Playing Hard to Get (The Players)

“I THINK I’m hot for my tutor.” I drop onto the couch right next to Cam. He’s playing video games, his gaze laser-focused on the big screen TV in front of him, his fingers flying over the buttons on the controller.

Normally, I’d be playing with him, but I don’t feel like it. I can’t concentrate for shit. All I can think about is the conversation I had with Joanna yesterday. How I started it by rubbing my leg against hers, like we’re in middle school.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Cam hits pause so he can focus on me. “Hot for who?”

“My tutor. Joanna. The girl at the bookstore.” I sound miserable. I feel miserable.

I dreamed about her last night. She got me alone in the meeting room at the library, her lips pursed into a sexy little smirk as she slowly stripped, a private show just for me. She was wearing glasses like only a hot little tutor would wear, her long, dark hair in a high ponytail that she swung around like a fucking professional stripper. Then she got on her knees, yanked my shorts off and gave me the best blow job of my life.

Woke up to a raging hard-on that fucking ached. I jerked off to thoughts of Joanna licking my cock. Getting cum all over her face. Little dots of it across the bridge of her nose, like her freckles.

See? I’ve fucking lost it.

“The girl we saw at lunch last week?” Cam asks, pulling me from my dirty thoughts.

I nod.

“She’s kind of hot.”

“Jesus, you think so?” Jealousy floods my veins. “Don’t even look at her, you hear me?”

Cam barks out a laugh. “What the hell, man? You sound all territorial and shit.”

He resumes playing his game while I sit there fuming. Pissed at his words. Frustrated by my reaction. Weirded out by the entire scenario.

“I should switch tutors.”

“Is she that distracting?”

“We flirted most of yesterday’s session.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Did you get your homework done or whatever?”

“Well…yeah. We worked on my assignment,” I answer. “We also talked about our lacking sex lives.”

He sends me a quick look. “She’s lacking in the sex department?”

“Broke up with her boyfriend, who was cheating on her, at the beginning of summer.”

Cam scowls. “What a bastard.”

“Right? Fuck that guy.” Who’d cheat on Joanna? She’s so…interesting. And smart. Easy to talk to. Pretty.

So fucking pretty.

“Hey, flirting is harmless. Talking about sex is harmless. You fuck her? You owe Derek a thousand bucks. And you break the promise you made to yourself.”

It’s official. I’m miserable with my life choices. “I should’ve never agreed to it. Now it’s all I can think about.”

“What is all you can think about?”

“Sex! Getting off.” I practically growl.

Cam laughs, the jerk. “Sounds like you and your hand are going to become best friends over the next couple of months.”

“This is some shit.” I shake my head. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m hot for her because she’s the only female my age I’m having consistent contact with.”

“It’s possible. Though I saw a couple of chicks throw themselves at you Monday night at Logan’s and you pushed them away.”

I remember those girls he’s talking about and grimace. “I’m tired of going to Logan’s.”

I’m also tired of the same women trying to get in my pants. I’m exhausted at the thought of fighting off more nameless, faceless women the rest of the season. Is that what I have to look forward to?

God, it sounds so…empty.

My best friend throws the controller onto the floor. “What the fuck? Are you sick, man? I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“I’m not sick.” I laugh, though the sound lacks humor, so I stop. “I’m just…I’m fucking horny.”

He makes a grossed-out face. “I can’t help you with that problem.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t want you to help me with that problem.”

I want Joanna Sutton, my tutor, to help me, but she can’t. She’s like forbidden fruit I’m dying to sample. Or the chocolate cake that I never crave yet now want all the time.

I just want a taste.

Just one.

“Is kissing going against my vows?” I ask Cam, needing an honest answer. “Foreplay? Does that shit count?”

The skeptical look he sends my way is giving me hell yes vibes. “If there’s anything that involves getting naked happening, then yes. You’re, uh, breaking your vows.”

“Uh huh.” My mind wanders. I’ve never been one to just make out—well, not since high school anyway. Kissing leads to everything else, and this is where I can admit something to myself.

I’m a selfish asshole most of the time, who rushes the kissing to get to the good stuff.

“Anything with clothes on, I think you can get away with.”

I Google the definition of celibate on my phone, which isn’t any help. Everyone has different definitions of the word. For some, it’s abstaining from all sexual relations. For others, it’s just abstaining from sexual intercourse and that’s it.

“If you’re thinking about going to the bars downtown and making out with all kinds of women, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Cam says wryly. “Derek will catch you and demand you pay up.”

I remember what Joanna said. Everything that happens in that little room we meet in, stays in that room. Like freaking Las Vegas.

Wonder if she’d be interested in a make-out sesh?

Yeah, doubtful. She’d probably tell me to kiss her ass.

I’m still thinking about Joanna and her perfect ass when I enter the meeting room the next afternoon. I’m ten minutes early, and she’s already there, looking hot as fuck wearing a sweater that clings to her tits, emphasizing her curves. They’re not too big and they’re not too small. They’re just fucking right.

