Playing By The Rules (The Players)

I’M SO AMPED up over this “date” with Blair tonight, I went shopping for a new outfit to impress her, and I’m not about to look into any hidden meaning there might be in this endeavor of mine. I’m just accepting it, running with it and telling myself it’s no big deal. I needed new clothes anyway.

Uh huh.

I don’t come from Maguire wealth, but my father gives me enough money to pay for my college and living expenses, with some left over. He also bought me the Challenger because I needed a car and it was what he called a graduation gift.

More like it makes him feel better to give me expensive things since he wasn’t a great dad, but whatever. I’ll take it.

I got into Colorado University on a partial scholarship but not a full ride, and that’s okay since I was able to cover it. Football takes up most of my time, so it’s hard for me to get a job. I don’t spend a lot. I try to live frugally.

But tonight’s date feels like an event I could splurge on a little.

I ended up at a shopping center in town where I bought an entire outfit for myself, plus a new pair of shoes. Shit, I even bought new socks and underwear, reassuring myself that it’s all stuff I needed. I never go shopping, so I may as well take advantage while I’m here.

It’s not like I’m trying to impress Blair tonight. That’ll just give her hope that I’m taking whatever this is between us seriously, and I’m not.

No way can I actually think I have a chance with Blair.

After exiting the department store, loaded down with two bags full of stuff, I find myself wandering into one of those beauty/makeup stores, the place full of women. I’m the only guy there beyond a couple of employees. I immediately go to the men’s cologne section, thinking I might find something new for myself, but somehow, inexplicably, I end up in the women’s perfume section instead.

Directly in front of the Gucci display.

Goddamn, they make a lot of different perfumes. I rack my brain, trying to remember the name of the perfume Blair wears, and I’m standing in front of the display, slightly panicked when I hear a sweet voice come from behind me.

“Can I help you?”

I turn to find a woman about my mother’s age, standing in front of me, clad in all black with vivid red lipstick coating her lips. “Uh…”

“Are you looking for something in particular?” she presses.

“I can’t remember the name of it. I know it’s a Gucci perfume.” I’m starting to sweat from the pressure and I deal with pressure all the damn time out on the field, without ever freaking out like this.

“As you can see, there are plenty to choose from.” She waves her hand at the variety of perfumes on display. “Maybe one of the newer ones?”

“Maybe.” I’m hesitant only because, shit, I don’t know.

“This one was released recently.” She grabs a turquoise blue bottle from the shelf and that’s when it hits me. I remember Blair saying it was in that color bottle.

“Pretty sure that’s it.” I take the bottle of perfume, confused when she also hands me a thin white paper stick. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a blotter. You can spray the perfume onto it to see if it’s the correct one,” she gently suggests, waving the blotter at me.

I take it and aim the perfume nozzle at the paper stick before I spray. The scent hits me immediately, before I even bring the blotter to my nose, inhaling deeply. That’s it. The scent that Blair always wears.

The scent that practically brings me to my knees every time I catch a whiff of it.

“We offer a variety of sizes. Are you wanting to buy this as a gift?” the woman asks, her delicate brows lifting in question.

She already owns it. I hold the blotter stick to my nose again, taking another deep whiff. Floral and light and perfectly Blair. I wonder how long the scent lasts on paper.

“Sir?” the clerk asks when I still haven’t said anything.

“What about that small size.” I reach for the bottle that’s no bigger than a writing pen, holding it up. “How much is this?”

She quotes the price, and since it’s not awful, I somehow find myself at the register making the purchase. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this perfume. I sure as hell am not going to give it to Blair because she already owns it and would probably ask me what the fuck is it for. And I’m definitely not giving it to my mom, like I told Blair I would. The last thing I want is for my mom to smell like the woman I am in hot pursuit of, even though I shouldn’t be chasing after her.

Hot pursuit. That’s not necessarily true. I’m not chasing Blair. Not really. There are a million reasons why it would never work between Blair and me. Yet here I am, buying a perfume because she wears it. Buying new clothes so I can look good for her later tonight when I pick her up.

I’m acting like this is a date when it absolutely cannot be.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Once I’ve made my purchase, I hightail it out of there and head back to my apartment, jumping right into the shower the second I get home. I think of Blair as I stand under the hot spray of water and scrub my head with shampoo, and what I did to her last night.

Touching her like I did. Though she started it. Resting her hand on my leg. Sliding it up, curling her fingers around the inside of my thigh.

Then I remember how I rested my hand on top of hers to keep it there, and yeah, I’m just as much to blame as she is.

She brushed those fingers right across my cock and it sprang to life.

Kind of like it’s doing right now.

Giving in, I wrap my fingers around my dick and start stroking, my eyes falling closed as I imagine a different scenario playing out with Blair last night. Me slipping my hand beneath her jeans. Beneath her panties. Finding her wet and hot, testing her. Teasing her clit. Thrusting my fingers deep inside her tight heat.

My strokes increase. I lean against the shower wall, pressing my lips together to muffle the groan that slips out.

