Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance by Eve Maddox Read Free Book Online

these people live for.
    I don’t want to admit it, but Murray’s right about this.
    “What about Riley, though? Will Coach Jackson be able to talk him into doing it? I wasn’t exactly friendly to him this afternoon.”
    “Whatever you said or did, let’s put that to one side,” Murray says. “Riley will be there. I’ll sort it out.”
    Then he hangs up. No goodbye, no ‘Thanks for prostituting yourself for your father’s career, Ava,’ no nothing. I have to wonder if he’s anyone to be lecturing my dad about seeming cold and robotic.
    “What was that about?” Darcey asks as I stare down at my now silent phone.
    “Murray says I have to see Riley again,” I tell her, feeling irritation well up in my chest. “He’s already arranged like… some photoshoot or something. Ugh.”
    I suppress the urge to throw my phone across the room. I have no idea what this photoshoot is going to involve, but I already know I’m not going to like it.
    When I look up, Darcey is staring at me with narrowed eyes.
    “What?” I ask irritably.
    “You like him,” she says, her tone smug. As if she’s just figured something out.
    Which, I guess, she has. I can feel my face turning red. I try to laugh, but it comes out weak.
    “You could not be more wrong,” I say. “He’s gross. And you know I hate sports.”
    “Right, that’s why your face looks like a tomato right now,” Darcey replies. “You do! You fucking like him.”
    “Darcey, I swear to God you’re annoying,” I moan, burying my face in one of the couch cushions. “I do not like him. If I like him, why the hell would I just have tried my best to get out of seeing him?”
    Darcey lets out a knowing laugh. “Because I know you, Ava — and I remember this boy back in prep school, what was his name? Oh, yeah, Matthew Rottenbach. Anyway, you had the hugest crush on him. But no one could ever get you to admit it. You’d always just turn beet red whenever anyone mentioned his name, and loudly announced how much you despised him. That was like, seven years ago, and you still haven’t changed! It’s fucking hilarious.”
    I stare at her in horror.
    Because she’s right, fuck damn it.
    I held a tiny teenaged candle for Matthew Rottenbach for years . I’d have rather died than admit it at the time, though.
    But apparently Darcey is right, and I haven’t changed.
    “You are so full of shit, Darcey!” I squeal. “I have no feelings one way or the other toward Riley Knox, except to say that he’s an arrogant, obnoxious douchebag. And if I even did — which I don’t — we’re not allowed to date anyway. My dad would hit the roof.”
    “I’m not saying you want to date him,” Darcey tells me. “I’m saying you want to fuck him.”
    I stare at her, opening and closing my mouth for what seems like forever. I’m completely aware I look like a fish, but I can’t seem to find the words I want. Meanwhile, Darcey’s face gets smugger and smugger by the second.
    “What the hell would you know about it,” I finally burst out. “You want to fuck Justin Trudeau.”
    “Justin Trudeau is perfectly fuckable,” she loftily informs me. “I have fantastic taste in men. That’s why I’m telling you you should go for it.”
    “What?” I ask incredulously. “Did you just miss the whole part where I told you my dad would hit the roof? It’d be bad enough if we were dating, I honestly don’t think things would be better if we were just….” I trail off. God, I can’t even bring myself to say the words: if we were just fucking. I’m blushing just thinking about it, and remembering the way his eyes ran up and down my body during our meeting this afternoon. Like he was thinking of seven different ways to make me come right there and then.
    I mean, I already know he’s good in bed. There’s all those messageboard notes to attest to that. And they were left by what I imagine are women who’ve banged a lot of guys, and know what they’re talking about.