Exploring the Rules: An Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance Standalone Read online

  She gasps again, shifting her hips in a slow pattern as I draw my fingers over her again. Anyone who might glance in our direction would have a difficult time seeing anything, the space is heavily shadowed with the dim lighting, but her expression is so focused with control, I’m determined to challenge her and see if I can make her façade slip.

  “Take your panties off,” I whisper.

  She looks at me, doubt visible in her stare.

  I slip my finger across her clit, making her gasp. “Off.”

  She turns to look behind us, then slips her hands beneath my jacket and lifts slightly from her seat before getting her underwear to her knees. I hook my fingers into the fabric, sliding them the rest of the way and freeing them from her shoes. I press the silky fabric to my nose and breathe deeply, smelling her desire for me. I shove them into my pocket before resuming our position, weaving my left hand with hers and sliding my right hand between her thighs.

  I place my thumb on her clit, rubbing circles over her as I slide my middle finger lower and slowly inside her. Chloe gasps quietly, her lips parting as she raises her hips a bit higher to meet my touch. I gently thrust my fingers into her, changing the tempo of my thumb as I continue to massage her clit. Her grip tightens, and her thighs begin to tremble. I lessen the pressure, and her gaze swings to mine with a silent protest

  “It’s a two-hour show,” I tell her.

  She blinks, trying to find a foothold in her lust-drunken state.

  “Relax. I’ll get you there again.” I run my fingers through her folds, spreading her wider as I circle her clit with my middle finger as a sign of good faith.

  “I’m beginning to think you’re a sadist,” she says.

  I grin. “I warned you I was.” I increase my speed and tempo, and with her already being so sensitive, she reacts instantly, her legs spreading even wider as her hips flex again, pressing against my hand. I stop, running my fingers lower, back to her entrance where I slide two fingers inside of her, feeling her hips rock with an invitation.

  She closes her eyes, her breaths uneven for several seconds as she works to gain composure.

  I lean forward, grazing her ear with my lips. I lick her there, sliding my lips down to where her two earrings are, that I lap at with my tongue. “I want you to lose control,” I whisper.

  She looks at me, eyes dark with need. “There are people everywhere.”

  “Trust me,” I tell her, kissing her and following the edge of her jaw back to her ear. “Lose yourself to me, Chloe.” I slip my fingers back into her, rubbing her clit with my thumb. She glances at me, a silent plea to let her come as I work her back to the edge of another orgasm.

  She bites her lip, and I stop, her shoulders and thighs loosening instantly as her breath falls out in a disappointed rush. She reaches for her glass of champagne, drinking the remains in one drink.

  “What do you want?” she asks, her eyes ablaze with annoyance and desire.

  “I want to look at your face and know I’m fingering you. I want to see you lose composure.”

  She starts to shake her head. “There are so many people here.”

  I slide my fingers over her slick opening. “No one can see you. I wouldn’t let someone watch you come.”

  Her eyes widen again as she stares out at the hundreds of private suites we can look out upon that can do the same to us. It takes her only a second to realize she can’t see their faces or expressions, only their outlines. “They can’t see you,” I confirm, moving inside of her again. “Only I can see you.”

  She relaxes with a deep breath. Then begins to move her hips against my fingers. I reward her with a flick to her clit that has her dropping her head back against her seat. Then she reaches below the jacket with her right hand, grasping my left with her other hand, entwining our fingers as I finger fuck her, moving my thumb back to her clit as she rolls forward onto her toes, tilting her entrance higher.

  “There you go, baby,” I tell her, kissing along her slackened jaw as she rocks against my hand, her breaths becoming uneven and ragged. Her hand presses harder against mine, and I oblige, kissing the soft spot below her ear. She moans, and I kiss her lips, swallowing the sound as I increase the pressure of my fingers, keeping the same rhythmic pace with my thumb as her breaths come so fast and hard she can’t kiss me back. Her thighs tremble, and her fingers clench around mine as she groans her release around my fingers, and I kiss her, silencing her cries as she comes undone.

  20

  Chloe

  Blood is still rushing through my veins as I work to recover from my orgasm one hour and a glass of champagne later.

  I want to regret it—consider what we did as wrong or bad— but try as I might, I can’t find even a trace of shame for allowing him to finger me. And it’s not just that he touched me there, here, it’s how erotic and leisurely and infuriatingly demanding he was all at the same time. I’m terrified to consider if I’d even hesitate if he asked me to hitch up my dress and get on the floor on my hands and knees.

  And the way he continues to draw delicate patterns across my thigh is not helping me to think of anything else, even as the show continues. The music and acrobatics are beyond beautiful and shocking but pale in comparison to Tyler as he sits beside me, watching the show with a casualness that makes me almost want to scream. How is he not distracted? How is he not burning up from this inside out after that? Can I return the favor?

  My thoughts are racing as the crowd roars its applause, and the lights slowly bloom. The cast moves to the front of the stage, bowing as the crowds stand from their seats.

  Tyler is beside me, sending out a text as I try to recall details of the show so I can discuss them with Nessie and Coop so as not to reveal that I was distracted throughout nearly the entire production.

