#playerdown: Players to Men Page 12

  And being a burden again?

  The idiot was the same age as me, twenty-seven, and he still moved from job to job. We never saw eye to eye after the initial clashes, but we managed to survive through the years, tolerating each other. Besides, back then Caleb tolerated no nonsense from anyone. Hell, when not in school or training for our respective sports, we had to pull our weight around the house, taking care of it. Any fights led to more chores.

  But now, he appeared tired. Worn out.

  Anger stirred. Why the hell couldn’t Justin just stay put in a job and give Caleb a break?

  “Do you need money?” I asked.

  “No.” He shook his head, a weary smile slipping back to his face. “You give me more than I need, Eli. Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about Justin. I just wanted to see you. See how you were doing.” Those keen brown eyes met mine, twinkling now. “I heard you finally have a girl?”

  Yeah, it was the one thing I’d never shown a serious interest in through my teen years. Girls were aplenty, but only hockey existed for me, along with Caleb. And now, Charli. “Yes.”

  “But?” Caleb said, his brow creasing, knowing me far too well.

  “I don’t know.” I frowned, glancing around the quiet parking lot, then staring out at the bay, not knowing what to say. “I like her. A lot. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Ah.” A faint smile appeared, more genuine now. “She’s playing hard to get, hmm?”

  If only he knew. I shrugged. “I love the chase.”

  “That’s my boy.” He nodded in approval. “I didn’t know what to make of it when Justin showed me the photo trending of you both. I mean, you don’t have any of those social media accounts. So, they could be fake.”

  Because I was rabid about my privacy, but he had a point. And Justin must have implied it was a ruse.

  “Why don’t you come over to the apartment and have lunch?” I asked, glancing at my watch. It was almost six. “Okay, make that early supper?” I should text Charli, let her know I was running late.

  “Maybe next time. I do have to go,” he said, turning to the Lexus. “And I can meet her, too.” Still smiling, he opened the door and slid inside. “I’ll see you Saturday in Rockridge?”

  “Yeah.” I shut his door.

  He opened the window. “Okay. Go win the girl’s heart, Eli. I have faith in you, my boy.”

  If only. Charli was too scared to trust anyone. It wasn’t just her cheating ex or my past rep, but her mother, too. And I had a feeling the latter played a large part in her insecurities. But it was my problem, and one I needed to handle carefully.

  I nodded and stepped back.

  He opened the window. “And thank you again for this.” He patted the steering wheel with affection. “I like it.”

  “I’m glad.”

  He used to drive an old truck back then because he didn’t want to waste money, and yet he bought my hockey gear and paid the local hockey club fees so I could join.

  Years later, I’d learned the truth of the sacrifices he made…

  “But Dad, I need money for my soccer cleats,” Justin moaned, following Caleb to the kitchen where I waited, ready to leave for practice.

  “I can’t, son. Your old ones will have to do. Ready, Eli?” he asked me.

  I nodded. “I’ll get my hockey bag.”

  “I’ll be in the truck.” He walked out.

  Justin spun to me, his whining expression morphing to loathing. “Just because my father drives you to practice, it means nothing.”

  I didn’t want to hear his shit, so I stalked off to my room and packed my skates into the massive bag.

  “Oh, this gear you’re so proud of? It’s someone else’s cast-off,” he jeered, standing safely in my doorway.

  I ignored him.

  “It’s because of you, Dad can’t afford a new car, so he drives that piece of junk. You’re just another useless orphan he picked up for the money we get, but even that doesn’t cover what you eat. At least the other losers Dad fostered were adopted. Who would ever want an overgrown lout like you?”

  I gritted my teeth that he would pick on my size. At fourteen, I was tall for my age. “Stay the fuck away from me, or I will make you bleed again.” I hefted my bag to my shoulder and stormed out.

  “You will never be my father’s other son if that’s what you’re waiting for!” He stormed off, his room door slamming shut.

  I found it hard to swallow past the tightness in my throat, anger razing through me like wildfire. Grateful then that the skinny shit had no idea what my father was like or what I’d done.

