The Player and the Bet: An Enemies-to-Lovers College Sports Romance Read online

  With a lot of effort, we make it over to the bed. I move to the side so I can push him down onto it. But before I can, he collapses all his weight on top of me. I let out a little yelp as we both tumble onto the mattress.

  His heavy frame pushes me into the soft bed.

  “Mace!” I call, but he doesn’t respond.

  I push with all my might, but his hard body doesn’t move an inch. Ugh. Just great. I’m trapped under this giant jerk.

  I try to wiggle out but quickly realize I’m completely trapped. Fuck. I literally can’t move.

  He moans slightly in his sleep and hugs me closer with his large arms.

  “Wake up, Mace!” I call in exasperation, but he just holds me closer.

  He’s dead to the world.

  What a ridiculous situation I’ve gotten myself into. I look around desperately for anything to help me, but even if there was something, I couldn’t reach it.

  It feels weird being in his arms. He’s holding me like a lover, but there’s no way in a million years he would ever hold me like this if he really knew who was in his arms. He hates me just as much as I hate him. When he’s awake, he would rather cut off his arms than wrap them around me.

  As the minutes tick by, he feels heavier and heavier. Luckily this expensive mattress is good quality, otherwise I’d be crushed. Its soft pillow top is letting me sink in to it to the point where he doesn’t have all of his weight on me.

  I sigh.

  I’m trying to ignore the feeling of his hard, muscular body through the thin layers of our costumes. I’m trying not to think about how he smells—but the manly scent of cologne, grass, and cedar is all around me. I’m trying to ignore the feeling of his hot breath against my neck.

  But I can’t ignore when he kisses my skin. My breath catches in my throat. His soft lips place light kisses up and down the column of my exposed neck. His touch burns and leaves a trail of fire in its wake.

  I’m trembling almost instantly and heat shoots straight to my core. I never realized I could react this way to any guy, and so quickly, let alone to him. But the way he’s touching me is leaving me panting. He grabs me and his talented fingers dig into my hips possessively.

  He rocks against me and moans.

  My eyes slam shut. I bite my lip to keep from moaning too. Wetness pools between my thighs, and as if he can sense it, he nudges my legs apart with his knee.

  I’m now pinned spread eagle beneath a still very much asleep Mace Law. He keeps kissing my neck and runs his hands up my sides. My mind wants to escape, but my body doesn’t. It feels too good.

  He moans again, and when he next surges against me, I feel how hard he is. That makes it real, and I snap out of it.

  I need to get out of here.

  With the last of my strength, I desperately push at his shoulder. He groans in protest, but I manage to get just enough room to slip out from beneath him.

  With a grunt and one last heave, I escape and fall onto the wooden floor next to the bed. I stay there for a moment, catching my breath—both from the exertion and also from how unexpectedly turned on I am. What the hell just happened?

  I look up and see he’s still lying on his stomach on top of the covers. He’s completely asleep and breathing softly.

  I get to my feet. I feel a bit unsteady, and I’m trying to ignore the longing in my core. My body wants this arrogant, annoying jerk lying in front of me, with his killer body, amazing hair, and lottery-winning genes. But my mind is smarter than that, and I need to listen to that part of me instead.

  His legs are hanging off the bed and I don’t want to leave him like that.

  “Come on, big guy,” I say and try to pull him up the bed towards the pillows.

  He groans in annoyance but helps me a bit, and I manage to get him partially up the bed and onto his side. I lift up his legs, which feel like they each weigh a million pounds, and heave them onto the bed. He’s lying mostly on top of the covers, so I take the other end and wrap him like a burrito.

  His face looks so peaceful and innocent when he sleeps that you’d never know he’s such a major asshole. I catch myself staring a moment too long and realize I need to leave immediately. Besides, Mace is passed out and not going to get into any more trouble tonight. I turn away from him and head out.

  On my way to the door, something catches my eye. There’s a black coat draped over the arm of the couch that looks suspiciously like mine. I change directions and go over to examine it.

  The night I stormed out of the fundraiser in town, I had been so pissed at Mace—and myself—that I’d completely forgotten my coat. I called the next day but they couldn’t find anything in coat check that matched my description. They said someone must have taken it. I’d given it up for lost, but as I pick it up off the couch, I realize it’s right here. Mace had it the whole time.

  I frown. Why would he have taken it? There’s no way he would ever do anything nice for me. Also, if he was trying to be nice, then why hadn’t he given it back yet? Had it just been here in his room the entire time?

  I slip into it and wrap it around my body. I feel its familiar weight on my shoulders. Definitely my coat.

  I look back at Mace for a final time. There’s a small frown on his face, like he’s having an unpleasant dream or something. I turn away, walk over to the door, flick off the light and leave him alone in the dark.

  Tonight was a weird night.

  18

  Mace

  “Thanks, Isabel, but could you get the girls to step it up next time? They barely did anything last night,” I grumble.

  “No problem, anything for my brother’s best friend,” she says with a smile. “But I thought you said you wanted it to be subtle?”

  “I did. Subtle, but not nonexistent. The more she’s distracted, the less she’s going to be focusing on watching my every move.”

