The Player's Club: Scott (20 page)

Long minutes afterward, sweaty and shaking, he finally set her down. Her legs were too shaky to support her, and she sank down onto the toilet. “Oh, wow,” she murmured. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Scott’s eyes were gleaming mischievously. “Come on. Guy’s waiting,” he mouthed.

She blushed, quickly trying to tug her pants back on—not an easy feat, considering the crammed quarters. She kicked Scott twice before she finally managed to get clothed again. “What is he going to think?” she asked.

“He’s going to wish he was me,” Scott answered with a wink. “Don’t worry. Just head for the seat. I’m sure this happens all the time.”

Scott opened the door, and for a second, he stopped—causing Amanda to bump into his back. “You prick,” Scott said, in a low hiss.

She heard masculine laughter, and abruptly wondered what was going on.

“I thought you were sick or something,” a man’s voice said disingenuously. “You know. Puking.”

Scott turned back to her. “Amanda, go on ahead to the seat.” He was staring at a man, their age, with carroty-red hair and a smarmy expression. The red-haired man winked at her. She returned to her seat, but the plane was quiet enough that she could catch snippets of their conversation.

“Who was
that?
”

“Not your business, that’s who,” Scott said sourly.

“Girlfriend?” The man’s tone was sarcastic. “Do Lincoln and Finn know about this? And what does
she
know?”

She didn’t catch Scott’s answer, although she found herself desperately wanting to. Finally, she closed her eyes, waiting for him to return.

He had to be a Player. She wondered how they were going to get around the stricture of him not telling anyone…especially when it came time for her to join.

Her mind was awhirl. Eager, impatiently, she suddenly realized that she was in an airplane, and she couldn’t care less.

Sonofabitch,
she thought.
He really did cure my fear of flying.

But she wasn’t sure if lust or falling desperately, stupidly in love was what did the trick.

11

THE FLIGHT WAS OVER, Amanda was grateful, ecstatic to be on the ground and alive…and only a little jet-lagged. They’d been here a day, wandering around, fighting off napping. Now, at night, at a restaurant and dance club, Amanda was seeing a whole new side to Scott. She thought he might rush off, that he might have Player’s Club business to attend to. Instead, he told her that they were off doing something, but he’d wanted to spend the time with her.

She wasn’t sure if that was romantic, or shady—if he wanted to focus on her or hide her.

“Whoo! Another shot!” he crowed, accepting a shot of the clear liquor they were drinking… Vodka? Grappa? What the heck
was
he drinking?

He sat down next to her with a goofy, endearing smile. “I’m getting plastered, aren’t I?”

She nodded. “Is this a regular thing?” Might as well know now.

He shook his head, a little too vigorously, and then he needed to hold the table for balance to get his bearings. He said, slowly and with careful enunciation, “I don’t get drunk. It makes you lose too much control.”

“Obviously,” she said, sipping the same glass of red wine she’d started the night with. “You want any more tapas?” She nudged the plate toward him.

He opened his arms voluminously, almost hitting the people who were sharing their table with them, family style. Considering they were also a bit inebriated, they forgave him easily. “I’ve had the best food, the best drink and I’ve got the best girl in Spain,” he said, kissing her noisily. “And I’m
running with the bulls tomorrow!
”

Another rowdy cheer at this one. He kissed her more intently. She found it sweet, if disconcerting.

“You’ve got a big day tomorrow,” she said. “Why don’t I pour you into bed?”

“I can think of better things we can do there,” he said with what he probably thought was a suave bit of eyebrow wiggling.

“Let’s just get there first,” she said, grinning. “Then we’ll see what happens next.”

He let her help him out of the restaurant, high-fiving various other tourists and run aficionados on the way out. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, leaning on her heavily.

“I’ll bet,” she said with a loud
oof.
“You probably couldn’t find your way back to the hotel in this state, pal.”

He let out a bark of laughter, then shook his head. “No. I mean, I’m so glad you’re here with me in Spain.”

She felt a burst of warmth in her chest. “I’m glad, too.”

“I can’t believe I’m here.”

“Me neither,” she echoed with feeling.

“No, I can believe you’re here,” he said, scoffing at her remark. “You’re an adventurer.”

“I am?” She blinked. She’d been called many things, but adventurer was rarely one of them. “Then…what does that make you?”

“Incredibly lucky.” She wasn’t sure if he was deliberately misinterpreting her remarks or what, but he stood then and cupped her face. “If it hadn’t been for you and the Players, I would still be stuck in the same windowless office, watching TV way too late, playing video games and not getting any sleep in my lonely, empty bed.”

Now her mouth fell open. “You weren’t like that,” she protested.

He shook his head. “You don’t even really know me. How crazy is that? You think I’m this larger-than-life guy.”

“You
are
larger-than-life,” she said. “You just aren’t giving yourself a chance.”

He shook his head, then started heading down the street, until she tugged his arm.

“Wrong way,” she corrected gently, guiding him toward their hotel. They trudged in silence for a minute, the mood going from ebullient to deflated in less than sixty seconds. She ushered him up to the room. “So…what did you want to do in bed?”

