Playing By The Rules (The Players)

IT’S late and I’m half-dozing, half-awake when I hear Cam’s bedroom door open. I crack open my eyes to watch him creep into the room, closing and locking the door behind him before he leans against it and just watches me.

My heart threatens to burst. This man.

I pretend I’m asleep as he makes his way to the bed, removing items of clothing as he does. He bends over me, whispering my name, and I shift a little but otherwise don’t respond.

I want to see what he’s going to do to wake me up.

More clothes are removed and he rounds the bed, climbing under the covers until he’s directly behind me, yanking the comforter over us. He’s big and warm and mostly naked, his chest pressing against my back as he carefully slips his arm around my waist, his big hand slipping under his jersey and pressing against my stomach.

I rest my hand over his, letting him know I’m awake, and he nuzzles my neck, his lips moving against my skin as he murmurs, “You wore my jersey.”

His hand slides down lower, over my bare ass.

“And nothing else,” I whisper.

“I’ve missed you,” he confesses.

“It’s only been a couple of hours.”

“No, I mean over the last month.” He pauses. “I thought I lost you.”

His voice is so serious, and I’m wide awake now. “You didn’t.”

“Thank you for waiting for me, even when I probably didn’t deserve it.”

I go stiff in his arms. “Don’t start with that kind of talk.”

“You’re right.” He kisses my neck. Then my shoulder. “Hard habit to break.”

I slowly turn in his arms until I’m facing him, streaking my fingers down his bare chest, impressed with all the hard muscle I feel there. I scoot backward, wishing the light was on so I could really check him out, but I can tell. “You are bigger.”

“I told you.” He sounds proud of himself. “I’m working out all the time.”

“It shows.” I trace my fingers down the center of his pecs. “Are you tired?”

“Exhausted.” He kisses my forehead. I like how he can’t seem to keep his lips off me. “But never too tired for you.”

“We don’t have to—”

“I have been thinking about you in my jersey, waiting in my bed and nothing else for the entire ride home. We’re doing this.” His voice is firm and he sits up, reaching over to turn on the lamp that sits on his nightstand.

I hold my hand up in front of my face like I’m a vampire. I’m even hissing. “That is so bright.”

“I wanted to look at you.” His touch is gentle when he grips my wrist. “Come on.”

He removes my hand from my face and I let my arm drop to my side, sitting up. Letting him look his fill. His gaze roams over me. My messy bed hair, my sleepy face. The jersey hanging on me. I probably don’t look great. I wonder if he’s disappointed.

“You look sexy wearing my number,” he practically growls.

Oh. Wrong assessment on my part.

“Even though it’s gone from here.” He reaches for me, his thumb streaking across my cheek.

“I had to wash my face.”

“I know.” He cups my cheeks, bringing me in for a kiss. “You’re so pretty. I love you.”

The tears threaten and I try to blink them away. But it just feels so good, hearing him say the words so easily. “I love you too.”

He frowns. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m emotional.” I take a heaving, shuddery breath. “It’s been an emotional day. We’re back together. You won your game. You told me you loved me on the Jumbotron.”

“Pretty epic, am I right?” He raises his brows, his thumbs drifting across my face as he still holds it in his hands.

I nod, my gaze locking with his. “You didn’t really check to see what I was wearing under the jersey.”

His frown returns. “Yeah, I did.”

I’m teasing. “Maybe you should check again.”

He grins.

So do I.

Right before he reaches for me, making me shriek, and I press my face into the pillow as he tickles my waist. My stomach. His touch gentles, his fingers drifting over my hip bone. My butt. Slowly flipping me over so I’m lying on my back, Cam hovering above me, shoving at the hem of the jersey and pushing it upward until my breasts are exposed.

“Should we take this off?” His gaze lifts to mine, his fingers clutched around the hem of the shirt.

“I thought maybe you’d fuck me while I’m wearing your number.”

“Oh, Bumblebee.” He shakes his head. “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, you go and say something like that.”

“I thought you might like it,” I whisper as he lets go of my shirt, shifting so he can kiss me.

“I love it.” He kisses me deep, his tongue doing a thorough sweep. “I love you.”

We kiss and touch each other, my hands eager this time around because it’s been far too long and his body has turned into an even more beautiful work of art. I put my hands on him everywhere I can reach, purposely ignoring his erection, which is currently threatening to pop out of the front of his boxer briefs. He groans when I trace the waistband of his boxers, trying to grab my hand, but I pull away every time, always just out of reach.

Always driving him wild.

It’s nothing but kissing and thrusting and rubbing and grinding and finally, he’s whispering in my ear, “I want to fuck you from behind.”

“Okay,” I readily agree, breathless with anticipation.

“So I can see my number on you,” he continues.

“Sounds hot.”

“It will be.” He reaches around me, palming one ass cheek, his fingers close to my pussy. When he brushes against it, I moan and he snatches his hand away from me, filling me with disappointment.

Looks like we’re both playing that game.

More kissing and stroking and teasing, and it’s only when we’re panting against each other’s mouths he finally says, “Get on your hands and knees for me, B.”

I press my hand against his chest, his eyes opening to study me. “No condom?”

His brows draw together. “That’s some risky shit, baby.”

“I’m on birth control.” I swallow hard. “It won’t be as risky.”