She would’ve spread her legs wider to give me better access, all while trying her best to pretend it wasn’t happening. She’d smile and keep up the conversation with Ace while I was secretly getting her off, but she’d grow weaker. Until eventually, she would give in, her lips parting, her eyes closing, a soft moan escaping her.

That imagined sweet sound makes my muscles grow tight and my balls tingle. I’m on the verge, just like that.

Another image comes to mind. Blair joining me in the shower. Completely naked. On her knees in front of me, drenched by the water, her lush lips parted as I feed her my dick, inch by inch, until I’m hitting the back of her throat. She takes it all, groaning around my shaft, her eyes locking with mine as she pulls me out and licks at just the head with an exaggerated swipe of her tongue.

I’m coming with that visual still in my head, my groans loud, the semen that coats my fingers immediately washed away by the shower. I’m left a shaky mess, glad Knox isn’t home, so he can’t hear me and give me shit later. I have no idea where he is and I’m just grateful I don’t have to answer to him when he asks where I’m going when I try to leave the apartment.

Escorting your hot as fuck sister to a frat house party. No big.

He’ll figure it out soon enough, though. Ace didn’t just invite us. He probably invited the entire team and I know a few of the guys will show up. Hell, several members of our team are in the same fraternity Ace is. I show up there with Blair tonight? They’re all going to be talking about it tomorrow at practice.

And Knox will hear everything from someone else before he hears it from me.

That’ll fucking suck.

“This is a shit idea and I don’t think we should go to that party together,” I announce to Blair as soon as she opens the door.

She comes to a standstill, her hand on the door handle, her other hand propped on the door frame, a frown on her pretty face. Her hair is curled into loose waves that cascade past her shoulders, covering her chest, and my gaze drops, widening when I take in what she’s wearing.

“No way.” I shake my head. “Uh uh.”

“What?”

“Your…dress.” If you can call it that. “You can’t wear that to the party.”

She glances down at herself before lifting her head, her gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong with it?”

It shows off her gorgeous body, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself around her tonight. It’s strapless. White with little pink flowers scattered all over it. The top wraps around her tits and there’s a bow in the center of her chest. Like I could pull it and expose her completely. There’s a matching tie around her waist, like a belt? I don’t know, but the skin below the tie is exposed, meaning I can see her belly button.

I scrub a hand over my face, hating my life.

The skirt is fitted, ending with a ruffle at the hem, and it hits her about mid-thigh. She has on tan, strappy flat sandals, so at least she’s not in heels, but fuck.

She’s going to give me a heart attack, I swear to God.

When I still haven’t answered, her frown deepens.

“I thought it was pretty.” Her voice is small and she sounds disappointed, which makes me feel like shit.

“It’s pretty. You look gorgeous,” I rush to say, noting the smile that appears on her face. I feel like I just got played to admit that out loud. “But there’s so much skin exposed.”

“Too much?” She lifts her brows, making a face.

Yes, I want to shout. Way too much. I don’t want any other motherfucker looking at you like I’m looking at you currently. All I want is to undo the ties at her chest and her waist, preferably with my teeth.

“Yeah,” I croak, scratching the side of my neck. “Your brother would kill me if I let you go out dressed like that.”

“Good thing Knox won’t be there then.” She pulls the door shut behind her and that’s when I notice she’s got a tiny purse hanging from her shoulder.

Her scent hits me like a drug as she walks past, floral and warm and sweet. I trail after her like a dog sniffing out a treat, my gaze going to her ass and the way it shifts enticingly beneath the tight fabric of her dress.

I’m going to die tonight. Die of either overwhelming lust or I’ll die defending the honor of my best friend’s sister when I catch some jackass staring at her when she walks past him.

I pick up my speed as I watch her head for the Challenger, hitting unlock on the key fob, so she can open her own door. I’d open it for her, but the girl is somehow too fast for me, slipping into the passenger seat and disappearing with a gentle slam of the door.

Jogging toward my car, I open the door and slip inside, overwhelmed by the scent of her when I shut it. I glance over at her to find she’s already watching me, an expectant look on her face, her hands resting on her bare thighs.

That fucking skirt is way too short, but I keep my mouth shut. Her scent is even more intensified inside my car, and I wonder if she bathed in it. And when I look a little more closely, I swear there’s some sort of sheen covering her skin, like her lotion had glitter in it or something, and fuck me running, I am in big, massive trouble tonight.

“Are you ready to go?” she asks when I still haven’t started the car.

“Oh yeah.” The engine roars to life and I floor it while still in park, enjoying the sound. Trying to concentrate on that versus the beautiful woman sitting mere inches away from me. It would take nothing to reach out and touch her. Streak my fingers down her arm. Across her chest. Toy with the fabric that’s tied at the center of her chest.

“Let’s go then,” she suggests, laughing when I back out of the parking space with squealing tires before I throw the car in drive and blast out of there like I’ve just robbed a bank and I’m desperate to get away from the cops.

“You’re crazy,” she says, watching me with laughing eyes.

I smile at her before I pull out onto the street. “I think you like it.”

“You don’t know how much.”