He collapsed face-first into the pillow. “Try to get the room to stop spinning,” she heard his muffled voice say.

She sighed, shaking her head. He obviously didn’t drink all that often. It was surprising…and sort of cool.

“How did you get involved with The Player’s Club, anyway?”

He rolled over, keeping his eyes closed. “Remember those guys? That night, in the alley?”

“The night I found you on my fire escape?” she asked, feeling fond of the memory.

“The very same. Well, I followed them one night.”

She gasped, sitting next to him on the bed. “By yourself? Are you crazy? They could have been… You could have been…”

“Did you ever feel like you were… I don’t know. Trapped in your life?” His voice sounded as if he was pleading for her understanding.

She paused, surprised by the turn of conversation. Then she started slowly stroking his hair across his forehead. She thought of her marriage, the chocolate shop. How she’d exchanged
busy
for
happy.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think I know how that feels.”

“I was trapped in my life,” he said, rolling to his side to stare at her more intently. “I hated just playing it safe. I was so stuck in my life I didn’t even know how unhappy I was.”

“I’m sorry.” The words didn’t express enough. She cuddled next to him, and he kissed her temple.

“These guys showed me that. They woke me up to the fact that I was just going through the motions, that I wasn’t living my life, I was serving it like a jail sentence. All the crazy stuff—the bull run, the skydiving, all of it—isn’t necessarily the stuff that makes me happy. But it was like dynamite. Suddenly, I’m not stuck anywhere. Anything is possible.”

She wanted to weep for him. He sounded so broken, and then so hopeful.

“I feel alive now,” he said, stroking her face.

She kissed him softly on the lips. “I’m glad.”

“How about you?” he asked. “What makes you feel alive?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I thought I used to, but…I don’t know. I just know that I envy you. I want to live my life deliberately, like you are. That’s why I pushed so hard to get you to help me join the Club.”

He nodded.

“But I know I feel alive when I’m with you,” she added ruefully. “Maybe some of your Player’s philosophy is wearing off on me.”

He laughed. Then he leaned in, kissing her more intently. His hand stroked up her stomach, cupping her breast. He rolled her onto her back, then kissed her more intently.

“I think I remember what I wanted to do to you,” he whispered roughly against her ear.

She could feel his erection pressed like a rod of iron against her thigh. “I think you’re up for it,” she agreed, surprised.

“Is this blouse a favorite of yours?”

She frowned. “Not particularly. Why?”

He smiled, and his expression was devilish—pure sex, laced with a dark mischief she’d never seen before. She shivered, surprised at how turned on he’d managed to make her in such a short period of time. “Scott…”

He reached down, grabbing her blouse and yanking it, hard. Buttons went flying as they were torn off the hem. Before she could yelp in protest, he was kissing her chest, suckling her through the lace of her black bra. She gasped, then moaned as her back arched.

He’d always been a thoughtful lover. Considerate. Definitely inventive, and above all adventurous—she’d certainly never had sex in public before he came along. But tonight, he was unleashed. She wasn’t a participant so much as she was simply
experiencing
him, like standing in a summer thunderstorm.

He stripped out of his own clothes with surprising grace, then yanked off her skirt. She was wearing a black thong to match the bra—she’d invested in a lot more lingerie since she started seeing Scott—and he didn’t take it off. He merely pushed it to one side, pressing inside her with a swift, sure stroke. She moaned, her head moving from side to side as he rode her, lifting her hips to meet him, angling her so her leg rested against his chest, her heel resting on his shoulder. He rippled against her like lapping ocean waves.

The first orgasm was like a lightning strike: brilliant, dazzling, unexpected. She cried out, her hands fisting in the sheets.

He turned her over, unclasping her bra and flicking it off her shoulders. Then he leaned against her, his chest to her back. He cupped her breasts as he entered her from behind. He pistoned against her hips, his cock thick, relentlessly pleasuring her. He moaned as he rode her, and she moaned in response, arching, bucking her hips back to meet his. He spread her legs a little, wriggling somehow, until she felt as if she was on fire with need. Her last coherent thought was,
Did he take a class since the last time we…?

He hit her G-spot with the tip of his cock, and she cried out, her body clenching against him. She was mewling, all but screaming with the reverberations.

“Still not done with you yet,” he growled. He spun her again, lifting her against him, pressing her against the headboard, wrapping her legs around him. It was just like the club, just like the park, one of her favorite positions. His shaft rubbed against her clit in just the right way as he plunged in and withdrew. She took in a quavering, hiccupping breath. “Oh, Scott…” She clawed at his shoulders, mindless with how he was making her feel.

His tempo sped up, going from measured and masterful to animalistically wild. He was almost shouting with it, the bed squeaking in protest at the power of his thrusts. She clung to him. When she came, she screamed. He echoed it, shuddering against her, his hips jerking like a shot cannon. They sank to the bed, still joined.

“Wow,” she murmured, when she could finally speak.

His eyes were closed—he had to be already asleep. She kissed him again, holding him for a moment.

“I love you,” she whispered.