“I’m clean,” he says, his voice low. “They just ran a bunch of tests on me.”

“I want to feel you,” I whisper. “Please?”

His kiss is fierce, his tongue doing a sweep of my mouth before he murmurs against my lips, “I want to feel you, too.”

I get into position, on my hands and knees in the center of the mattress, still wearing the jersey. I’m hot, the back of my neck sticky with sweat, and when the mattress dips, I can feel him behind me just before he rests his hand on my hip.

And slaps my ass with the other hand.

“Oh!” I jolt against his palm, shocked and aroused. “Pull my hair.”

He starts to laugh. “You’re fucking wild, B.”

“I swear only you bring it out of me,” I confess, leaning into his soothing palm as he rubs it all over my ass.

“Keep it that way, okay?”

Within seconds, he’s sliding inside me, his thick cock filling me completely. We stay in that position for a few seconds, adjusting to the connection, the way his erection throbs deep within me. I start to move first, slow and steady, his hands gripping my waist, helping me increase my pace.

“Fuck, this is hot, watching my cock disappear inside you,” he whispers, his voice harsh.

I squeeze my inner walls around him, making him groan and I lean forward, resting on my elbows, my ass in the air as he continues to thrust. Driving himself inside me again and again.

I moan every time he slides inside, my eyes tightly closed, one hundred percent focused on how he’s making me feel. Tingles race across my skin, gathering in my stomach, radiating outward, flowing through my blood. I’m sweaty. Mindless. Weightless. And when he presses his thumb against my back hole, increasing his pace at the same time, that’s it.

I’m coming.

Crying out into his stupid flat pillow, I clutch it to my face, my inner walls rhythmically squeezing, pulling the orgasm right out of him. I can feel him come inside me, filling me up, and I realize that’s the first time I’ve ever felt that before.

“Fuck,” he says once he’s come back down to earth, his voice rough. He clears his throat and pulls out of me carefully. “That was…”

“Incredible?” I offer as a suggestion.

“Yeah.” He touches me, his fingers drifting across my pussy and making me shudder. “Hold on. Stay right there. I’ll be back.”

He dashes into his bathroom and I hear water running. I scoot forward, staying in position, and pull open the nightstand drawer, hoping I’ll find some tissue when my fingers curl around something else instead.

I pull it out, holding it up. A travel-sized perfume.

The scent I wear.

Huh.

He returns to the bed with a warm, damp washcloth in his hand and proceeds to clean me up, his touch gentle. Arousing. Until I’m feeling needy all over again and his fingers slide in between my thighs, a questioning look on his face.

I shove the perfume under a pillow, nodding frantically.

He strokes me. Soft and slow. Hard and fast. Slides a finger inside me. Then another. Fucking me with his fingers, his thumb brushing against my clit. I come again, the pulsing waves making it hard for me to speak. To think. His touch gentles, pulling the rest of the orgasm out of me, until I’m a clingy, sweaty mess, wrapped all around him.

Cam runs his hand up and down my back, murmuring comforting words and reminding me why I love him.

He’s gentle when he needs to be, and dirty too. I love the contradictions. The way he treats me. The way he loves me.

“I still can’t believe you did that,” I tell him later, when we’re snuggling together in his bed, my head on his arm and his finger drifting back and forth across my stomach.

“Did what?”

“Told me you love me on national television.”

“It wasn’t really on television,” he protests.

“Yes, it was. Check your phone and see.”

He reaches over and plucks his phone off the nightstand, opening it up and going right to the ESPN app to find that our story is on the main page.

College QB Declares His Love for His GF Live!

“Oh God,” he groans. “Our entire relationship has been reduced to a headline.”

“I think it’s fun.”

“You would,” he teases, depositing his phone back on the nightstand.

Which reminds me.

“Oh hey. I found something.” I keep my voice purposely nonchalant.

“What did you find?”

I turn and reach beneath the other pillow, pulling out the travel perfume and thrusting it in his face. “This.”

His face falls. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Why do you have it?”

He’s wincing. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I have all night.” If this is some other girl’s perfume, I’m going to be livid.

But something is telling me that’s not the case.

A sigh leaves him and he launches into it.

“Remember that night I picked you up and took you to the frat party?”

“Yes.”

“I went shopping. Bought myself a new outfit.”

“To impress me?” I tilt my head back, kissing the underside of his jaw. “It worked.”

He squeezes me closer. “I ended up in that one makeup store. That starts with an S?”

“Sephora?”

“That’s the one. I was looking at the perfumes. Gucci makes a lot of them. I remembered you told me that’s what your scent was. Gucci. And that the bottle was turquoise. I was spraying some of them and the lady was helping me, and then I recognized your scent.” He pauses. “So I had to buy it.”

“For yourself?” I’m confused.

“Well…yeah. Sometimes, especially for the last month, I’d just spritz it in the air and pretend you were there.” He groans, pressing his face against my hair. “That’s fucking pathetic.”

“No, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” I rest my hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Enough to confess when I do something embarrassing.”

I kiss him. “It’s not embarrassing. It’s—romantic.”

“Oh God, I don’t know what’s worse.”

“Face it, Camden Fields, you’re a romantic at heart.”

“Only for you.”

Only for me.