Page 50 of Playing the Player

I quickly move around him, go into his bedroom and slam the door without looking back. I didn’t meet his eyes, but I could feel his fiery gaze on me the entire time. This is getting too dangerous. Whatever is happening between us should not be happening.

I shouldn’t have said yes. Did I give him the impression that I came here for some other reason? Does he think I came over to have sex with him?

No, no. He wouldn’t. I know he told me he wanted me too that night of the party, but he had been drinking as well. And he was probably only saying that to make me feel better about his rejection. This is all pretend. None of it is real. Conor’s just playing the part of my fake-boyfriend very well. Damn it, Sash, get a grip.

Pinning my ear against the door, I wait to hear his retreating footsteps before I feel safe enough to move away. It seems like forever before the familiar sound greets my ears and when it does, I finally move more into the room.

My jaw almost hits the floor as I take in my surroundings. The last time I was in here I was almost blackout drunk. Conor let me sleep in his bed and he slept on the couch. Ever the gentleman. I had snuck out the next morning without taking a minute to check this place out so now is my chance. That was over a year ago. It was the night I finally realized that I didn’t want to be with Max anymore.

If I hadn’t come to the party at Conor’s apartment, if I hadn't kissed him, I don’t know if I ever would have left Max.

It’s beautiful in here and not somewhere I would have placed Conor in, to be honest. Dark wood floors, black walls with gold accents. It feels dramatic but also… rich and calming. It’s surprisingly tidy for a man’s bedroom but what would I know? Apart from the small stack of folded clothes sitting on top of one of the dressers, the place is spotless.

The biggest bed I’ve ever seen in my life sits in the center of the room by the wall. A black wooden bed frame with matching black sheets. I can only wonder what Conor’s favorite color is…

Holy shit, he even has a bath in here. I stride towards it, taking in every microscopic detail. I run my hands along the black ceramic tub, the coolness and smoothness feeling so good against my skin. The gold faucet at the other end adds to the luxury of the whole thing. It’s like something you’d only ever see in the movies.

What I wouldn’t do to sink into a hot bubble bath with a good smutty romance book and the view of the city right beside me. That would be heavenly.

Lifting my suitcase that Conor left by the door, I take it over to the bed, unzipping it and flipping it open. Holy hell, I have lots of stuff. I brought clothes for every occasion. Gym, beach day, work day, party. I even brought a bikini and I haven’t been swimming in years. Underneath all of these clothes is my… nothing. Holy shit. No, no, no. How the hell did I pack my entire wardrobe and forget my pajamas? Fuck my life.

I wonder if I could steal one of Conor’s tops without him noticing? No, you can’t. That’s weird. Is it though? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’d probably love it with the mood that he’s in.

A soft knock sounds from the door before Conor pokes his head in. “Hey, I could have been naked in here!”

“If only I was that lucky.” He moves into the room, eyeing the clothes that I’ve left strewn out across his bed.

I wince. “Sorry, I was looking for my pjs but somehow forgot to pack them.”

Conor looks at the mountain of clothes again, then back at me, unable to hide his smile. “I don’t mind, Sash.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” His eyes linger on me for a beat too long before he speaks again. “I’m just curious about what you’re going to sleep in now.”

My cheeks heat from the look in his eye. He shrugs, feigning innocence but this man is anything but innocent. He’s the devil in disguise. He’s temptation in male form. “I’m sure I’ve got something you could wear.”

He moves towards his dresser, pulling out his practice jersey and then stalks back towards me with a sex filled glint in his eye. “This should be good.”

“Don’t you need this for practice tomorrow?”

“I do, but at least this way I’ll get to wear your scent all day.”

He hands me the top, but he doesn't let go. Instead, he tugs on it, pulling me closer to him with ease. My hand instinctively lands on his chest to steady myself. What in the actual fuck is happening tonight? He needs to stop. I can’t hold on to my sanity for much longer.

“Your bathtub is pretty cool.” I say, trying to break the tension that’s simmering between us.

“You can try it out if you want.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Hang on.” Conor steps around me and leaves the bedroom while I stand in the center of his room like a statue with his jersey clutched to my chest. He comes back a minute later holding a bottle of bubble bath. “It’s good for muscle aches.” He tells me and I swoon. This man is so thoughtful, knowing my whole body is still sore from last night.

“Have you got any sweats I could wear?”

Conor looks like he’s trying not to laugh at my question. “Sasha, you couldn’t wear my sweats.” He chuckles to himself. I pop my hip and cross my arms over my chest but it just fuels him. “I might have a pair of shorts that’ll reach your ankles though.”

“Shut up.” I swat at him with the jersey but he dodges me while laughing hysterically. “You’re not funny.”