  “They’re going to meet us at the car,” Ty says, putting his jacket back on and tracing the slit of my dress that goes down my back with his fingertips. I shiver. It’s ridiculous and embarrassing how quickly my body reacts to him—traitorous, in fact. I try to recall that night at the hotel when he jumped in the pool naked and was inches away from me. How I’d managed to ignore him and not react because I’ve seen him at parties, shirtless and smiling at me with innuendos and promises that I managed to avoid and act almost entirely unfazed from. Now, I’m so damn desperate for his touch I’m considering asking him to have sex with me here and now, with the lights already on and people milling around freely.

  I’m pathetic.

  Tyler stares at me, his chin tilted as he stops, placing his other hand at my waist. “Was that too much? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  I shake my head. “You just seem so neutral and unaffected. I can’t tell if I did something or didn’t do something or…”

  His hand at my waist constricts. “No. God, no.” He shakes his head in rapid bursts, then he moves his hand from my back and wipes it down his face. He takes my hand and places it on his crotch so I feel his erection. “I don’t know what in the bloody hell happened for the past hour. I’ve been saying my ABC’s backwards and reciting the periodic table, trying to calm down and not rationalize begging you to leave with me to go back to the hotel.”

  I lean forward too fast, clumsily kissing him as our chests bump. I brace myself by gripping his broad shoulders, feeling the stacks of muscles under his light blue dress shirt. His fingers delve into my hair, his palm cradling my face as he matches my need and desire, nipping at my bottom lip with his teeth and then tracing the minor wound with his tongue.

  “Think Coop’s adjusted to us being together yet?” he asks.

  I shake my head, knowing that request is impossible, and yet hoping like hell he will accept it. “I hope so.”

  He chuckles at my contradiction, his lips so close to mine I can’t see it, but I feel the gentle rumble against my chest as I wind my arms tighter and kiss him again.

  “That show was incredible,” Nessie gushes as I slide into the backseat with her and Cooper. “I have now a
dded watching every one of their shows to my bucket list.”

  “What did you think, Coop?” I ask him.

  “It was good.”

  His simple and blasé answer has me peering around Nessie to look at him because my best friend is rarely simple and never blasé unless it comes to shoes or fashion. “You didn’t like it?”

  Nessie starts to giggle like a schoolgirl, throwing her head back as she leans into Cooper. “We barely watched it,” she admits. “I mean, we watched parts of it, but it was dark, and that show was so sexy, and we kind of turned our private room into the back of a movie theater and made out.”

  Cooper rubs his fingers over his eyes, and I can sense his embarrassment before he looks at me apologetically. I understand his contradiction that’s visible in his expression so well; the happiness and sadness. The thrill and regret. The excitement and melancholy. Because as they move forward and grow, our friendship changes. Some changes are minor and others greater, and this is just the beginning. I know that like me, he’s wondering how many more changes will come with me dating Tyler.

  We pull up to the hotel, where the valet opens our doors. Tyler climbs out of the car, his attention moving to me. “I need to grab a couple of reports. They’re going to renovate a portion of the gym, and I need to get approvals over before we leave in the morning. Coop, you want to check it out?” Ty asks.

  “Hell, yes.”

  “We’ll be up soon.” He kisses me sweetly. “My room tonight,” he whispers against my ear before pulling away.

  I feel lightheaded at the silent promise of staying with him tonight as he and Cooper disappear toward the front desk.

  “I wish we could stay longer, and at the same time, am exhausted and ready to go,” Nessie says, linking her arm with mine. “Does that make sense?”

  I nod, laughing at how well I understand.

  “The fountains are about to start! We’re going to miss them!” someone exclaims to their friend as they hurry past us.

  Nessie’s eyes grow round. “We haven’t seen the fountains.” She spins to face me. “We have to see the fountains.”

  I nod. “It’s a must.”

  Nessie grins. “Come on!” We head back outside, the air feeling warm in contrast to the air-conditioned lobby as we head in the direction of the iconic Fountains of Bellagio. Nessie fishes her phone out of her purse and starts texting Coop. “If I learned nothing else from Arizona, it was that we tell people where we’re going,” she says.

  I laugh. “Look at you, creating rules.”

  “I think I could live in the Southwest,” Nessie says as we weave through the crowds of people.

  Her words catch my attention. “Yeah?”

  She nods. “I like that it’s warm without the intense humidity and without storming every afternoon to hatch a million mosquitoes.”

  “You still have the desert and extreme heat.”

  Our heels clip along the sidewalk as we hurry toward the fountains, though they’ll play again shortly if we miss them. “Or maybe we just stay in Seattle,” she suggests. “I don’t like the dreary days, but I like the four seasons, and I really love the mountains.”

  “But what about the beach? Disney World? Walking outside during December in a T-shirt?” I ask.

  “I’ll miss that stuff, but I’m good with planning visits to do all that,” Nessie says with a gentle shrug like she’s already made up her mind. “In Seattle, we can still live by the beach or downtown or in one of those old neighborhoods with the Victorian houses you love so much.”

  Sometimes, these thoughts are paralyzing—the reality that we might be separated because of jobs or preferences—the reality we might choose to live on a separate coast than our family and all that we know and love. What will Cooper choose to do? What about Tyler?

