Page 28 of Playing the Player

His face lights up the second he sees me. “Damn.” His eyes slowly travel over me. “You look sexy in that outfit.” I look down at my black pants, blazer and sensible work heels. There's nothing sexy about it but that doesn't stop the blush from spreading across my cheeks and down my neck and chest.

“Stop it. There's no one around. You don't need to say stuff like that.”

“I'm not saying it for anyone else.” Lord have mercy. I think I need to add no compliments to our rules because every time he gives me one the butterflies in my stomach feel like they've just snorted a line of cocaine.

I let us both in through the door, throwing my keys on the entryway table and hanging my bag up behind the door. “One thing you should know about me is that I love getting gifts.” I tell Conor, eyeing the bag.

He hands me the gift bag while chuckling and it takes everything in me to open it with patience rather than ripping the thing to shreds. I carefully pull back the tissue paper and, oh my God!

“Conor!” I jump into his arms, literally jump and he catches me with ease. A Florida Flames Jersey. Number twenty-three. MATTHEWS. “I love it. Thank you so much.”

My legs are wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck and he just holds me. His arms tighten around me for just a second.

I never want him to let go.

Wait, no. I shimmy out of his hold until my feet land on the hard floor. I should not be having those thoughts! Bad Sasha. I move across the room to the large mirror hanging on the wall.

“I thought you could wear it to my game this weekend?” He says and those damn butterflies come back tenfold. He wants me at his game. Me!

“I’d love to.” I hold the jersey up to my body. It’s huge! I could probably wear it as a dress.

“Good. It’ll make a bigger statement than just going out for dinner.”

“Oh.” I lower the jersey, folding it neatly and setting it onto the couch, doing everything I can to avoid Conor’s eyes. I don’t need him to see the disappointment in mine. “You’re right.” Of course that’s what he was thinking about. Publicity. Attention. A stronger image of us as a couple. Fuck, I’m so stupid.

But that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? This is what I wanted. So why does my chest suddenly feel so hollow?

“Well, I better get going. Talk to you later?” Conor says, eyeing me with so much hope.

I force a smile and just hope it looks convincing. “Definitely.”

He leans down, kisses me on the forehead and makes his way to the door. “Bye, beautiful.”

Once Conor is gone, I let the charade slip away. What is wrong with me? Of course he doesn't really want me there. He wants to get us more noticed as a couple. He’s doing this for me. That’s what this whole arrangement has always been. So why does it feel like I’m the only one who’s forgotten that?

This is why the flirting needs to stop. The compliments, the nicknames, the forehead kisses. They’re blurring the lines and I’m getting confused. I'm supposed to be playing the player here but the more time I spend with Conor Matthews, the less it feels like a game.

12

Sasha

“Keep your head down.” Conor says from behind me. “Spread your legs a little more and you’ll get it in.” He places his hands on my hips, angling me into position.

“Uhh!” I moan. I can feel Conor’s hard length digging into me from where he’s pressed against me. “My hands are so sweaty, I can’t get a good grip.”

“Just let me help you.” Conor offers but I smack his hands away.

“I’ve got it. It’s just so dark in here, I can’t actually see what I’m doing.”

“Push your ass out more. It’ll be easier that way.” I do as he says, leaning my body forward and sticking my ass out backwards. “Yes, just like that.”

“I’d just like to remind you that I’m not as experienced as you in this.”

“You don’t need experience when I can just guide you through it.” His hot breath fans across the back of my neck as he whispers. “Come on, Sash, just put it in the hole.”

“Fine.” Swinging my arms, I hit the bright pink golf ball with the club. “Dammit!” I groan when the ball rolls too far past the hole...again. Golf is just another thing to add to the list of things that Conor is brilliant at and that I suck at.

Conor doubles over in a fit of laughter. “Oh my God!” He wheezes, “You are atrocious.”