The Player and the Bet: An Enemies-to-Lovers College Sports Romance Page 11

  “You know they’ll bring your luggage onboard, right?” I call over to her. “You don’t have to wait for it like a dog begging for feeding time.”

  She instantly looks annoyed and a bit embarrassed. Her cheeks flush and I can’t help but lick my lips at the sight of it. I love it.

  She reluctantly joins me, and we head to the plane. It’s fun teasing her. She gets annoyed so easily, and she’s not like other girls, who are all trying to impress me so they’ll agree with whatever I say. She challenges me, and it’s something I’m not used to. It’s interesting.

  She’s definitely not my first choice date for this trip, but I decided to bring her along because if she’s looking after me the entire weekend, it’ll give her less time to study. I know she’s barely treading water as it is with those hard courses I enrolled us in, so not having this weekend to study is really going to mess her up. Plus, I also brought her along because I’m going to seduce her. I’m going to wine and dine and finally get this stupid bet out of the way so I can properly concentrate on the Org’s favor. No girl can resist dinner and a show.

  When we get to the short set of stairs leading up to the plane, I step to the side and reach out my hand to help her up. Without thinking, she puts hers in mine, then looks at me startled.

  Her eyes are wide, and I never noticed before what a pretty color of green they are. Something passes between the two of us where our hands meet. Pleasant bolts of electricity shoot up my arm. Her hand feels small and soft in mine, and I have the sudden urge to run my palm up her arm and under her clothes to see if the rest of her is just as soft.

  What the fuck? I quickly let go and her hand drops away.

  I have the strong urge to pick it up again because I want to feel that electric current pass between us, but I just motion up towards the plane.

  “Go on,” I say gruffly.

  She drags her eyes away from me and heads up the couple of stairs and disappears inside.

  What the hell was that? And why did I even offer my hand to her in the first place? What am I, some lame Prince Charming in a fairytale or something?

  I can ignore my pathetic sudden need to be chivalrous, but what I can’t ignore is that moment that passed between us. What the hell was that?? It was so intense and all-consuming. All I could concentrate on was the feeling of her hand in mine and the look in her large green eyes as they stared into my own. It felt like everything disappeared—the plane, the crew, the tarmac, everything—and it was just the two of us alone in the world. I’ve never felt anything like that before.

  I shake my head to try to clear the thoughts away—and I shake my arm too, to get rid of the feeling of electricity lingering there. It was probably nothing. It was just a fluke from too much coffee and not enough sleep. Maybe there’s a downed power line around here or something? There could be a million explanations for what just happened. It was nothing important—but even as I tell myself this, I’m scared I’m lying.

  I follow her up the stairs and suddenly I’m feeling very uneasy about this trip. Maybe this was a bad idea.

  21

  Sadie

  The plane is small but very luxurious, with its white leather seats and wooden accents. I’ve never been in anything like this before, and it’s crazy to think some people live this way all the time. Mace seems right at home. It’s obvious he does this a lot. I wonder what it must be like to have everything in life. Does it get lonely at the top? Are you no longer impressed by anything because you’ve always had everything? It must make life pretty boring after a while, because what is there left to get excited about anymore?

  We spend the time on the plane doing different things. Mace is buried in his phone and sipping champagne, while I try to get some work done. I really could have used these couple of days to study. I’m in serious danger of falling behind, but instead I have to go to a different state to make sure some spoiled rich kid doesn’t get into any trouble.

  He keeps distracting me so I can’t concentrate on my books. It’s not a long flight from New Hampshire to New York, so I barely get any studying done before the captain announces we are starting our descent. I slam my book closed harder than I mean to and look out the window to watch as the ground rushes towards us.

  Once we land, there’s a car waiting to whisk us away. I’m amazed by how quick the whole process is. When you fly commercial, it takes an hour for you to get out of the airport, but we are on the road less than ten minutes after the plane hits the ground.

  I could get used to this, I think, but then immediately feel guilty. I never want to be like my mom, chasing money and status at the expense of everything else in her life—especially her family who loved her.

  We drive through the crowded streets and pull up in front of an incredibly expensive hotel overlooking Central Park. I’ve been to New York City before, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d be staying at a place like this.

  I follow Mace inside, who struts in like he owns the place—actually, he looks and acts like he owns all of New York, not just this place. We’re greeted by the front desk clerk who starts checking us in.

  “Good morning, Mr. Law. How are you today, sir?”

  She smiles and looks him up and down. She’s trying to be subtle about checking him out, but I catch it—and I’m sure he does too because he leans forward and gives her his signature blinding smile.

  “I’m great. How are you doing…” He openly ogles her chest to see her name tag. “Megan?”

  “Great!”

  She straightens her back, pushing out her chest. It’s a clear invitation to him to keep looking.

  “We have you booked in the penthouse suite. The bellhop will take your luggage up to the room,” she says.

  “Great. Thanks, Megan.”

  He begins to walk away from the desk.

  “Wait!” I call. “Where am I staying?”

