Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(6)

"You know Dee?"

"Know her?" Akele thunders. His laugh sounds like it comes from a storm cloud. "She's my ex!"

"What are you doing to her?" Dee shouts, appearing behind me. She grabs my arm. "I'm not letting you get your hooks in her, Jason."

"Oh calm down, Dee," Akele rumbles.

"Don't tell me to calm down, gumdrop. Love 'Em and Leave 'Em here isn't touching the Princess."

"I decide who touches me," I cut in, folding my arms over my chest.

"Ana," Dee warns.

"He asked me to sit at a table with him. Not go to bed with him. I think I will."

"Awesome," Jason says, taking my arm. "Barkeep! Two screwdrivers!"

"Stop calling me barkeep!" the barkeep shouts back.

"Make it three," Dee interjects, then loops her arm through mine, on the other side.

Jason rolls his eyes. "I'm insulted. Are you implying I'm going to try to get her drunk?"

"She's already drunk," Dee says.

"So are you, point being?" Jason says.

"I don't know if she can hold her liquor."

"I can hold your liquor," I shout. I drop into the booth, and Dee crowds in next to me. A waitress brings our drinks.

"What is this?" I ask, flicking the glass with my finger. It's orange. That's all I can tell.

"Orange juice and vodka. It's a drink for people who don't f*ck around," Jason says.

"Then you should skip it," Dee says, acid in her voice.

I sit up straighter. "So you do not think I f*ck around."

"I hope you do."

I blink. "Did you just make a pass at me?"

"I sure did, Princess. Take those glasses off. I want another look at those eyes."

I look at Jason Powell coolly and drain my drink. He does the same. Dee gulps hers down, and I slap my glass on the table.

"More."

"Ana," Dee says, her voice rising.

I look at her. The world only wobbles a little. "Do you think I'm a child? I need four drinks before I'm ready to even finger dance."

"I have no idea what that is, but I think I want to try it," Jason says with a grin.

"No you don't, little man. Are we here to drink or talk?"

"Another round," he yells.

The second drink goes down a bit harder. The third goes down a bit easier.

"So," Jason says, obviously trying to keep his voice from drunken wavering, "What's the whole princess thing like. Do you have a castle and shit?"

I turn up my chin.

"Stop doing the chin thing," Dee sighs, leaning over the table.

"I don't want to talk about castles. I want to dance."

I half shove Dee out of the way and stride back out onto the floor, my hips swaying heavily from side to side. Jason comes up right up behind me, his back pressed to mine. I wiggle my hips and glance over my shoulder at him, grinning.

He is very handsome. When he touches my shoulders, a shiver goes down my spine.

Dee watches us the entire time, paying little attention to her dance partners. Jason seems a gentleman to me; I do not know why she is so worried. Besides, I can handle myself. I am not that kind of princess.

I turn around and face him. The song is not a slow song, but our dance becomes a slow dance.

"Can I ask you something?" he says, grasping my hips.

I rest my arms on his massive shoulders.

"You mean, can you ask me something else."

"Yeah."

"No. Just dance."

"If I told you that you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

"Do you think I'm a…." I search for the word. "A bimbo?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Because you think I will fall for a dumb pickup line. I am not going to sleep with you, Jason Powell."

"I wasn't thinking of sleeping."

"What were you thinking of?"

I turn around and grind back against him. I know exactly what he was thinking of. I can feel the evidence pressed against my rump.

Very hard, thick evidence. Heat floods my body, the first stirrings of desire. No, not the first, they're too strong to be the first. Something in my mind wakes up and wants me to bend over in front of him. I stop myself and push my back into his chest instead. I can still feel him throbbing against my butt. I want to turn around and leap on him and knock him to the floor. I've never felt this way before. It's intoxicating, gripping. I feel like my blood is on fire.

"I was thinking of how great you'd look on my bed while I rock your world."

"Hmm, good. You can think about that while you are alone with your hand tonight."

I turn around and give him a playful shove with one hand. He doesn't scowl or frown; he grins and steps closer, pulling me into him as we dance.

"Oh, so you're going to play hard to get."

"I'm impossible to 'get.' I am a princess. You should address me as your grace. That is my proper royal style."

"I think your proper style is your birthday suit," he says, running his hands up my sides.

How dare he! I should slap him, but I burst out laughing instead.