Hooked: A Stepbrother Romance (9 page)

Everyone’s heard the rumors by now.

She’s a great little cocksucker.

She puts out for anyone.

Let’s see how the little princess goodie-two-shoes does with the entire school breathing down her neck.

See what it’s like to have everyone either hate you or want to use you, bitch?

Welcome to my world.

The roar of applause washed over us from behind, every bit as invigorating as a gentle breeze would’ve been. Between the handful of ads I’d placed in the paper, and a couple of human-interest-story segments played on slow news days, there was a veritable mob of well-wishers cheering the team on.

With so many friends and family members watching, the boys rose to the challenge. The game had been fantastic. I’d known all along that Emilia had a good team on her hands, but I hadn’t counted on them outdoing themselves so much. They’d scored ten tries in the first half of the match alone. Now victorious, they eagerly surrounded their coach and chattered with excitement.

Choosing to stay on the bleachers myself, I watched in fascination as Emilia’s petite frame was overshadowed by the large builds of her players. Only Theo was smaller, and even he seemed to be catching up to her rapidly as the summer progressed. Besides, the bright smile on his face more than made up for his height.

As the players left the field, I had to force myself to look away from Emilia as the girls got ready for their turn. That lasted for all of a second, before she jogged up to me with a brilliant sparkle in her eyes.

“My gosh, Simon,
we won
!” she shouted above the noisy celebration. She was ecstatic, more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. Her long hair was flowing out over her upper arms, and the sway in her hips hit me straight in the heart.

Well, not
only
in the heart.

“Congratulations!” I called back, enjoying the moment. Theo was riding Cedric’s shoulders, inciting the crowd further as the female teams finished getting ready.

Five minutes later, the referee’s whistle resonated on the field and I held my breath as Emilia came to sit next to me. She was positively glowing, intoxicated by the rush of success. I knew the feeling all too well, but seeing it on Emilia’s face was sending its own kind of glow all over my body.

She put one of her small hands on my leg, and it took everything I had to ignore the jolt it sent further up my thigh.

“Gosh, I hope the girls perform as well as the boys! Wouldn’t that be fantastic?” she asked me loudly, though I could still barely hear her above the din of the crowd. Her eyes were fixed on me, her hand still pressed against my leg. My gaze fell towards her small breasts, concealed under the red tank top but still unquestionably perfect. I looked up in a fog, my eyes finally meeting hers, my breath deep and heavy.

She must’ve finally figured out what was going on in my head, because she pulled her hand away and mouthed a silent “sorry.” I expected her to scoot far away, but she didn’t budge. Sitting right next to me, she studied my face in silence.

Our silent bond was broken a few seconds later by a roar of applause when Shauna scored the first try, and reminded myself that the team needed me. Turning my head forward, I focused on the game with everything I had. The girls needed me, and I wasn’t going to let them down.

I was, after all, their coach.

Back home.

Back in the saddle.

Back on the field.

Everything back to normal.

Everything will be back to normal once I get her out of my system.

I hope she realizes I

I warned her.

Not my fault.

Hope the bitch is suffering as much as I am.

I’d always heard about the after-game rugby parties in Europe. Drinking, womanizing, crazy stunts by the teams. I’d never quite let myself imagine Simon participating in the debauchery after winning a game, but I knew what it must’ve been like. Mindless yelling, obnoxious drunken celebrations, cringe-worthy moments that gave team sports a bad name.

It goes without saying that I’d never approved of the idea.

But tonight, things felt different. Both teams had won by a landslide. Shauna’s eyes were bright and present, without a trace of the withdrawn girl I’d known for years. For the first time, she was acting dependable and succeeding at something. Theo was trembling with
happiness
. So many players had undergone some kind of transformation, coming out the better for it.

So I looked the other way when they blatantly conspired to ditch us and make their own fun away from the center. Not like I could’ve stopped them if I’d tried. They’d won the day, and it was their night to celebrate.

Besides, I wanted to celebrate in private too. With alcohol. Without the pressure of being a role model.

With Simon
.

We headed towards the closest bar, a dive geared towards biker-types and their girls. Everywhere I looked I saw pierced-this and tattooed-that, with beards and dark leather all around us. Simon wrapped his arm around my waist as we approached the bar, and I felt gentle pressure as he pulled me into him.

“Today was such a good day,” I chimed in, intoxicated equally by the thrill of victory and by the closeness of Simon’s touch as he ordered a couple of beers. “I was so unsure about me coaching rugby, you know.”

“You shouldn’t have been. You’re a great coach, and you’d be an amazing one with a little more practice.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’re a top-notch runner, but you don’t have much experience playing rugby. When you’re demonstrating moves on the field, I see the way you tense up.”

“Oh, listen to you, Mr. Professional Specialized Athlete. Unlike you, I
have
to branch out. Of course you’re good at rugby.”

Good at rugby
was the understatement of the year. The man had led his team to international victory in several tournaments, and he was acclaimed in sports circles everywhere.
Everywhere
. Even living in a country where the sport was virtually unheard of, I’d heard his name mentioned in passing a few times over the years.

Of course, his good looks had catapulted him beyond athlete and into full-blown celebrity.

You’d think, then, that his eyes wouldn’t have lit up when he heard my compliment. He was better than
good
, and he knew it. All the same, his cheeks broadened into a smile as he mouthed a silent “oh?” at me.

“Shut up,” I teased. “Besides, I don’t even like rugby. Or your bad manners. I bet I could beat you in a game where you don’t get paid a bajillion dollars to practice it sixteen hours a day. Like lacrosse.”

“Ha. Lacrosse? That’s
such
an American game—”

“—You’re half American,” I interrupted to point out.

“So how does that work? We play half a game? A whole game, with half the equipment? I call getting the stick, I think I’d win then,” he quipped.

Laughing, I slammed my hand into his chest playfully. My breath caught in my throat as I touched him, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt.

Oh god
….

“Give me something we can
both
play. Like basketball. Give me a ball and I’ll pound you into the court faster than you know what’s happening,” he said.

Oh. my. fucking. god
. I don’t know if I
actually
whimpered or just thought about it, but there was no way his double entendre had been an accident. I looked up at him with wide eyes, wishing I was about five beers further along, so I’d have the courage to respond in kind. Tell him he didn’t need a ball to pound me, something like that.

Instead, I just stared.

“So, is it a deal? Winner takes all?”

“All—all what?” I managed.

“How’s
everything you gave that fireman
sound?”

“Assuming you win,” I pointed out, amused in spite of myself. When had his arrogance become
cute
? “What do I get if
I
win?”

“Everything the fireman gave you. And more. Much, much more,” he winked, laughter sparkling in his mischievous eyes. I went to hit him in the chest again, only to realize my hand was still there from earlier. I slid it down a little, tracing his curves and feeling the heat radiating from his body.

“You’re on,” I whispered just before slamming half my beer back in one long gulp.

Suddenly, my mouth was feeling
very
dry.