Page 26 of Playing Rucking Hard

Dylan

Iwander around the ballroom in a daze, nodding to people without recognizing faces and avoiding any contact of the female variety. The only times I pull my head out of my ass is to present the donation and smile for the obligatory photos, and to bid an obscene amount on a piece of art that no five-year-old would admit was theirs.

Thanks to Lloyd McMillan’s generosity, I hand over more money than I’ll make in my lifetime, and it’s probably the only good thing I’ve done in my life.

How and why am I obsessed with a woman who could be destroyed if anyone finds out about our kiss? A one-night hook up can be explained away because we didn’t know each other. Still, I’d rather not have the conversation, “yeah I took some random woman back to my place and fucked her without knowing her name or occupation, but I can tell you all about her sense of humor and name the bands on hermust-seebucket list.”

That kiss, though. There’s no explaining away that kiss.

I can’t get the taste of her out of my head. Despite how we met, Emma is not a one-use girl. There are women you date, women you fuck, and women you marry. She’s thego straight to the alter and don’t mess around playing hard to get.

Hours after she’s glued herself to the other cheerleader as they work the room and tease wallets open, I’m still stalking her with my eyes. When she smiles, I want it to be for me. When she clasps her fingers around a glass stem, I want them clasped around my cock. When men undress her with their sleezy stares, reducing her to arm candy, I want to carve out their eyes with a melon baller. I can still feel her lips pressed against mine, her body perfectly primed and aching for my touch. This is bullshit. One kiss with Emma has me hotter than an orgy in a six-person jacuzzi when I was the only male.

Is kissing Emma that good because it’s forbidden?

No. It can’t be. I’ve been with women I wasn’t supposed to touch before—ex-girlfriends of mates, high-profile hookups the PR team would’ve lost their shit over—but this chemistry and reaction to Emma is different.

Emma isn’t just forbidden. She’s pretending to herself that we are nothing. Why? Why the fuck would she return my kiss withmore energy than a nuclear reactor before walking away? I’m not worth the risk? I call ultimate bullshit. Either her words were a lie, or her kiss was a lie. I know what I want to believe.

“I’m outa here,” I murmur to Cooper. We were talking about bathroom renovations when he got cornered by some rich prick who keeps hinting about a team sponsorship but never follows through. I don’t care about what size tiles Kenzie wants, not when I want to pull apart every word Emma said, and each moment of the kiss.Does she want me to fight for her or walk away?

“Before you go, Cole Brennan, have you met Dylan Fleski, our secret attack weapon?” Cooper makes the introductions effortlessly. The guy has gone from washed up asshole with a worse reputation than me, to Mr. Congeniality in the space of one season. Can I do the same? If I become Mr. Nice Guy, could I ask the team for permission to date a cheerleader?There’s always Plan B.Is it time to put Plan B into action?Only if Emma feels the same, and I’m going to believe in the kiss until she proves me wrong.

“Dylan, I watched the last game.” Cole extends his hand and doesn’t try to break my fingers. “I like your aggression on the field. You punch well above your weight.”

“Thank you, sir.” I think back to why I threw the punch. “The team says to leave insults on the field and just play the game, but there are some insults that I refuse to let slide.”

“About a woman?” Cole asks, leaning in as if we are co-conspirators. When I don’t answer, he pulls back and laughs. “Good man, good man. Lloyd wants me to invest in his Mavericks, but I haven’t found a reason to sign up as a team sponsor. But a man who is willing to fight a larger thug to defend a woman’s honor? How about I sponsor your jersey for a game or two and we see where we go from there.”

“I’ll get Kenzie to give your office a call,” Cooper says but Cole shakes his head.

“No, no need to call.” He opens his phone and sends off a quick text. “There. It is done. Your game day jersey for the next four games will be sponsored by Altruistic, my venture capital firm.”

“Thank you, Cole.” That should get management off my back for half a minute. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get an early night. Coach wants to try new plays tomorrow.”

I don’t wait for Cooper’s permission before getting the fuck out of Dodge. Luckily, my car is parked a street away, and after mostly sticking to water tonight, I’m good to drive.

If only I could shut down my thoughts.

I used to live by,when she’s not worth all night, give her back after an hour.Now, my blood’s running hot from one kiss. My chest still tingles from where she pressed against me, and I may never wash this shirt because I know it caught a tear.

What the fuck is the matter with me? Why am I falling apart over one kiss with a woman who keeps leaving? I refuse to answer the question until I’m inside the penthouse I bought for my mother, but she never got the chance to call it home. No. I refuse to think about that or else my anger will have me down in the gym until dawn.

Emma. Why am I falling apart over one kiss?

Because, I wanted that kiss from the second I saw her at the team launch, pretending like she didn’t recognize me. I’ve spent weeks trying to figure out what the hell happened between us, why she left, why she acts like I’m some stranger when I know damn well she felt the same spark.

And now? Now I know I wasn’t crazy.

That kiss? That was real. Her words were the lie, but why? I’ll protect her job.

My hands clench into fists behind my head as I pace the living room. Emma was with me for the full journey of our kiss, but shestill walked away. How the fuck am I supposed to feel? What sort of woman gives her body into a kiss, extracts my heart, and then walks away saying I’m not worth the risk?

I look for something to hit, but don’t dare go down to my home gym in this state. With early training tomorrow, I need a plan, not exhaustion.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

I pause at the window, staring out at the city lights. If I can’t punch something, then I want to track her down and force her to explain. Why can’t we be an us? I’ve had hundreds of women, and not one of them felt as right as we did that night. She got under my skin without even trying. The way she makes me want things I haven’t let myself want in years.

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