  I rubbed my jaw and watched the taillights of Caleb’s car disappear into the traffic.

  Justin might have wanted me to feel like I was worth nothing, but I’d treasured those things Caleb bought me, and I still had them. However, he’d refused all my verbal offers of a new vehicle, so I finally just bought one and had it delivered to him earlier this year.

  I climbed into my truck, and then I just sat there.

  My DNA donor was a waste of space and an abusive asshole when drunk and certainly no father to me. Caleb never gave up on me. As the years passed, my armored walls had splintered a little to allow Caleb in, and eventually, he filled some of that emptiness. Now his words echoed in my head. He knew me well enough to know it was hard to open up when it came to emotions. And then Charli cruised her way into my life with her snarky attitude, beautiful smile, and compassionate heart, throwing my life off-balance.

  My heart clipped hard just thinking about her. And I rubbed my chest. It felt as if she found this thread within my heart and started to unravel me, causing all these unknown, intense feelings to gush through, wanting her so badly.

  Whatever this was, I wanted to—no, I fucking needed to see it through and win this girl.

  I got out my cell to call her, then stopped, recalling what Caleb had said, and that got me thinking. Talking to Charli wasn’t working. If I wanted a chance with her, I had to play her game.

  Then, I did what I utterly disliked. I set up an Instagram account and followed @charlij21.

  Game on, Blue.

  But I had only a single snapshot of her from yesterday. I should have taken some when we were at the amusement park, and she’d claimed the sloth as a prize. She’d sparkled with delight at her win of the ugly creature.

  I found the photo of her sticking out her paint-smeared hand, trying to hold me off.

  The rain had slicked her tiny tee to her body like a second skin, revealing a handspan of lickable tan waist with her jeans riding low on her hips. Her hair she’d pulled up and parted into two little buns on the top of her head, several strands hanging loose and wet down her face. Hell, she was so damn beautiful, even laughing at me.

  If anyone wanted, they could easily make the connection through the snapshots, the hand imprint on my t-shirt on Charli’s account, and this one of her with white paint on her palm.

  I finally drove out of the parking lot a short while later, heading back to my apartment, and at the thought of her waiting for me, my weariness lifted. A smile started. I couldn’t wait to see her faint from shock that I’d finally confirmed our relationship on social media of all places.

  Yeah, I get it. For her, us being a couple was fake.

  For me? It was fucking real. And I’ll do everything in my power to make it real for her too.

  CHARLI

  There. Dinner was ready. I switched the stove off and moved the stir-fry off the heat, then crossed to the living room.

  I hoped War turned up soon, or the veggies would get limp and soggy. Sure, I’d still eat it, but War would probably take a head of lettuce and chomp on it. I snorted, then sighed, glancing around the empty apartment. This place, as lovely as it was, was empty without him. He’d been gone since early morning.

  Restless, I pulled out my worn paperback of Pride and Prejudice from my tote since I’d finished my paranormal romance late last night at the beach house.

  War had t
aken the living room couch for the night, and I’d slept in his bed. But lying there in the dark, it was hard to relax and let sleep take me under with his scent all around me, scrambling my brains. So, reading helped a lot.

  I opened to the first page…but my attention kept drifting from Mr. Bennett’s tolerant amusement at his wife’s excitement, that Netherfield Park was taken by a young man of large fortune, to the marina. Yes, the similarities were there for me, too. My mother wanted me to marry someone with a large fortune and have a hefty prenup—I rolled my eyes—but it didn’t deter my enjoyment of the classic.

  The lights came on in the yachts bobbing on the tranquil water. I frowned and glanced at the time on my cell again. It was long past six, the hour War had estimated he should be back.

  I blew out a deep breath, stirring the strands of hair escaping my topknot, my book forgotten on my lap, my mind on my troubled thoughts once more. This quiet in War since last night, and on the drive back to the city this morning, bothered me. Not that he was a rowdy person, well, unless he was tormenting me. But he’d seen me up to his apartment, and then he’d left. As a result, I couldn’t concentrate on my work or my Zoom meeting with Cooper, the author and father of the little girl in the book I was illustrating.

  Maybe I should call War?