  Isabel doesn’t know about the Org’s favor. All she knows is that Sadie has to keep me out of trouble, and that I’m not happy about it.

  “Well, you don’t want it to be too extreme otherwise you won’t be able to complete the other thing. Are you even still trying to make good on your bet?”

  Oh yeah, she also knows about the bet.

  “Of course I am,” I say defensively.

  “Oh, okay. I was just curious because the Mace I knew would never have taken this long to get a girl into bed,” she says innocently, and I glare at her.

  “It’ll happen,” I growl. “Don’t you worry.”

  “Okay, okay.” She throws her hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say.”

  I grit my teeth.

  “She’s not my usual type, so it’s just taking me a bit longer because I have to get into the right mindset to do it. It’s not because of her.”

  Isabel gives me a knowing look.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Oh, nothing,” she says coyly, and it irritates me.

  “Thanks, Isabel,” I grumble and walk away.

  I don’t want to thank her—she’s being very annoying, and combined with the hangover I have, it’s especially irritating—but she’s doing me a favor. Also, she and Cam are close. Plus, she’s smart as hell, so I want to stay on her good side.

  “No problem, Mace. I hope you’re able to ‘get into the right mindset,’” she calls after me.

  Fucking Isabel, too smart for her own good. I originally asked her to get the girls to step up their bullying of Sadie, but I wanted it subtle so Miss Goody Two-Shoes wouldn’t suspect anything. Isabel practically rules all the girls at Winterford, they’ll do whatever she says, so she’s a powerful ally.

  I’m trying different approaches in my attempt to complete the favor I owe the Org. If I can make Winterford an unpleasant enough place for Sadie to be, then maybe she’ll drop out. I can’t do too much of it directly though because I’m still trying to fuck her, so she can’t know it’s me.

  There’s no way I’m not completing the bet—though I haven’t made as much progress on that as I
thought I would by now. And I don’t know why? I’m finding it hard to get my head in the game, so to speak, and I don’t understand it. It’s just fucking some chick—something I’ve never had a problem with before—so I don’t know what my deal is now. I better not be growing a conscience, because that would massively suck.

  I head out of the house and walk towards campus. I have to pick up TP because we spend every day together. Normally, I wouldn’t be doing this. She’s the one who cares about our stupid agreement with the dean, not me. But I don’t want her to suspect I’m the one trying to get her to drop out, so I’m playing nice-ish for now.

  My head is throbbing, but I don’t feel that bad considering how much I drank last night. I don’t remember much after we set the chairs on fire in the backyard. I think I was trying to jump over them? But I’m not really sure. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. What I do remember is that I had some fantastic dreams. There was a beautiful, voluptuous girl beneath me and I was fucking her nice and slow—taking my time and shit. But then she was gone, and the dreams turned dark.

  I woke up in the morning alone, and the first thing I realized was I didn’t remember how I’d gotten back to my room. The second thing I noticed was Sadie’s coat was gone.

  Shortly after she left the town hall the night of the fundraiser, I realized she forgot her coat, and it didn’t take much convincing to get the coat check girl to give it to me. With just a smile and a wink from me, she was giggling and handing it over. She probably would have handed over her dignity too, but I hadn’t been in the mood that night for some reason—which was weird. That wasn’t like me. I was never not in the mood.

  But this morning the coat was gone, so Miss Goody Two-Shoes must have helped me back to my room last night, then stolen it back, because there’s no way someone else would have taken that ugly thing. I don’t know why I got it for her in the first place—and I also don’t know why I hadn’t given it back to her yet.

  As I get closer to TP’s building, I hear the deafening rhythm of a jackhammer. It keeps getting louder and louder. Wow, how could anyone stand to live around this construction noise? It’s enough to drive a person crazy.

  As I walk by the construction workers, I slip ten one hundred-dollar bills into the foreman’s hand.

  “Thanks, Mace,” he says quietly.

  I just nod and continue on my way into her building.

  19

  Sadie

  This whole arrangement with Mace sucks. Since he switched all his courses to super hard ones just to spite me, I’m barely keeping my marks up. But what’s making that even more difficult is the stupid construction constantly happening outside my window.

  They start early in the morning and keep going until late at night. What the hell are they even doing?? I went down to speak with them and they told me they were repairing pipes under the sidewalks. They said it’s a safety hazard, and that’s why they need to work extra long hours to get it done ASAP. They couldn’t give me an end date, just said it’ll be done when it’s done, so I don’t even know how long it’s going to last.

  Yawning, I drag myself into the washroom to start getting ready. It’s still dark outside, but the one good thing about being up this early is that the stupid construction hasn’t started yet.

  I finish washing my face and putting on makeup. I head back into my room and get dressed. I’m wearing my usual ripped black jeans and band T-shirt. We may be going on a private jet, but I’m not dressing up. I don’t even want to go on this dumb trip anyway, but Mace threatened to be extra bad if I didn’t, so that’s why I’m awake before the crack of dawn and sleepily carrying my overnight bag out of the apartment.

  I head downstairs and wait just inside the entrance door. I lean my forehead against the cool glass to both soothe me and wake me up.

