Page 44 of Roughing the Player
“Will do.” Pretty pleased with myself, I’m eager to celebrate. Alone. After we land in Chicago, I pick up a supreme pizza and a six-pack of cold brews on the way home. Without Ellie there, I can well and truly kick back. But when I walk into my place, she’s there in the living room. Not cooking, not cleaning, not doing anything but sitting on the couch, wearing another damn pair of skimpy shorts and a halter top.
All worried eyes, she jumps to her feet. “Hi.” She sounds tentative, as if she’s unsure of my greeting. As well she should be.
Her being here is not good. I’m jazzed from our win. Adrenaline’s kicking through my veins. I need to handle my shit, before I do something I’ll regret like lay her on the couch and fuck her brains out. I walk to the kitchen and drop the pizza and beer on the counter to get myself under control. Once I’m reasonably sure I won’t tear her clothes off and bend her over the kitchen chair, I turn around. “What are you doing here, Ellie?”
“I came to apologize.”
“For what?” I bark out.
“For Friday. I’m sorry I yelled. I was upset about . . . something. And I let my temper get the better of me.”
“What were you upset about?”
“It’s personal.”
“Fine. Apology accepted. Good night.” Abandoning my dinner and beer on the counter, I head toward the bedroom. Anything not to see her, smell her, heck, watch her breathe.
I barely make it two steps past her when she says, “You don’t sound like you’ve accepted my apology.”
Whirling back, I bark out, “What the hell do you want from me, Ellie?”
She spreads her hands wide. “I don’t know. Something more than goodnight, I guess.”
“Such as?”
“Honesty. Sincerity.”
She refuses to tell me what she was doing Thursday night and she wantsmeto spill my guts? Fine. I strut forward until I’m looming over her. “You want honesty? You want sincerity?”
“Y-Yes.” She doesn’t sound so sure anymore.
But I’m fucking tired of holding back, of pretending, of living a celibate life. Strutting forward, I back her up until she’s flush against the wall. “How about this for honesty? I want to fuck you. I want to taste that sweet spot between your legs. And then I want to ride you all night long until you cry for me to stop. Is that honest enough for you?”
Her eyes grow wide. She really has no idea how much I fucking want her.
She swallows hard, but then her chin comes up, challenging me, questioning my motives. “That’s just lust talking.”
I slap my right hand on the wall. “Damn right it’s lust.”
“Well, I’m sure you can find some bimbo who’ll jump at the chance to go to bed with you. Just drop in at the nearest bar. I believe there’s one at the corner.”
“And there’s the rub, darling.” I lean forward to breathe in the sweet intoxicating scent of her, and my cock comes to life. “You’re the only one I want.”
“Yeah. Right.” Her mouth twists with derision.
“You don’t believe me.” I wind one of her curls around my fingers, play with it, like I want to play with her.
“No, I don’t.” That stubborn chin does things to me.
“Then answer this. Why didn’t I bring someone home tonight, huh? I could have easily done what you said.”
“You’re probably exhausted after the game.”
“Only played the first half; had plenty of time to recuperate. You want to know why the only things I brought home were pizza and beer?”
“No. I don’t.” She turns her face away from me.
But she’s not getting away from me that easily. She’s not hiding from me anymore. I gently grab her chin and swing it right back to me. “Bullshit. You’re dying to know.”
