Page 27 of Heartless Game

Which meant going along with what he wanted.

For now.

He’d made a mistake. He’d brought me into his home. Hislife.He might know I was clever, that I was smart, but if he knew just how smart or clever I was, he wouldn’t have risked letting me get so close. They said keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but that didn’t apply to journalists.

I was skeptical when it came to his plans, though. “How the hell are you going to pull this off? You think no one’s going to be suspicious that we’re together all the time, that you can’t stay away from me, that your friends are always around me—when before it was pretty obvious to everyone that we can’t stand each other? People are going to think you’re pussy whipped.”

Isaac threw back his head and laughed. I was entranced in spite of myself: by his deep, husky chuckle, the way his Adam’s apple moved in his throat, the way his dark eyes warmed with humor. The experience was like a seductive caress; a temptation I neither needed nor wanted.

“Do you know how much pussy I’ve played with?” he taunted. “Your cunt could be entirely made of diamonds and gold, and it still couldn’t control me. Nah, everyone on campus will think you’re dick drunk.” His eyes narrowed, his hand squeezing my right wrist. It didn’t hurt, but the warning was there. “And you’re going tomakethem believe that, aren’t you, little snoop? You’re going to follow me around with big heart eyes, sit on my lap and toss your hair and giggle like you did at the bar in front of your friend, and let me touch you however I want to. Make everyone think you’re in love with me.”

“And you?” I countered, hating how breathless I sounded. “Are people going to think you’re in love with me?”

A look came to his eyes I couldn’t read. “They’d be idiots if they did.”

It shouldn’t have hurt. I didn’t care what Isaac Silver thought of me. But the memory of who he’d been as a boy was stronger than I’d realized, because his outright hatred burned almost as badly as my chest did.

“You’ll come to my home games,” he said. “Away games are negotiable depending on good behavior.”

“I can’t! I have work!” I protested.

“Not any more you don’t. I’ll quit the bar for you.”

“I need that money, Isaac.” I was at Reina on scholarship, but I still had to pay for textbooks and rent.

He waved a hand, releasing my wrist. “I’ll pay for whatever you need. You aren’t working at that damn bar in that tight little tank top while douchebros hit on you.”

“Youare a douchebro,” I muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll come to every single one of my games, here and away, and you’ll wearmyjersey. We’re not playing games where you wear some other player’s number and make me look like a fool.”

“What, are you jealous, Isaac Silver?”

He smirked. “Why would I be jealous of anyone else, when I know you’re going to end every night inmybed?”

I gulped, my throat suddenly dry. It grew drier as his eyes lazily tracked me as I swallowed.

“This is a big house,” I protested. “Why would I sleep in your bed?”

“Because I don’t trust you in my home. I don’t trust you alone. And you’re going to have to get used to me touching you, so we can sell this fake thing between us publicly. And,” he added with dark silk in his voice, “because I want you in my bed, and I’m getting what I want. From now on, I say ‘suck,’ you ask, ‘how deep?’”

The angry burn in my chest made it hard to breathe. I hated his words, and I especially hated the feelings they sparked in my core.

“If you get your dick anywhere near me, I’m biting it off,” I threatened. “That deep enough for you?”

What happened next was almost too fast for me to track. With a growl, Isaac lifted me off the barstool he’d set me on earlier, flipped me around, and threw me face down on the kitchen counter so my legs dangled off. A slap rang out and a moment later, my right ass cheekstung.

He’d hit me.

Spanked me.

As if he had the fucking right.

“You fucking asshole,” I seethed, lifting myself off the counter, only for him to push me back down with a hand between my shoulder blades.

I struggled against him, but I was no match for the big hockey player here in his own house. He peppered my ass with hit after hit, not tempering his strength or restraining himself in any way, just delivering pain. Ithurt. It stung. Itburned.

And then something horrifying happened: it started to feel good.

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