  It’s twenty minutes before I see headlights coming towards me in the dark. A black SUV pulls to a stop in front of the door. With resignation, I head outside, dragging my bag behind me.

  The driver comes around and takes my luggage. He opens the back door and I see the last person in the world I want to be around right now. Mace looks well-rested and has a huge smile on his face. He looks as chipper as can be, dressed in a maroon button-up shirt, slim black slacks and a gray overcoat. It’s not fair that someone can look so good this early in the morning.

  “Morning, Sunshine!” he says.

  “You’re late,” I grumble as I hop up into the car.

  He looks at his phone in pretend confusion, as if he’s just realizing the concept of time.

  He then shrugs and says, “Someone’s cranky in the morning. Ready for the trip of a lifetime?”

  “Maybe I’d be more excited if this trip wasn’t with you.”

  I slam the door behind me with a loud bang, and we pull away from the curb and start driving towards the airport.

  “Well, color me surprised. I thought you’d be more excited. It’s not everyday someone like you gets the chance to experience how the rich live. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  I can tell he’s trying to provoke me into a fight, but it’s too early and I’m too tired to care. I suddenly realize maybe Mace actually likes it when we verbally spar. As much as I obviously annoy him, he seems to get off on trading barbs back and forth. I wonder if he even realizes that yet?

  It’s too weird of a thought, and I’m too tired to deal with it right now. I don’t want to think about it—because if Mace subconsciously enjoys it, what if I do too?

  I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window. The car vibrates beneath me, stronger in my head and weaker in the rest of my body. The rhythm is just slightly too intense, but it feels soothing for some reason.

  Next to me, Mace turns back to his phone, and I breathe out a sigh of relief when his attention is off me.

  We drive along the empty two-lane highway as dawn rises in the distance, turning the mountains from black to gray. As the morning blooms, the brilliant colors of Fall start creeping into the leaves of the trees surrounding us for miles on either side.

  Mace is laughing obnoxiously at every other thing on his phone and it’s annoying as hell. I wish I had a coffee. That would make this ride way more tolerable.

  I then hear a sipping sound next to me. I open my eyes and look over. Mace has a large takeout coffee in his hand. He raises it when he sees me watching.

  “Cheers,” he says.

  “You couldn’t have gotten me one?”

  I know I shouldn’t have asked. His answer is just going to annoy me. And even though I’ve gotten him coffee several times, why would I expect anything else from him? But I’m weak without my morning coffee—and apparently dumb.

  He just takes an obnoxiously large sip and smacks his lips.

  “Ahh, that’s good.”

  I roll my eyes hard and lean my face against the window again so I don’t have to look at him. He goes back to laughing loudly at his phone, and I think that that has to be the most annoying sound in the entire world. I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next couple of days with him.

  20

  Mace

  We pull up to the tiny airport just outside of town, and I see the private jet waiting for us on the runway. The guy got us a good one—and as we were driving up, I was thinking that he better have.

  I’m no stranger to private jets. I’ve taken countless of them throughout my life, so I’m not going to be impressed by some plane from the 90s with tacky upholstery and barely big enough to turn around in. Little does the guy who got it for me know, this is all pointless.

  A sports agent is flying me out to NYC and giving me a free trip in the hopes that I’ll sign with him when I go pro—but I have at least ten other agents trying to do the same thing.

  I haven’t decided who I’m going to go with yet, and this trip doesn’t help sway me towards the agent who’s paying for it. I want someone who’s going to be a pit bull in the boardroom, not someone who wastes money on pointl
ess trips to try to bribe college athletes. He could get in big trouble for this, and I don’t want an idiot for an agent, so things are not looking positive for his future employment with me. He just blew thousands of dollars on this trip for no reason.

  I look over at Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes to see her reaction. She’s looking out the window, and I can tell she doesn’t want to act like she’s impressed by anything to do with this trip, but she can’t hide the look of surprise that flashes across her face when she sees the plane. It may only be there for a second, but I still see it, and I smirk triumphantly.

  She was grumpy as hell when she got in the car, and I can already tell she’s going to spend the whole trip acting like she’s above everything. Acting like I’m dragging her kicking and screaming to the greatest city in the world on a private jet to stay in a luxury hotel and eat at fancy restaurants and see Broadway shows. I can’t imagine how she’ll survive the torture. But when she’s being a brat later, I’ll have this moment to remember. She can hide all she wants, but I know she’s impressed.

  I’m not sure how many private jets she’s flown on. I know her mom leads a jet set life, but from the look on TP’s face—and from her wardrobe—I suspect she’s never been in one before.

  The driver rushes over to open my door. I hop out and start walking towards the plane, but on second thought I wait. I’m trying to seduce TP and even though girls like it when you’re a bit of a jerk to them, there are limits. And I suspect TP has some self respect, so I can’t be too much of an asshole if I want to get into those metalhead panties.

  A member of the crew walks across the tarmac to greet us and take us on board. I look behind me to see why TP is taking so long. She’s waiting by the back of the car for her luggage. I roll my eyes. There’s now no question in my mind she’s never flown in a private jet before.