Player's Challenge (3 page)

Discovered in a local park playing football, he’d been handpicked to train in Birmingham’s youth academy. Seven years later, he signed his first professional contract with Croydon’s development program and sounded the death knell to their odd relationship.

Far too soon, the elevator reached the top floor. Gemma alighted and stepped into a private foyer, her pink-soled Mary Jane stilettos echoing on the marble floors. If not for the strategically-placed recessed lighting, a kidney-shaped settee, and a side table topped by a vase of fresh hydrangeas, the space would’ve been quite frigid.

Unable to help herself, Gemma made a quick, last-minute perusal of her appearance in a floor-to-ceiling mirror across from the elevator. Her clients had a team kit and so did she. Top Flight’s agents were required to dress at the height of fashion. “If our clients see us looking a hot mess,” Yvonne had pointed out while outlining her employee clothing allowance, “Then they believe we’re handling their affairs in the same manner.”

Due to the warmer weather, Gemma had gone light on the makeup, opting for a natural look which complimented her favorite go-to-outfit, a textured pink bell-shaped skirt with a matching summer cardigan. And every hair of her asymmetrical bob hung in a smooth line to her shoulders.

She turned to the side, and checked out her profile.
I should’ve worn pants
. The short skirt showed off her toned legs, but the billowy shape over emphasized her backside which was already quite generous.

Damn you, Gladys Clarke, for gifting me with all this jelly!

Sure guys liked big bums, but not every girl wanted a butt one could set a tea cup on.

“Are you going to stand there all day admiring yourself?”

Startled, Gemma whirled around. Standing in the doorway of his apartment, dressed in a white V-neck tee and olive green cargo pants, Devin Spencer was a hundred times more gorgeous in person.

Gemma inwardly groaned. She tried to keep it from happening, had steeled herself from it on the drive over, but her body instantly responded to him. How could almost a decade of built up animosity, melt away in a split second?

Maybe it was his tall, athletic body made rock hard by hours spent on the field. Or it could be the incredible head of hair. Short on the sides, and long on top. Possibly, it was his full bottom lip. She used to enjoy sucking on it for hours. Perchance the bad boy ink? But more than likely, Gemma mused, it was his mesmerizing green eyes, tinged with golden flecks. They’d always made her feel like she was the only girl in the world.

Despite the passing of time, nothing had changed. Being in the same room was like dumping twenty gallons of coffee in her veins. Heart pounding in her chest, pupils more than likely dilated, she shuffled over.

“Gemma Clarke.” His eyes wrinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her. “Long time no see.”

He remembered!

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Speaking of eyes, she centered hers on his chest, so as not to be drawn in by that panty-dropping gaze of his.

“Nice seeing you again, Devin,” she said, sticking out her hand, her tone and body language staunchly professional.

For several seconds, Gemma thought he was going to leave her hanging. But his hesitation had only been a ploy. When she looked up, his hand engulfed hers and a sizzling jolt shot up her arm, connected with all her nerve endings, especially the hundred or so centered in her groin. To ease the growing ache between her thighs, Gemma crossed her legs at the ankle. Outwardly, it appeared like she was being coy.

“How have you been?” Proud her voice remained devoid of emotion, Gemma mentally pumped her fist as she slipped her hand from his.

“I’ve been a bad boy.” He even had the temerity to sport a sheepish expression as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

“So what’s new?”

His rakish grin didn’t falter. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to whip you into shape,” she quipped with surprising ease. Like riding a bike, she hadn’t lost the ability to stay toe to toe with him. Before all the money, fame and women, he’d been her closest friend.

“Against my better judgment, do come in.”

Feeling a little more in her element, Gemma allowed herself to relax as she followed him down a long hallway lined with black and white action photos of him on the pitch.

“Quite a collection you have,” she said, eyeing a particular photo of him, airborne and arms outstretched, reaching for a ball.

He cut his eyes at her, the edges of his smile deepening with dimples. Gemma’s belly tumbled. Everything about him oozed sex appeal.

“Narcissistic?”

