Page 18 of Dirty Player

It was the only reason I was silent.

I wanted him to kiss me. To feel his mouth on mine and to feel his tongue sweep inside and make me weak in the knees one more time.

I hate myself for still desiring Levi.

Especially when he clearly despises me.

He’s just assumed I kissed Colby, and that’s that. What sort of relationship would it be if he can’t communicate?

What a lucky escape.

Liar. You wish you could turn back time and not go to the party. To have him slip inside your bed when he got home and thrust his thick, long cock inside you. While whispering in your ear that you’re his kitten.

I don’t know why he called me that.

“Hey kitten.” Levi smirked when he picked me up for our second date.

It made me blush as he kissed my cheek.

That night we slept together. When his face was between my legs and tongue laving at my clit, he said, “Good girl, kitten. Let go and let me taste your precious juices.”

I’ve never been so aroused or felt so taken care of by a man. His confidence was unbending. His skills, top notch.

As my body shuddered, and Levi lapped up the evidence of my pleasure, I lay staring at the ceiling in awe.

I wanted more. More of that and more time talking to him. Even that was amazing. He was on the path to becoming an NFL player and I was studying to become a sports physio. My father had always loved football—all sports actually—but never had the talent to play pro. My mom was a nurse. I figure the two of them rubbed off on me and by the time I was applying to college, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

Working for the Philadelphia Hawkes was a dream. One I thought would take at least ten years to get the opportunity.As fate would have it, the guy whose job I now have ended up moving to London to marry the woman of his dreams.

They advertised the job and here I am.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” my dad said when I told them the news. “First you get a doctorate and now you’re working for my team.”

His team.

When his arms wrapped around me, I felt tears prick my eyes.

“And hey,” Dad said, pulling back. “Don’t you let that Montgomery boy upset you. He’s a good quarterback but not worthy of my girl.”

It wasn’t the first time guilt had laced through me when he spoke about Levi like that. I was the guilty party.

But there was no way in hell I could tell Dad what happened. When I was younger, I overheard my parents talking and Dad accused Mom of cheating on him.

She hadn’t.

When I asked her about it, she patted my hand and said, “Don’t worry about your father. He was upset seeing me laughing with the man I got the house paint from. I would never cheat on Dad. But the woman he dated before me did. And he’s always been a little insecure.”

Oh.

It explains why every time a couple we knew or someone in the neighborhood divorces, he immediately says, “I bet she cheated.”

I always wondered what that was about.

Mom would just say in warning, “Hank.”

“Go ask them. I saw her at the street Christmas party last year all dolled up,” he once replied.

It all makes sense.

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