  My cell buzzed with a text. I grabbed the thing from the coffee table, grateful for the distraction.

  Ila. I opened the message.

  WHAT THE HELL, CHAR?

  It was all in caps. A yell, obviously.

  I frowned and typed back: What?

  That illustration?! Max saw it. Now he insists we try it!!!

  I grinned and lay down on the couch, pushing a cushion under my head. How? I sent it to YOUR cell.

  Because I was laughing so damn hard, he came to see what was up.

  She added a string of laughing emojis.

  I burst out laughing, recalling the Kamasutra illustration I’d started yesterday and completed this morning, then sent off to both Ila and Ray. It was more to keep my mind off worrying about War, and to tickle my friends since I’d tormented them about it.

  Yeah, I’d researched the picture again to ensure I got it right. It was one of the most challenging positions ever. The woman’s body was arched backward, balancing on her hands and feet, and the guy had his humongous dick inside her. How that was possible, I had no idea because I definitely wasn’t that limber. Ray, maybe.

  She hadn’t messaged me, so I figured she was probably busy and hadn’t seen it yet.

  You can lose weight this way, I texted back to Ila. Burn up the calories.

  More grinning emojis dinged in response.

  I’d rather attempt jogging again, her dry reply came fast.

  She was as bad as me when it came to keeping fit. We both binged on cookies, coffee, and Netflix when we used to hang out.

  How about this one? I texted, then searched for the rough drawings I did of a sex-on-the-bench position—this time the guy was bent backward—I attached the file and hit send. Get Max to be your bench, and you go to town, girl.

  I could literally hear her screaming with laughter, holding her belly, and probably gone red in the face. Ila was a shy one.

  OMG, Char!!! This, I’m definitely showing Max.

  Okay, maybe not. I grinned.

  Her dots wavered again as she texted. You coming to Screamers tonight, right? We’re meeting up with Ray and Jack there. Please say you will???

  I gnawed my lip. It had been ages since I’d been to a nightclub, and I wasn’t sure what War’s plans were, or whether he’d want to go back to the beach house. And then I realized Ila had no idea what had happened between War and me since I’d last seen them at Mulligan’s. Unless they’d seen Instagram? No, they would have called…but both were married and doubtless busy these days.

  Rain check? I hit send, still grinning, mostly because I enjoyed shocking my friends.

  Ignoring the many notifications on Instagram—I had so many follows since War and my controversial relationship began—I flipped to what I wanted. Heck, I loved the snapshot of War with the handprint shirt. His expression was priceless. I traced my fingertip over his chiseled jaw to his compressed lips, and sighed, my heart clipping hard remembering the kiss that followed. Desire, hot and heavy slid low in my belly, coiling tight in my core. A small groan escaped me. Two years was far too long to go without a mind-blowing orgasm.

  Man, I slouched lower in my seat. The pic had close to ten thousand likes—

  “Charli?”

  Eeep, I jumped up, dropping my phone. Heart hammering, I peered over the couch’s backrest. “Hey, you’re back, and late.”

  “Good to know you missed me.” He came around, dropped his sports bag on the floor, the truck keys on the coffee table, and sat down next to my feet on the two-seater couch I currently occupied. I retrieved my novel from between us and dropped it on the side table. He grasped my feet, keeping them on his lap, and he rested his head against the backrest, shutting his eyes.

  Wariness morphed to concern. “Are you okay?”

  He glanced at me. “Yeah.”

  I frowned.

  And that smile snuck to the corners of his mouth again, reflected in his deep blue eyes, lightening the shadows there. He shrugged. “I’m all right. It’s been a tiring day.”

  Yet, I felt there was more.

  “How was your day?” he countered, his fingers gently stroking my sock-covered foot, and I wanted to sigh. It felt so good. But no matter his deflection, something was up with him, and not in a good way. It bothered me.

  “Busy with work. Trying to figure out the best way to portray the little girl the author had in mind was tough, but I think I got the gist of it, and then it was evening. It was peaceful.” I smirked, enjoying teasing him.