“A tad,” she teased. Without thinking, she reached out and tweaked his arm like she used to when they were kids. The warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips made Gemma’s body tingle. But it didn’t compare to the way his gaze locked with hers when he fingered his arm. It was the same look he’d given her when he was no longer interested in his studies and more interested in finding out the color of her training bra.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he reached out as if to grab her hand. “Gemma, I—”

“I guess it comes with the territory, being a celebrity athlete and all,” she cut him off. She stopped abruptly and pretended to study a photograph. He stopped as well, but didn’t crowd her.

Gemma patted herself on the back. She wasn’t quite sure what she would’ve done if he’d touched her. Probably melt into a puddle of pheromones at his feet. Unable to resist, she peeked at him. Her gaze latched onto the tanned skin exposed by the deep V-neck of his shirt, the traces of what appeared to be a heart-shaped tattoo peaked above the collar. As a shiver stole over her, she bit the inside of her cheek. What she wouldn’t give to trace his ink with her tongue.

“The photographs weren’t my doing.” He started walking and like Pavlov’s dog, Gemma panted after him. “I didn’t decorate this place.”

Thinking of the supermodel girlfriend he’d dated off and on for two years, Gemma’s mood soured. So much so, she almost didn’t appreciate the rest of his home. An open layout, the living room flowed into a gourmet kitchen and a dining room with seating for eight. Sunlight poured onto chocolate stained floors from a bank of windows stretching from one end of the room to the other. All of the furnishings were masculine, not heavy but designed for comfort. None of that modern minimalistic crap people their age believed was hip.

“Well, whoever it was they have great taste,” she said, admiring the two leather club chairs and matching sofa in the main living area. She reached out and touched the dark brown material and it was as soft as churned butter.

“I’ll tell Mum you approve. She didn’t take too kindly to my underwhelming response to her efforts.”

Surprised, Gemma’s eyes widened. “Your mother decorated the place?”

“Who else would I allow to furnish all of this?” He stretched his arms wide, lifting the hem of his t-shirt. His low slung cargo pants afforded her a perfect view of his v-cut abs and what she’d once dubbed his yummy trail.

Unable to help herself, her gaze followed the line of hair to his crotch. Even at seventeen, Devin’s package had been long and thick, and it took several painful attempts to relieve her of her virginity.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned.

Lips pressed together, fingernails digging into his shoulders, Gemma nodded.

Propped on his elbows, Devin leaned down slightly and nuzzled his cheek against hers. “Are you sure, Gem? We can wait.”

“I want this,” she gushed before she lost the courage. “I love you. And I want us to be together.”

“If we don’t do this, it doesn’t mean—”

Gemma wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled so hard he fell on top of her. Instead of shying away or giving her an out, his arms slipped around her, pressing her slowly but strongly against him. Skin to skin, she shivered at the thrill of his body heat, the pounding of his heart.

This was dangerous and it was wicked and it was frightening. But why did it feel so good? Head ringing, chest heaving she turned her head in search of his mouth.

“I love you so much it hurts,” he whispered against her lips. He pressed closer, invading her mouth, filling her.

His hand sought her breast, cupping and kneading gently. The tantalizing pressure of his touch, his ardent caresses stoked a fire along her skin, inundated her with a plethora of sensations, ignited a twisting knot of longing which made her writhe and moan with a mixture of discomfort and pleasure.

Needing an outlet, she began to explore the wonders of a boy’s body. Her hands spanned the breath of his wide shoulders. Her fingers traced the muscles in arms, the rise of his ass. In no time, his moans of pleasure matched hers in intensity. He lifted himself slightly and one muscular thigh wedged itself between hers, urging them apart. She looked up at him in wonder and confusion. Their gazes locked.

“I’m ready.” His breathing was harsh and his hands unsteady as they stroked her hair away from her face.

“Me too.”

His hands slipped beneath her hips, lifting her, parting her legs on either side of him. As she took several calming breaths, he probed her tenderness, slowly pushing inside. Gemma’s heartbeat increased its tempo at the weirdness of this and the strange need to see this through. Even as a part of her wanted to rebel, another part held on even tighter.

“You’re so snug.”

“Don’t stop,” she breathed. “I-I- I don’t think I can go through this again.”

