Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(12)
"Right, the guy you ran off on after he rattled your insides like no other guy has before.” She shakes her head like a disappointed parent.
Brushing off her last few words, I bite my cheek. “You would have acted the same way. He’s too hot, you know? Like the hot you can only read about.”
Right,” she drawls. “Silly me to think you would have stayed for at least one more orgasm before ditching.”
Thoughts of what would have happened if I hadn’t run out before Braden woke up have been festering all day. Would we have avoided the painful good morning and moved straight to slipping back under the sheets? Or would he have looked at me with regret and revulsion, questioning why I was still in his bed? I’m not sure the risk of maybe having his tongue between my thighs again would have been worth the embarrassment.
“How did it go after I left you and Ethan alone, anyway? You haven’t said anything.” I change the subject with a newly formed twist in my belly and adjust my sunglasses to distract myself before I can dwell on it for too long.
“Before or after we came here?” she asks indifferently, playing coy.
“You came here?” I ask, startled. “And?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.” She fights back a grin and her neck flushes.
I send her a pointed look. One that says, you’re really going to pull that shit? “Hypocrisy at its finest.”
“You love me anyway.”
“I do. And if you love me, you’ll let me out of this damn sun before I turn into a lobster. You know how bad I burn.”
Her dramatic sigh has my lips tugging up as I slide my sunglasses up into my hair and stand up.
I walk around her parent’s large, rectangular pool and pull open the glass patio door. Sophie’s sandals slide across the patio tiles as she steps up behind me. A searing pain flames from my shoulder when she flicks my burning back, giggling maniacally before pushing past me.
“Sophie!” I shriek and chase after her, face tense with irritation. Her laughter reverberates through the house and weakens my resolve. Damn her for falling into the vacant spot of best friend all those years ago. She’s exhausting, but I don’t think that I could imagine her any other way.
Chapter Six
Braden
I peel my eyes open, my lips tipping in a lazy smile with the memories of last night. I stretch my arm across the cold sheets, scowling when I don't make contact with the warm body I was expecting. I search the room but come up short of anything but the searing feeling of disappointment.
And here I thought I was going to start my day with breakfast.
My eyes move around the room in search of the clothes that were ripped from her body last night. She could just be in the bathroom or something. Right? The gnawing in my stomach becomes more intense when I don't see her clothes. I groan, the sound a mixture of pure sexual frustration and . . . rejection? I push myself out of bed and pull on a pair of sweatpants from the dirty laundry bin.
I yank open my bedroom door and breathe in the rich smell of coffee before spotting Clayton draped over the couch. Dressed in only a pair of black boxer briefs, he covers his bare stomach with a bowl of Lucky Charms, milk splattered on his pecs.
"Sierra’s not here," he sings while watching last night's Vancouver Warrior’s hockey game on our shared flatscreen. I don’t watch a lot of hockey anymore. It unsettles me now more than anything. I guess giving up on one passion to pursue another does that to a person. I gave up hockey for boxing and tried to never look back. Some days I stumble and find myself reminiscing, though. Those are days that I like to forget, sunk deep inside of a woman who won’t care if I remember her name in the morning. A woman who doesn’t know the old me. The one that I’ve become accustomed to forgetting.
"What did you do to her?" I move towards him, feeling my skin start to beat with warmth. My harsh tone grasps his attention. He turns to look at me, eyes rolling dramatically but the hint of curiosity obvious by the twitch in his brow.
"Me? Nothing. You, on the other hand,” he sighs. "She couldn't seem to get out of here fast enough. Are you having problems in the sack? It’s okay if you are. I won’t judge you.”
The devilish grin tugging at his lips makes me think otherwise. "Fuck off.” I glare at his back, throwing up my middle finger. "Did she say why she was leaving?"
"Nope. But she did look quite upset." I lose his attention as soon as the Warrior’s buzzer sounds, the signal that the opposing team scored a goal. “Stop sleeping, defence! What the fuck!”
Yeah. What the fuck? She was upset? After that mind-blowing sex? Yeah right. I might be an egotistical asshole, but I know when I satisfy a woman. And last night, she was more than satisfied.
"Her loss,” I mutter. I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or Clayton at this point.
I head towards the bathroom, passing my room on the way. I fight back the urge to take a can of Febreeze to the whole fucking thing when the smell of her still lingers in the air, clinging on to every possible surface. I curse under my breath. Just the memory of her sprawled out, exposed and eager for me, on my bed is enough to make my dick harden. I don't know if I should feel surprised or pissed that she left without saying goodbye. Maybe I should be relieved. Everything I remember from our conversation outside the club doesn’t lead me to believe that she’s my type at all. High strung, smart-mouth women are more Clayton’s style. Alcohol was probably the only reason why I found her tolerable last night.