Page 32 of Wicked Player

Too bad that after three days, I still couldn’t get her out of my head.

Which was why I called Tristan immediately following our win over Atlanta this afternoon. The game was hard fought, too many errors and penalties on both teams. It was ugly and vicious. The winning touchdown coming with three seconds left, a pass I caught in the end zone, thrown by our quarterback Beaux Hale. It was ridiculous how he could land the ball straight into my hands when I was double-teamed by Atlanta’s best defenders.

The amount of adrenaline still heating my veins was insanity.

Which meant tonight would be even more adventurous than the other. And if Miss Hayes still enjoyed it, then I’d have to figure out what to do afterward.

I knocked once to let her know I was coming. The instructions had been the same. Blindfolded and sitting on the bed, however this time I’d requested she remains clothed.

I craved the idea of undressing her, revealing her flesh to me in incremental measures while I bathed her skin in my kisses and torture. Exactly like I’d wanted to do at the dinner.

Hot damn. I was already rock hard at the mere thought of the beauty waiting for me.

I opened the door and stepped in. Like last time, my heart stalled for a brief moment and it took me a second to remember how to breathe.

So damn beautiful. Toes painted a light pink curled into the plush white rug at her feet. Simple black dress rode high on her trim thighs. A low scooped neckline showed off her throat. Beautiful and long, tight sleeves, drew my gaze to her hands clasped elegantly in her lap.

“You’re stunning,” I said.

She lifted her head so if she wouldn’t have been wearing a blindfold, her eyes would have met mine. A tiny hint of a frown line peeked out from above the top of the black satin coming from between her eyes.

My spine straightened as she nibbled her lip. Did she recognize my voice after hearing it in person over the last weekend?

I’d been close to her too many times. When that asshole reporter, Connor, made her uncomfortable at the dinner Friday night. She had several opportunities to link my voice with the man who made her scream. Plus, she was a reporter. She was trained to sniff out news and follow her instincts.

She seemed almost hesitant, slowing drawing out her reply. “Thank you, John.”

I stepped closer, slipping out of my shoes and shucking off my gray thermal. As soon as I got her undressed, I wanted our bodies pressed together. Keeping my pants on would ensure I didn’t move too quickly once they were.

My dick was already pressed against the zipper of my black dress pants, craving its release and freedom into the heat of her.

I adjusted myself as I stepped toward her. It was futile. I was too hard and rubbing myself only made things worse.

“Stand up,” I said. I left enough space between us so I could take in every movement she made. She stood elegantly, like she’d spent years in ballet shoes. Her movements were lithe and smooth, a gracefulness born of years of training and all she’d done was stand the hell up.

And I didn’t know that from seeing her a few times. Since she’d bombarded me in Brandon’s room, I’d spent more than a reasonable amount of time watching her old news stories online. She had enthralled Brandon. He was almost as excited to see her as he’d been to see me the first few times I walked into his room.

Pretty wasn’t the word for Elizabeth either. Elegant and refined. She put excitement and joy and a light I rarely saw in people into the most mundane stories. No person should get excited or find so much laughter in a news segment about a VFW’s fish fry and steak night as Elizabeth did telling the story of the small town with some of the best eats in the state.

I’d now spent days fantasizing about how red her ass would look when I got my hand on it for following me.

She didn’t walk in with a notebook and pen in her hand, dying to get the story. She’d appeared embarrassed at being caught and instantly, she became friends with Brandon, asking abouthimand not his illness. Not how we knew each other. Sure we took some photos at his request. The two of us. The three of us, all happily snapped by Penny who stood in the corner with tears in her eyes.

Some were happy ones.

Most were because she’d recently gotten news that the possibility of Brandon ever leaving that ugly ass hospital room was dropping by the day.

But now it was Elizabeth standing before me, and I had to get my shit together.

To spank her properly, I needed to be fully engaged.

“Turn around.” Her dress was skintight and as I assumed, a zipper appeared down the back of her dress.

“What are you going to do?”

I tsk’ed twice. She knew better than to ask. “Ah, whatever I want, little one. You ready?”

“Yes. Whatever you’d like.”

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