lip, tugging lightly. “The celibacy shit is stupid.”

Before I can say a word, he deepens the kiss, leaning his weight more fully on me, pressing me into the mattress. He’s heavy, but it feels good. He’s solid. Real.

Sexy.

I wrap my arms around his neck, sinking my fingers into his hair, stroking the soft strands. I can’t stop touching his hair. It’s so soft compared to the rest of him. Soft as his lips, which are currently destroying me, one kiss at a time. I spread my legs wider, allowing him to settle more firmly against me, and I can feel his erection nudge against my stomach.

It’s a thrill, knowing I make him hard. Knowing that he’s hard for me. I’m not the first woman to be in Knox’s bed, definitely not the first one to give him an erection—I’m not that delusional.

But I’m pretty sure I’m the first one he can’t stop thinking about. The one he can’t get enough of.

The one he comes back to, again and again.

He slips his hand beneath my shirt, his fingers traveling up higher until they’re curving over the front of my bra. Brushing across one breast, then the other, feathering up and down over my hardening nipples. His mouth never leaves mine as he keeps touching me, his tongue thrusting in the same rhythm as his hips as he rocks against me. I spread my legs wider, winding them around his hips, desperate for more friction, more everything. My pants are thin, and my core on fire because I can feel all of him. He’s thick and long, nudging against my pussy every time he pushes forward.

“We should take this off.” He tugs on the hem of my shirt. Well, Nat’s shirt.

I drop my arms from his neck, raising them above my head to help with the removal of said shirt. He lifts up, staring down at me with heated eyes and swollen lips. Carefully, downright reverently, he pushes my shirt up. High. Higher. Until my bra is exposed and the fabric is bunched beneath my neck, reminding me of how he shoved my bra up earlier in the meeting room at the library.

That feels like a lifetime ago, and it was only earlier this afternoon.

“Lift up,” he murmurs, his voice dark and commanding, and I do as he says, throbbing between my legs at the hot blast of lust I see in his gaze.

He whips the shirt over my head, tossing it over his shoulder and making me smile at the casual way he threw it.

“That shirt cost a lot.”

“I’ll buy you another.” He’s staring at my chest, drifting his fingers up and down the shallow valley between my breasts.

“It’s not mine.” His gaze lifts to mine in question. “It’s Natalie’s.”

“If I ruined it, I’ll buy her another one. Pay her. Whatever she wants.” He toys with the bow in the center of my ivory satin and lace bra. “An innocent touch.”

“I’m not a virgin,” I remind him, immediately regretting it. I don’t know why I had to go there. Like I have something to prove to this guy, that I’m sexually experienced and not some innocent, awkward girl.

Which makes it all even more awkward because these feelings are coursing through me. Like I could be considered inadequate in Knox’s eyes. I don’t have the experience other girls he’s been with might have. I’ve only ever been with one guy. Bryan and I lost our virginity together.

“I know you’re not.” He traces his index finger along the lacy edge of one bra cup, making me tremble. “I’m not either.”

I laugh and he smiles. “Oh, I know.”

“I had to say it.” He leans in, delivering a deep, soul-stirring kiss before he lifts away. “You just look so damn serious right now.”

“Sorry—” He presses his finger to my lips, silencing me.

“Stop apologizing. Maybe you should even stop talking.” His smile is faint. Playful. “Before you ruin the mood.”

I nod, knowing he’s just teasing me, so I don’t take offense.

Plus, he’s right. If I keep saying stupid stuff, I could ruin everything.

He doesn’t remove his finger, pressing it more firmly against my mouth and I part my lips, allowing him entry. I curl my tongue around his finger, licking just the tip before I wrap my lips around it tightly, sucking it in deep.

A heavy exhale leaves him and he pulls his finger from my mouth, drifting it across the top of my breast again, leaving a trail of wetness, tugging on the lace and satin until my breast pops out. Without hesitation, he leans in, his mouth finding my nipple, licking it like I did his finger before he pulls it into his mouth.

My hands land on the back of his head, holding him to me like he might try to stop. I keep my gaze on his face, fascinated by his busy mouth, thankful that a lamp was left on in his room, so I can see everything he does to me.

With Bryan, I was always too shy. I never wanted to watch…anything. There was a lot of fumbling in the dark, and I was okay with it. The darkness made me feel safe.

But with Knox, I want to see. I want to enjoy watching him do this to me. And I still feel safe, having this large man lying on top of me, feasting on my breasts, thrusting his hips against mine.

He tugs the other bra cup down, sucking and licking and nipping at my left breast, his constant and thorough attention making my breath hitch. He reaches behind me and I lift my back, giving him access, startled by how quickly he undoes the hook on my bra. The fabric springs free, sliding down my breasts, and I start to shrug out of it, but then Knox takes over, helping me slip it off.

And then I’m topless, lying there beneath him as he studies me. “You do have a tattoo.”

He sounds shocked.

“I got it the summer of 2020,” I admit, shivering when he drifts his finger over it. “That was a pretty tough time for everyone, you know.”

“’To live for the hope of it all.’” He lifts his gaze to mine, his brows lowered. “What’s that from? I recognize it.”

Oh God, maybe he is my dream man. “It’s from Taylor Swift’s song ‘August.’ It’s my favorite line she’s ever written.”

The line gives me hope. That we should live for everything life has to offer, not just a man, not just a career or friends or family. For every last bit of it.

“And how did you recognize it?” I ask, when he still hasn’t said anything, his focus still on the tattoo just below my right breast.

“I have sisters, remember?” His heated gaze lifts to meet mine, singing straight through me. “Can I be real with you right now?”

I love it when he’s real with me. “Please.”

“I kind of can’t believe this is happening.”

I frown at him. “What do you mean?”

“Earlier, you pretty much told me to go to hell.”

“You kind of deserved it,” I admit, squirming when he slowly slides down my body, his mouth racing over my stomach, tickling my skin and making me squirm.

“I did,” he agrees, just before his tongue dips into my navel, making me yelp. “Maybe I should keep my mouth shut.”

“But you promised to keep it hot and filthy.” I form my lips into a little pout when he glances up at me, his eyes growing darker.

Ooh boy. Just the look he’s shooting me is already hotter and filthier.

“You want hot and filthy?” When I nod, the look on his face sends a shiver racing down my spine. “Then I’ll give you hot and filthy.”