  He looks back at me like he forgot I was there. Typical.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Megan says while looking down at her screen. “There’s only one room booked under the reservation, but I can assure you it’s our nicest suite.”

  “One? We are not staying in the same room.”

  Mace just looks at me like I’m being dramatic.

  “What? Can you pay for another?” he asks.

  I press my lips together. Asshole.

  “I didn’t think so,” he says dismissively.

  He turns back to the hotel clerk. “That’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  “Two beds!” I say. “If we have to stay in the same room, then we need two beds. There’s no way I’m sharing one with you.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t try anything, Princess. I would never touch you… unless you wanted me to.”

  He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Yeah, right. That would never happen. Not if we were the last people on earth and that was the only way for us to survive. I would rather die,” I say venomously.

  “I can make it worth your while,” he purrs in his deep voice.

  We stare into each other’s eyes, and something passes between us. It’s the same thing that happened when he grabbed my hand by the plane. I can tell he feels it too because he looks away quickly. What the hell is going on?

  “I-I can put you in a different room with two beds,” Megan stutters.

  The tension between us is thick, and it’s obvious she can feel it too.

  “Yes, please,” I say firmly.

  He doesn’t say anything, and he looks everywhere but at me. The sound of Megan’s nails quickly striking her keyboard are the only noises in the large lobby, echoing off the marble walls and bouncing around us.

  After what feels like an eternity in this awkward silence, she finally says, “Done!” And asks the bellhop to take us to a different room.

  We head up, and I can tell Mace is flustered as he walks beside me silently. It’s not like him to ever be quiet. All of this makes me wonder how the rest of the trip is going to go. We�
�ve only just landed and already it’s super weird.

  When we walk into our room, it’s amazing—and I’m relieved to see two queen beds. There’s a large living room, a kitchen, and the bathroom is bigger than my entire bedroom at home. There’s also a large balcony outside that overlooks Central Park and offers amazing views of the city skyline.

  “Wow,” I can’t help but mumble in awe.

  “If you think this is nice, you should see the penthouse suite. It makes this place look like garbage,” Mace says bitterly.

  He tips the bellhop, and the movement is second nature to him. He slips it into the man’s hand with the effortless grace of someone who does this a lot. Mace then turns back to me.

  “So what do you want to do first?” he asks.

  “I get to decide?” I say in surprise.

  “Have you ever been to New York before?”

  “Once.”

  When I was young, just barely a teenager, I came with my mom and her new boyfriend at the time. I had been excited to finally experience NYC, but the trip hadn’t been much fun. My mom’s boyfriend was wealthy, but not super wealthy. He was probably the least-rich person my mom has ever dated—besides my dad. But he was trying to impress us, so he took us to all these fancy restaurants and introduced us to his much more successful friends. My mom quickly figured out he wasn’t as rich as he was trying to appear to be and broke up with him shortly after that trip.

  “But we didn’t see any of the sights or even eat New York-style pizza, so I don’t feel like I’ve really been here,” I add.

  “Okay, let’s do it,” he says.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yep. What else are we going to do?”

  “I thought you’d want to drink and party at fancy lounges or something and just make this trip as miserable as possible for me.”

  He shrugs. “We can do that too if you want.”

  “I’m not much of a partier.”

  “I never would have guessed based on the way you dress.” He nods at my band T-shirt, leather jacket and ripped jeans.

  “Looks can be deceiving,” I shoot back.

  “Yeah, they can,” he says seriously, and it catches me off guard.

  Mace is never serious about anything. He doesn’t even take football seriously, which is the thing he supposedly loves most in the entire world—besides himself.

  We stare at each other, and that same strange thing passes between us. I don’t know what it is. Hatred? Is that what this feels like?

  “Should we go?” he asks.

  “Yes!” I say quickly.

  I need to get out of this room. It’s a large space—huge by NYC standards—but it suddenly feels like the size of a coffin. I can barely breathe because all the oxygen has been sucked out of the air.

  I rush passed him and my shoulder brushes against his arm. Even though we are both fully clothed, I can feel his hard muscles beneath the layers of fabric. Warm electric sparks burst against my skin where we touch.

  I practically run out of the room and into the hall, desperately gasping for air.

  22

  Sadie

  Despite all odds, I actually end up having the best time? Who would ever have imagined that me hanging out with Mace Law could result in fun instead of murder? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

  We start by walking around Central Park, then head to Rockefeller Center and Times Square. We even get pizza on the way, so I finally get to experience New York-style pizza—and it’s amazing.

  At one point, Mace asks, “Do you want to see a Broadway show?”

  “Duh!” I answer enthusiastically.

  He immediately gets on the phone, and I don’t know who he calls, but thirty minutes later we are sitting in front row seats staring up at a stage. The show he picked is full of dancing and singing. I never thought Mace would enjoy something like this, but when I sneak peeks over at him, he’s clearly enjoying himself. There’s a huge smile on his face, and he laughs at the cheesy jokes and nods his head along to the songs.