  My solace is knowing we still have two years at Brighton before any of these decisions have to be made.

  “Did you really think Ty and I would get together?” I ask.

  Her eyes grow round with excitement. We’ve had so little time together to gossip and talk about things. Today, many of our spa treatments were individualized and had us separated. “Oh my gosh, Chloe, yes! I told you freshman year that you should date him. Remember?”

  “You also suggested I date Cooper freshman year,” I remind her.

  She cringes. “That was before Ty came into the picture. There’s something about him—about you guys together. I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but you just make sense. Like he brings out the playful side of you or something. Plus, he is so attentive to you. That’s how I knew you guys were going to get together. Like when you fell asleep on our first day on the way to New Orleans, he was the first to notice, and he turned down his music, and when we had to stop in Texas, he didn’t want you to go out to the car alone to get things, and he sent lunch to us when we were hiking. He notices things and pays attention. I’m convinced it was sexual tension that always made you guys fight.”

  “Pretty sure it was just him.”

  She laughs, pulling me tighter as she wraps her arm around my waist. “I’ve missed you these past few days.”

  I nod, leaning my head against hers. “I’ve missed you, too. But I’m glad you and Coop are so happy together. I should have been more supportive from the get-go.”

  She shakes her head. “Honestly, I’m glad you weren’t because it made me have to think about things and consider what it would be like. I had to move slower, and I think that helped ensure we were both ready and had the same intentions. And I think it makes sex better. Everything is so good with him.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head to stop the images from forming. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “But what he does with his hands,” Nessie says.

  “Nope. No. Nope.” I shake my head again. “I need some more time to get used to things before I start hearing these details.”

  She laughs at my discomfort, but it’s brief as the music for the fountains begins, and we race the rest of the way to catch the fountains dance in sync to the music.

  “Hey, are you guys sisters?” a guy asks us. He’s middle-aged with a grizzly beard and is wearing jeans and boots that make him stand out even more as a tourist. Beside him are three guys. One stands closer that the rest with dark hair, dark eyes, and a smirk that curls one side of his uneven mouth as he listens to our interaction, while the others peer at one of their phones.

  “You aren’t going to answer me?” he asks, his tone turning belligerent. It’s a situation I loathe because I’m a firm believer that everyone should act with grace and kindness, and yet I also hold strongly to the belief that politeness and obedience are oceans apart. “I think I have your card,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an entire stack of the hooker cards that are passed out on corners in Vegas.

  “Let’s go,” I say, grabbing Nessie’s hand and moving toward the walkway, content with seeing the fountains from another viewpoint—one far away from this guy.

  “Don’t get shy on me now,” he says, his boots loud as he trails behind us. “I just want to know if you offer a two-for-one deal because my buddy’s getting married…”

  I spin on my heel. “We’re not prostitutes, asshole.”

  He leers, his gaze never meeting my eyes.

  Jerk.

  “She talks,” he says.

  “Not to you,” Nessie says, grabbing my hand again.

  “Good. I prefer girls who are silent.” He reaches forward as though he’s going to touch one of us and stops when I swat his hand away.

  “You’re drunk,” I tell him. “You’re being an asshole, and you’re likely going to forget this moment tomorrow, but I’m going to warn you that girls stand up for each other. I scream for help and every woman here is going to be ready to kick you in your useless balls.”

  Two women standing near us step away from the fence. They look around our mom’s age. “I prefer to use my knee,” one of them says, her attention on the stranger.
r />   He raises his hands and takes a step back, chuckling like the situation is funny. “I just assumed twins, Vegas…” He shrugs.

  Nessie looks at me, her eyebrows lowered with anger, then looks beyond him at his group of friends who are still several feet back. “Friends of Neanderthal, your buddy needs a leash before he gets punched in the face.”

  A couple stops beside us, the guy glancing between the burly bearded jackass and us. “Everything okay?”

  The dark-haired friend of the jerk jogs over, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and redirecting him. “Sorry. Sorry,” he says, steering him back to their group.

  “You guys okay?” the guy asks again, his demeanor friendly but cautious.

  Nessie nods. “Yeah, thanks for stopping.” She looks at the two women. “And thanks for offering to knee him in the ballsack.”

  The woman who made the threat smiles. “I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to do it.”

  We’re still laughing when Cooper and Tyler appear, dressed in their suits as they laugh about something. The sight of them together—Cooper happy, Tyler unguarded—tugs at that space in my chest that has always noticed too much about Tyler. His friendship with Cooper is how, aside from all of his negative traits, I always knew he was a good guy because Coop’s acceptance and tolerance for bullshit is so low thanks to having wasted so much of it on his dad.

  Cooper’s smile falls as he looks at me, his gaze becoming severe as he scans the others around us. “What happened?” he asks, his focus jogging between Nessie and me.

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  Ty’s eyebrows are drawn as they come to a stop. “What’s wrong?”

  “Some guy just got mouthy with them, but they were amazing. You guys should be impressed with your girlfriends because they were strong and fearless and complete badasses,” one of the women who had stopped tells them.