Because of course they are.

Her hair is straight and tucked behind her ears, and when she glances up at me, her gaze warms in greeting. “Hey.”

My entire body is on high alert at her open friendliness. This is bad.

So fucking bad.

I flop into the chair across from her, my backpack falling at my feet and hitting the floor with a thud. She’s got her ever-present iPad in front of her and she sends me a sympathetic look, as if she knows I’m suffering and she wants to help in any way possible.

This, of course, gets my hopes up.

“Hi,” I finally say, when I realize I haven’t greeted her at all. “How are you?”

“I’m great.” She tilts her head to the side, her delicate brows drawing together. As if I confuse the shit out of her. Welcome to my club, lady. “How are you?”

“Fucking fantastic.” She doesn’t even flinch at my use of the f-bomb, which I appreciate. “I finished the book.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “You did? That’s so great! What did you think of it?”

“I liked it.” I got so annoyed with Cam last night after our stupid conversation that I locked myself in my room, popped in my AirPods, turned on the audiobook and listened to that thing for the rest of the evening. It was a good story that kept me entertained, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to recall all of the meaningful stuff for my essay. Or the possible test. I’m sure she’ll test us. Our professor is sadistic like that.

Or maybe I will remember all of the learning points. Shit, I don’t know. I don’t have much faith in myself with this sort of thing, considering my past.

“I’m so glad.” She smiles, looking pleased with herself. Pleased with me. “It was a good book, am I right?”

“It really was. Maybe that’s how I should read all of my books.”

“It might help.” She takes a deep breath. “So. I’ve been thinking about you since we last met up.”

Wait a minute. What?

A buzzing starts in my head and my heart thumps harder. She’s been thinking about me? Like I’ve been thinking about her? Because that’s all I’ve done. Sweet little Jo Jo has been on my mind all the damn time.

“…and I’m wondering if you should get reevaluated.” The look she sends me is filled with concern. “In regards to your dyslexia. The tests are better now than when we were in elementary school. It might help to pinpoint your weaknesses and strengths.”

All my hopes and lust come crashing down around me, leaving me wrecked. And not in a good way. “I, uh, haven’t considered it.”

“You should.” She rests her arms on top of the desk, leaning forward. My gaze drops to her chest, how her tits rest on top of the table, and I stare at them like I can’t see anything else. “I think it could help. Or maybe not. It’s up to you.”

“Sure.” There’s a thin gold chain around her neck with a tiny charm dangling from it, and I wonder if her ex gave it to her. If he did, why is she still wearing it? Does he matter that much to her? Does she still want that asshole despite everything he’s done to her?

“I can set up an appointment for you if you’d like. Or if you’d rather take care of it yourself, that’s fine too.” She shifts away from the table and I finally lift my gaze to hers. “I just wanted to offer some help.”

“I appreciate it.” I zero in on her lips. They’re pink and lush and her lower lip is extra plump. I wouldn’t mind sinking my teeth into it. Would she like that? A little bit of pain with her pleasure? I’m not some dominant asshole who gets off on spanking women, but I have no problem with experimenting.

“Of course.” Her smile is pleasant. Almost business-like. “Do you need to keep working on your essay? Did you get any feedback on your first paragraph yet?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I turned the paragraph in yesterday. Hope to hear something by the end of today.”

“Oh.” She nods, grabbing her iPad and scanning it. “No other assignments that are due?”

“Nope.”

“Any past due?”

“Uh uh.”

Her gaze barely lifts to meet mine. “Then what are we supposed to do today?”

I swallow hard, thinking of all things I’d like to do to her. “I don’t know.”

She leans back in her chair, studying me. “Should we work more on your reading?”

I’m grimacing. I can feel it. That’s pretty much the last thing I want to work on. “I guess so.”

“Let me pick out something for you to read then.” She starts tapping away on the screen, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she concentrates, and I stifle the groan that wants to escape. I imagined biting that same lip not even five minutes ago. “Okay, here we go.”

Joanna flips the iPad around and sets it in the middle of the table. I pick it up, glancing over the paragraphs of words, dreading the idea of reading for the next—I check the time—sixty-two minutes.

Talk about a living nightmare.

Clearing my throat, I set the iPad in front of me, hoping that what I’m about to read isn’t totally boring.

“I’ll come sit by you.” She jumps to her feet and rounds the table, settling into the empty chair right next to mine. “That way I can see if you struggle with a word.”

All right. This is better. She scoots closer to me, her arm bumping against mine briefly, and I inhale as discreetly as possible, breathing in her sweet, slightly spicy scent. I glance to my right and watch, transfixed as she tucks strands of dark hair behind her left ear, and when she lifts her head, she catches me staring.

I don’t look away. It’s like I can’t. This is some crazy shit. It’s obvious I need to get laid when I’m fascinated with a girl tucking her fucking hair behind her ear.

“Are you ready?” she prompts.

Nodding, I return my attention to the iPad and start reading.