  I lean over.

  “I can’t believe you like musicals,” I whisper.

  He turns his head and we are suddenly so close we are almost kissing.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispers back.

  His breath tickles my face and mine catches in my throat. I look down at his strong lips—so close—and I have the sudden urge to kiss them.

  I snap back as if I’ve been burned. I turn my attention to the musical and try to ignore what just happened. He stares at me for a moment longer before turning back to the show himself.

  I try to focus on what’s happening on stage, but I have trouble concentrating. My mind keeps bringing me back to that sudden urge I had to kiss him. Where the hell did that come from?

  When the show finishes, I barely remember any of it.

  We head to dinner at a nearby restaurant on the top floor of a skyscraper. Neither of us are twenty-one, but Mace tips the waiter to not check our IDs. The food is incredible, but the views are even more incredible and we watch the sun set behind the buildings.

  Instead of fighting, we spend the entire dinner laughing, and I’m shocked we are actually capable of getting along. Who knew Mace could be tolerable when he wanted to be? I suddenly see what other people must see in him. The charming, handsome, confident playboy. The merciless flirt. And despite my best efforts, I’m finding myself enjoying his cheeky comments and the way he looks at me with hooded eyes.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  We have quite a few drinks and by the time we leave we are pretty tipsy. We stumble out into the street and Mace hails a yellow taxi. It pulls to a screeching stop and the two of us pile in.

  The lights around us glow extra bright, and I’m feeling really good. My tongue is looser than normal from the cocktails, and I tell him, “Today was magical. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually had fun with you.”

  He laughs loudly, and I find it charming instead of irritating like I normally do.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this either, but me too. Who knew you could actually be fun when you aren’t telling me how much you hate me and how much I suck?”

  I realize his arm is draped across the back of the seat, almost touching my shoulders.

  “Me?” I ask incredulously. “You’re the one who loves to tell me how much I suck! You love nothing more than to drive me crazy and push my buttons.”

  “I just think you need to loosen up and enjoy life more. You have so much going for you. You’re pretty, smart, and when you let down your guard, you can be a hell of a lot of fun. I don’t get why you hide behind that attitude and those baggy clothes. I got a peek at what’s under there at that fundraiser, and from what I saw, you have the kind of body that would make men fight wars just for the chance to touch you.”

  His voice dips low, and it makes me shiver. It suddenly feels like he’s caressing my skin with his words.

  I look up into his dark eyes. The things he’s saying are sweet—kind of insulting, but still sweet. Fuck he’s hot.

  I lick my lips and his gaze darts down to them. His eyes narrow predatorily. The same weird thing passes between us that’s been happening all day, and it makes my insides feel like they are on fire.

  Suddenly, there are fingers tangled in my hair and hard lips on my mouth. I reach out and grab the sides of his face. His jaw is huge in my hands and the faint beginnings of stubble scratch my palms.

  I can’t believe we are kissing. MACE LAW AND I ARE ACTUALLY KISSING. But I don’t have much time to think about it because he’s already deepening the kiss and pulling me against his hard body eagerly.

  “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he murmurs against my lips.

  Our mouths battle against each other. His talented tongue licks my bottom lip, and I gasp. The sound sets off an animal reaction in him and he pushes against me. My back slides along the worn leather of the seats until I’m practically lying down. He’s on top of me, kissing and groping my b
ody with his large hands.

  We make out passionately as the cab races through the crowded streets, oblivious to everything except each other. His mouth and his body feel incredible. I’m at the mercy of this sexy man pressing against me like he desperately wants to claim every part of my body. And I just want to let go and have him take me.

  I’m lost to the sensations, but when he slips his hand roughly under my shirt, I come back to our surroundings.

  “The driver,” I hiss.

  I’m suddenly self-conscious when I realize he’s been watching the whole thing in the rearview mirror.

  “Who cares,” Mace murmurs against my neck.

  He starts kissing up and down. His warm breath lights my skin on fire, and I’m reminded of when he did this at the Halloween party. But this is so much better, because he’s awake this time.

  He slips his hand higher and cups my breast through my bra. I let out a gasp as his palm brushes against my sensitive nipple through the fabric.

  I look over and see the lecherous grin of the driver as he watches us in the mirror. My initial reservation was because I didn’t want to be obnoxious by bothering him when he’s working, but knowing he’s enjoying watching us is a hundred times worse.

  “Off,” I say, and shove Mace’s shoulder.

  It’s like the guy is made of steel. My shove does nothing. He keeps kissing my neck but takes his hand out from under my shirt.

  I shove him again, and he leans back with an annoyed sigh. I untangle my legs from around his waist and sit up.

  “Who cares if the driver watches? You’ll never see him again, and he probably doesn’t mind the entertainment. Isn’t that right?” Mace jokes with the guy.

  “Yes, I like to watch sluts,” the driver says.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” Mace’s whole demeanor changes instantly. He shifts from charming and horny to dark and threatening.

  “It’s okay, just leave it,” I tell Mace.