Playing with the Prop: (Rugby erotic romance)(Strathstow Sharks) (5 page)

“Go away, Harry. I’m busy.”

Hiding her hurt, she turned back to her desk, continuing to write rubbish on the treatment chart in front of her. She just wanted, needed, him to go, until she could sort out the messes that were her emotions.

Until she could look at him without blurting out that she loved him
.

The thought hit her blind-side, catching her unawares. Pain and emotion arced through her, warring with each other. She wanted,
needed
him here, but at the same time she couldn’t bear it. Not with what he’d said, talking about their night to the other players. Gossiping about something she’d thought was special. It had been to her.

The lock on the door clicked, and she yanked her head up and around, but he was already there beside her.

“Ashley, I know what you’ve heard, and I know it sounds bad…” He took the clipboard from her, throwing it to the couch behind him before crouching in front of her chair to take her hands in his. She fought him for a second, but it was no good. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Cal Wright saw us leave the bar the other night and made a bunch of shit up.” Looking into her eyes, he stroked a thumb over her hand, his voice serious. “You have to believe me. I would
never
say stuff like that. Not about you. About us.”

Her face stony, she glared back and did her best to ignore the warm feeling trying to crack through the wall she’d erected around her heart earlier.

He moved closer, drawing her hands up to his lips to press a kiss across her knuckles. “Please, sweetheart, you have to believe me.”

She arched her eyebrow. “Now why would Callum start spreading gossip,
unless
someone had said something to him?”

Surprise flowed over his features, his thumb pausing. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t know.”

“Know what?” Irritation joined discomfort, which made a peculiar dance partner with the butterflies that crowded her stomach at his touch. Quite inappropriately, her memory chose that moment to replay the highlights of their night together. Their very hot, very sexy night.

Harry dropped his head back, blowing out a breath, and then looked at her. “Callum’s had a thing about you for years. He can’t accept you’re mine. So he made shit up to make you mad at me.”

“Huh?” It wasn’t the most intelligent rejoinder, but it was all she could come up with at the moment as she tried to process that nugget of information.

Harry surged into movement, pulling her to her feet and into his arms. In as slick a move as she’d seen on any dance floor, he turned her, and she found herself up against the couch in the center of the room. Without effort, he lifted her to sit on the towel-covered surface, and put his hands on either side of her hips.

“You’re mine,” he declared, determination written on his face. “Have been since the moment I saw you. Callum’s still pissy about it. Hence playing fucking games to upset you and break us up.”

Her head whirled with all the new information. It was just too much.

“Stop.” She planted a hand in the center of his chest, pushing him so she could get a little breathing space. “Back up. Callum’s pissy about what? And when did I become
yours
?”

He didn’t break her hold, just pushed gently until she gave in. Lifting his hands, he slid them into her hair, forcing her to look up at him.

“You’ve always been mine, sweet stuff,” he whispered. “You just didn’t know it. But I knew it…the rest of the squad knew it.”

The warmth around her heart increased, eating away at her determination to have nothing to do with him. It all sounded plausible. Except… “Hmmm, so how did they know then? You guys developed some kind of player to player ESP?”

“I told them. Had to warn a fair few that you were my girl, and they didn’t go messin’. Not unless they wanted to deal with me.” He grinned, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “On or off the pitch, they soon got the message. Apart from Callum. He had it for you bad.”

“Oh my…” She blinked, her surprise melting away as she thought over several encounters with the younger player. He’d always seemed to hang around the treatment rooms, or wander around the changing rooms in just a towel…which “slipped” just as she’d walk by. She’d dismissed it as him being an extrovert at the time.

“See?” He moved closer, nudging her thighs apart so he could lean between them. To her surprise, she let him. “So when he saw us leaving the bar…the rumours had already started before I arrived this morning.” Anger flashed across his face. “I didn’t have time to stop them before the damage was done.”

She searched his face, trying to read between the lines, if there was any subtext there, but all her instincts told her that he was telling the truth. Damn. Just when she wanted…
really
wanted…to stay mad at him. For at least a little longer.

The slight pause must have clued him in that she was weakening. He closed in, bending his head to brush his lips over hers. “Please, sweetheart. You have to believe me…I would never do anything to jeopardize us. Why would I, when all I’ve been able to think about for months is you?”

She sighed against his lips, her slight nod the tiniest of movements. He groaned and wrapped her up in his arms to kiss her senseless. His lips molded to hers, tongue sweeping out to seek entrance. She didn’t deny him, her softer moan mixing with his when he slid into her mouth and stroked his tongue along hers.

He hadn’t gossiped about them. Hadn’t cheapened their night together. She knew that now. She hadn’t wanted to think that he had, but the evidence of her own ears had been stacked against him. But now, with his lips on hers, his body touching hers, she knew, deep down, that he was telling the truth. Relief and something else rolled through her body. Made her limbs weak and ensured she leaned on him for strength. A strength he seemed happy to share, holding her close so that he could deepen the kiss.

Remembering where they were, she broke away with a gasp. “Stop, we have to stop. I have another patient soon.” His guilty look made her pause. “What? Harry…what did you do?”

His hands spread out over the back of her hips, and he pulled her closer, a sexy grin playing over his lips. “I may…have persuaded Kev to take on your treatment list today.”

Her eyes widened, then widened some more as his fingers found the sliver of skin between her top and the waistband of her pants.

“What…all of them?”

“Yeah…all of them. We have the room to ourselves,” he breathed against her lips, and her heart rate ratcheted up a couple of notches. “Did I tell you one of my fantasies was to have sex on a therapist's couch?”

She pulled away to look at him. Trying for sensible and serious was ruined by the quirk at the corner of her lips. “Really now?”

He nodded, his expression solemn but with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Yeah. I think it’s the towels. Or perhaps the sexy therapist who always puts her hands on my legs. Why do you think I got cramps so often?”

She blinked, and then laughed. The small sound of amusement rolled around the quiet room. “You mean you faked it to get in here with me?”

He shrugged, lifting a hand to stroke his thumb over her cheek, down her jaw, and finally over her lips. She parted them instinctively, loving his touch.

“Maybe. But I’m not faking now. I love you, Ashley. Forgive me?”

Time froze. Her gaze locked with his as everything else fell away. Her heart leapt, her soul resonating, as she heard the words, the same ones that rang in her own heart. Was it too soon to say them? Was she getting carried away in the moment? Whatever. She didn’t care.

“I love you too.” Her slow smile was met by one of his, and she slid her arms up around his neck.

The kiss was soft, sweet, and sexy. Emotion made physical and expressed in each gentle brush of their lips and tongues until her heart felt as though it were over-flowing. He loved her. She loved him. Everything was perfect…

Breaking away, she looked at him. “But…work—”

“Shhh.” He cut her off with a finger against her lips, his voice low. “I already checked with John. As long as it doesn’t interfere with us working together, then it’s all good. If it does, he’ll just switch me to Kev instead.”

Relief washed through her, and she nodded. “That won’t be necessary, we got this.”

Reaching up, she brushed a kiss to his lips. “Now how about you tell me about this towel fetish you have…”

The End

Mina Carter is a bestselling, multi-genre author. She lives in the UK with her husband, daughter and a bossy cat.

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