  Those striking eyes narrowed. “Is that so?” The next minute, he hauled me to him, and I was straddling his thighs. My heart thundered in my ears, so aware of how close I was to him because I could feel the bulge of his cock against my core. But he didn’t do anything, just held my hips.

  “Did you accept me?”

  My breath caught. “What?” My mind flashed to all kinds of scenarios. Before I made a fool of myself by jumping to the wrong conclusion again, he said, “I’m disappointed, Blue. You’re on that social media site so often—”

  “What?” I grabbed my cell from the seat before he finished and went straight to Instagram, checking the notifications now. And I gaped.

  war19 started following you

  What the—?

  Instantly, I clicked on his name, my heart drumming in my ears, and followed back.

  There was no pic of him. Of course, there wasn’t.

  He had his jersey number 19 as his profile avatar and one photo uploaded, and he’d tagged me. Because why not, since it was his snapshot of me in the rain, glaring and laughing, my hands held out as if to stop him, one palm sporting white paint. My tee was plastered to my chest…I peered closer. Yup, it revealed my hard nips—darn!

  Beneath it, he’d written, my girl.

  And he’d hashtagged it, #playersgirl #charlij #paintwars

  My gaze settled on the likes. Oh my God! Nearly nine thousand likes, and it was still climbing, even the follows. “You-you…”

  Words failed me. The picture was put up not even an hour ago when he’d obviously opened the account. I didn’t bother looking at the comments after seeing the first teary-face emoji from some girl because, heck, this was War. The badboy of the Cheetahs who women wanted.

  My gaze flashed to his. I flipped my cell to him. “You don’t like social media.”

  “Yes,” he said, cool as hell.

  “Why?”

  “Why not?” His thumbs stroked my hips, sending my hypersensitive body into overdrive. A smirk tugged the corner of his mouth, barely distracting me from his touch. “Thought I’d join in the fun, too.”

  I blinked, still in shock, then I huffed out a laugh, trying to get my rampant heartbeat to ca
lm the hell down. “But you can’t only post pictures of me.”

  “Why not? I like you.”

  “It…it looks obsessive,” I groaned, his words weakening me. “And this…you-me, we’re not even real.” I sighed, lightly smacking his hard abs with the back of my hand.

  He grasped my wrist. “You sitting on me is very real. Of course, without clothes is even better.”

  “You pulled me here.” My face flamed at his words. I tried to get off him, but his hand tightened on mine, keeping me on his lap. My movements had my core rubbing against his groin, and desire stretched my nerves like a tautly strung bow. “What about your teammates, your friends? Things you like?” I rasped, praying he had no idea how turned on I was or how much I wanted to kiss him again. So, talking seemed like a good idea.

  “Why? The Cheetahs have Amber. She’s the PR person who does all the publicity stuff. Max and Jack? Yeah, no. The only one I like is you. Hobbies? Who’s gonna take pictures of me surfing or fishing?” A sly smirk touched his tormenting mouth. “Since you want those kinds of snapshots, you will have to accompany me. Then we can get them.”

  He removed my cell from my clenched fingers and tossed it on the couch, his hands settling on my waist, his thumbs caressing my skin beneath my tee, torching all my nerves endings, but those deep blue eyes watched me, burning with desire.

  I inhaled sharply, my throat drying up.

  “Kiss me, Charli,” he whispered.

  There was so much need in his voice.

  Unable to deny him any longer, I leaned forward and brushed his lips with mine. And, as if that was a catalyst, a groan escaped him, and then he was kissing me, licking and sucking first my top lip, then my lower one.

  A needy moan broke free, and my fingers tangled in his hair. He gripped the back of my hair, and his tongue slid into my mouth, finding mine in a desperate tangle of need. I rubbed my aching clit against his rock-hard cock. His hands lowered, sliding under my t-shirt, and then he was squeezing my bra-covered breasts, gently tweaking my sensitive nipples—a tug that strummed straight to my core.

  God! I panted as his fingers teased my flesh while dragging his mouth down my jaw. He drew back, his burning eyes holding mine, he pulled off my t-shirt, leaving me in just my bra and shorts. His darkened gaze lowered to my chest.