Heeding her warning, Devin gathered her in his arms. His words were apologetic murmurs that made her meet the passion of his kiss and the thing pushing inside her. His sharp intake of breath, a hissed exclamation that whispered across her skin, and then she cried out at the searing pain.

Instinctively, she struggled against him. And just as instinctively, he held her tighter.

“I’m so sorry Gem…I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

He kissed her eyes closed, stroked the furrowed lines of distress from her brow until the sting of torn flesh and the tension, wrapped so tautly around her limbs, eased.

At first, the fullness inside her was unpleasant, but with each stroke, her body began to mold around him, anticipate the rhythmic pulse of his body joining hers. Something she could neither define nor explain, swelled inside her. Something that brought him closer to her than seemed possible for any human being ever to be, and yet she wanted him closer. So close, no one could pry them apart.

Even stranger was the unbearable desperation, the suffocating knot of yearning she didn’t know how to satisfy and was inexplicably just beyond her reach. She greedily accepted the thrust of his tongue as she arched to meet the thrust of his hips, the length of him pressing deeper. He was her saving grace, her salvation from this bodily torment.

His thrusts became harder, stronger, and faster. The desperation within her sharpened and expanded. In mounting anxiety, she clutched at him, looking for solace, some respite. All it did was increase an unfulfilled need that was deeper than any physical pain could ever be.

I’m dying, she thought as the pressure increased to a volatile level, her breath expelling past her lips in short, harsh pants. My Mum is going to come home and find her only child dead. At least, there was one consolation. Her last breath would be in his arms.

“Earth to, Gemma. Hello, Gemma.”

Hand shaking from desire, she touched the back of her neck. Her skin bordered on feverish. And why were her thighs so slick?

“W-what were we fuc…I-I-I mean…what were we talking about?”

He looked at her sideways for a beat, and then finally said, “We were talking about who you thought was responsible for all of this.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She moved to put some much needed distance between them. It didn’t work because he dogged her footsteps. So close, she could feel his body heat along her entire right side.

To Gemma’s utter mortification, his fingers found her waist. “C’mon, Gem,” he coaxed with both words and inappropriate tickling, “who do you think furnished my apartment?”

“Oi! Any number of slags, that’s who.” Blood pressure skyrocketing and afraid she might ask him to scratch another itch, Gemma spun away from him.

Devin rested his hands on his hips. “You think I’ve slept with a ton of women?”

Hot and bothered, and not liking it one bit, Gemma couldn’t resist being catty. “You haven’t exactly kept any of your conquests secret. Every other month you’re in a new relationship.”

The sides of his mouth twitched. “You’ve been in this business long enough to know how the spin cycle works. For the record, I’ve never slept with a groupie.”

His revelation didn’t dispel the hurt she’d experienced every time she picked up a gossip rag. “How can they get to you for all the supermodels?”

“More exaggerations.”

Completely devoured by the green-eyed monster, Gemma allowed it to yank her chain. “So you didn’t shag the beautiful Swede? You know the one willing to give up her career to follow you on the circuit.”

“Barely a marble in her head. I like birds who don’t think the Dewey Decimal system is some kind of sub-woofer.”

Try as she might, a piece of the wall she’d erected around her heart crumbled. “So you weren’t engaged to the American actress?”

“More lies and assumptions.”

“And the four karat nugget she flashed everywhere was a figment of our imaginations?”

“Paid for by her publicist. That summer her movie hit the two hundred million mark.” He stepped closer. “Anyone else?”

Gemma’s cheeks bloomed with heat. If the floor suddenly opened up and swallowed her, she couldn’t be more grateful. “No.”

He suddenly turned and headed to the kitchen. “What’s your poison? Wine, beer, a spritzer.”

Gemma blinked, then blinked again. Why hadn’t he called her on the carpet for being jealous? “I’m on the clock,” she muttered, feeling not a day over seventeen. Cowed, she shuffled over to the dining room table and set her things down. Was this thing made of teak? She wondered fingering the beautiful, hand-carved wood.

Devin came out of the kitchen with two bottles of wine. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”