“Stay away from me.”
Do I detect a quiver of unease in his voice?
“I’m serious, kitten.”
Kitten? Meow.
“Promise me.”
When I don’t answer he turns and storms out of the coffee shop.
I’ve got him right where I want him. The bad news for him? I never do what I’m told.
Chapter Six
Spider
Our team drags ass to the showers after a killer training session. Emery’s obviously getting to her dad in ways that don’t include me because he was in a foul fucking mood. Practice went two hours over, and half the team ended up puking on the sideline.
The hot water is heaven on my fatigued muscles, and I plan to eat my weight in carbs as soon as the nausea wears off.
Carey stands at the spigot next to mine. “Rowan told me you ran into Emery at Bean Madness.”
I drop my chin to my chest allowing the water pressure to pound against my neck.
“You need to leave her alone, man. If coach finds out—”
“I know.” I’m fucking trying. Everywhere I look I see her. Between classes, in the commons, I swear she’s following me. “I’m trying.”
“What do you mean you’re trying? Just do it.”
If it were only that easy.
I wish I’d never met Emery Brawley. I wish the night she approached me in the bar, wearing that conservative black dress, that I’d have brushed her off as a basic, uptight bitch. I wish I never saw the flicker of danger in her eyes, never tasted the rebel that lives beneath her librarian exterior. I wish like hell I could erase the memory of the filthy things she whispered in my ear while I pounded her into her floral bed sheets.
But I can’t.
She’s bad for me—an immoral indulgence wrapped in Sunday school teacher’s clothes. Her neurotic personality intrigues me. Am I too far gone, fallen so far that there’s no going back? Am I drunk on her deviancy that she’s tattooed on my insides now?
I finish with the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. Once at my locker I use my towel to dry my hair when a tension fills the room with muttered what the fucks. I turn around and my gaze snags on the source of the disruption.
Emery strolls through the room filled with a couple dozen naked men as if she’s leisurely browsing through Target.
“Whoa, sweetheart,” Kaipo says, stepping in front of her in nothing but a white towel. His enormous body blocks her path; she takes a moment to openly appreciate his physique. “You can’t be in here.”
She tips up her chin defiantly. “Says who?”
“Says common sense. It’s the men’s locker room. Or did you not see the sign on the door.” He’s teasing her.
I don’t like it.
“Oh, I saw it. I just don’t care.”
He stares at her for a silent moment before his booming laughter echoes through the concrete space. “All right then, honey.” He steps aside with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Come on in. If testicles make you squeamish, I’d keep your eyes high.”
“I appreciate the warning.” She sits on the bench in the middle of the room, all of us watching her with our towels held to our dicks. She takes a slow look around the space, not hiding her appreciation for the athletic bodies that surround her. Her gaze snags on mine and lingers until she eventually blinks away. “I don’t suppose any of you fine looking gentlemen would be interested in a date, would you?”
At least a dozen men pipe up with some variation of “Yes, fucking, please.” Some of them step closer to talk to her, clearly unaware she’s Coach Brawley’s daughter. My other roommate, Loren, holds his hand out to her. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of jeans open at the fly. She takes his hand and smiles hungrily up at him. He pulls her to her feet and with his free hand reaches out and touches her hair.
“Hands off.” The menacing tone in my voice surprises even me.
Loren aims a worried glance at me, removes his hands from her, and takes a step back. “Sorry, Spider.”
I ignore the punk, grab her by her elbow and drag her away from the group of drooling men into a sports medicine room with no windows. I slam the door, lock it, push her against the wall and cup her throat. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
She’s breathing heavy, her pulse rapid-fire against my palm, and a soft purr hums in her throat. “Getting your attention.”
I shove up into her space, pinning her to the wall with my terry-cloth-clad hips. “You got it. Now tell me what you want.”
She bites her lip and wiggles against me, drawing attention to my quickly hardening dick sandwiched between us. “I think you know.” Her gaze darts down and she smirks. “Feels like you want the same thing.”
“You want to fuck? Is that all this is?” I can feel her hot breath against my lips, her heaving breasts encased in starched cotton against my chest.
“Does there have to be more?” She smiles seeming to enjoy my reaction to her baiting.
“You want to use me to piss off your dad.”
She pushes my towel to the floor and grips my hard-on in a tight fist. “That’s not all I want to use you for.”
I hiss and roll my hips into her hand. “You want to play with me, kitten?”
“You want to play with me too. You won’t admit it, but your body screams it. I’m right, aren’t I, Theodore?”
Hearing that name from her lips is the ultimate pleasure-pain. I flex my fingers around her throat and a sigh falls from her parted lips. I rest my forehead against hers, breathing hard, pushing the filthy, demented sexual fantasies of the two of us together far from my head and yet they continue to flood my mind. “Yes.”
I don’t know who moves first, only that suddenly our mouths fuse together and her tongue slips eagerly against mine. She tastes of sin and peppermint, her lips promising redemption only to drag me further into damnation. A temptress, she licks into my mouth coaxing me to deepen the kiss while she rubs her soft body against me. The idea that I could’ve resisted her advances was nothing more than an illusion, a lie I told myself. I was helpless against her advances that first night in the bar, and I’m helpless against her now.
My breath catches when she bites hard on my lower lip. I rear back, grinning as the flavor of my own blood touches the tip of my tongue. “You’re dangerous.”
“You have no idea.”
“Coach is gonna have me shot.” I pant as she continues to stroke me.
“I’ll handle him.” She pushes up on her toes and kisses me gently. “Don’t you trust me?” Her tone is teasing.
“Not even a little.” This woman is unpredictable, and yet, her cunning has me aroused and captivated in the worst way.
“I should probably go.” She releases her hold on me and a frustrated growl bubbles up from my chest. She slips out from between me and the wall, moving to the door as I brace my weight and catch my breath. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight? Where—” The door closes behind her and I’m left alone, bare-ass naked with a nasty case of blue balls and my towel at my feet. After a series of deep breaths, I straighten up, wrap up as best I can, and storm out of the room.