Play With Me (7 page)

“I never ran
this route before, but I guess it’s about a half-mile. You know the houses at
Misty Beach?”

I nodded.
Everyone knew them. It was place for the rich and wealthy. “Your parents own a
house down there?”

“Yep.”

I wasn’t
surprised. After seeing the palace he lived in last night, it was accepted the
Hunter’s would have another beach house here. But funny, after the last two
days, Ryan didn’t seem at like with the insufferable rich snob I thought him to
be whenever I passed him in the school corridors. He was quite likable. Nice,
even.

Just not right
now. I scowled. He made me eat sand when I didn’t think I could drag myself
another couple of steps. The fine sand sunk under my feet and it felt like
running on pudding. Every exposed square inch of me glistened with sweat, my
drenched top clung to my skin.

When Misty Beach
came into view, his fingers curled around my upper arm, and he was already
dragging me. I stumbled along next to him, crying for water. “I swear I’m going
to drink up the ocean.”

“Chin up,
Matthews. We’re almost there.” So said the king’s most trusted torturer.

He led me to the
prettiest house at this strip of the beach. Painted in white, it had a
roundabout wooden porch with nice rattan furniture and even a porch swing. From
the pot-plant on the broad railing, he fetched a set of keys and let us inside.

Average size,
the bungalow had a kitchen and maybe two or three bedrooms in the back. We
entered into a cozy sitting room, with comfy couches, flat screen TV, and an
amazingly wide bookshelf. Someone really liked to read out here.

Ryan left me
leaning against the wall and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. He tossed
one at me.

Ah, liquid
heaven. Water had never tasted this good.

My pulse stayed
in higher spheres for a little longer, but I found I could talk without gasping
for air like a dying fish. “So, great tormentor, why did we run on the beach?
Was it just for your personal pleasure to see me suffer?”

He rolled his
eyes with a half-smile that not even Tony could beat. “Why do you think so badly
of me?”

“I don’t know.
Maybe because I lost my lungs somewhere on the way? Or because my legs are on fire?”
I walked over to the couch and leaned my butt against the backrest, arms folded
over my chest.

“Oh, come on
now. We jogged over two miles and you’re still standing. That’s great. And
running in the sand will strengthen your legs a lot better than the pavement.
Since we only run on grass at soccer, you need to get used to the additional…”

“Torture?” I
helped him out when he paused to search for the right word.

“Exactly.” He pushed
aside my damp bangs with a finger, took my empty bottle, and dumped both with a
high toss in the trash can just outside the kitchen door.

I fixed my ponytail
then swept my forearm across my brows. Sweaty as my arm was, it didn’t help
much.

The sound of
footsteps clinking on the porch caught our attention. For a reason that escaped
me, we both stiffened.

The shock on
Ryan’s face as he glanced first at the door then at me prickled my skin into
goose-bumps. Without warning, he rushed toward me, knocking me over the
backrest of the couch. Together we rolled to the floor. Keys rattled in the
lock as I landed on him, and a rush of air exploded out of his lungs.

“Who is it?” I
hissed, glaring down at his face. In this awkward position, I couldn’t help but
notice the beautiful color his eyes were. Like the tiger’s eye my mother kept in
her collection of gemstones.

“Can only be my
mom.” Using a little pressure to my hip, he steered me closer to the couch as
he rolled me off him, then he clapped his hand over my mouth. Duh, as if I was
going to scream.

My heart pounded
like that of a criminal during a bank robbery as we listened to Mrs. Hunter
walk into the room and put something heavy on the floor. Sounded like boxes. She
carried one after the other into the kitchen.

“She’s stocking
the fridge,” Ryan murmured with his mouth to my ear.

Great. Who would
pack a fridge at six in the morning? But then she probably wanted it done
before she went to work. When she went for the third round, I pulled Ryan’s
hand off my mouth and said in a fierce whisper, “Why are we hiding here?”

“My parents
don’t like me bringing random girls to this place. Unless you want to be
introduced as my girlfriend, I suggest you stay down.”

Agreed. But I
scowled at him from the half-inch space between us, wondering how, in only
twenty-four hours, I could land in such an intimate position with Hunter—twice.

A breath of
relief whizzed out of me when his mother finally left the house and the door locked.
A minute passed before Ryan pushed to his feet. He held his hand out for me,
but I didn’t move a limb.

“You sure your
dad isn’t on his way, too?” Heavy cynicism laced my voice.

“Yes, I’m sure.
He never comes here during the week.” He grabbed my hand and tugged. “Get up.”

I let him help
me stand. “Next time you feel the need to knock me over, I’d appreciate a
little warning first.”

“Gotcha!” He
went to the rear of the house and came back with a towel that he wiped over his
face then tossed it at me.

“Ew.” He didn’t
really expect me to use the same towel he already marked with his sweat? “I don’t
know how a little running together got us to that level of intimacy.” But since
he ignored my annoyed look and walked outside, I figured I just had to overcome
that part of me and wiped my sweating body with it. Rubbing my neck, I followed
Ryan onto the porch and found him lounging on the swing.

Drenched in my
sweat, I tossed the towel deadly aim at his face. But he caught it. “Let’s go
back,” I muttered.

“Are we in a
hurry, Matthews?”

I refused to
take a seat anywhere on this porch but leaned my shoulder against the post next
to the wooden steps that led down to the beach. “Not really. But I won’t stay
in a place where I have to sign a marriage license to be welcome.”

“She won’t come
back.”

“I don’t care.”
Wow, that was a growl. I didn’t know I could actually sound this pissed.

“Fair enough.”
He sighed and rose from the swing. “Let me just get the ball, then we can go.”

“The ball?”

But he was
already gone and came out little later with a backpack that had an ominous
round swell. He stuffed the towel and another bottle of water into it then
strapped it over his shoulders. The keys he dumped back into the potted plant.

Fortunately, he
didn’t make me run again. We strolled along the beach, and I welcomed the cool
rush of water around my ankles.

Safe out of
sight from his house, I finally relaxed. “Why did you bring the ball?”

“You need to
practice kicking and catching. The beach is perfect for that.”

Okay, that
didn’t sound too bad. But I underestimated Hunter. What he truly meant I found
out when we reached the place where we’d hidden our shoes.

CHAPTER

8

I WIPED THE sand
off my soles and slipped into my trainers. Ryan took a position about thirty
feet away from me. The ball in the sand, his right foot on top, he shouted, “I
want you to stop the ball.”

“Ah, okay.
Just—”
Whoosh
, the ball raced at me. I let out a small shriek, but
caught the ball to my chest.

He looked at me
as if I forgot to put on clothes this morning. “This is soccer. You’re not supposed
to use your hands.”

How should I
know what he wanted from me when he tried to shoot me with a soccer ball?

“Kick it back.”

I did as he
said, dispersing a great deal more sand than he’d done when he kicked. Ryan shot
again. Same speed, same aim. Right at my chest. I caught it.

“No hands,
Matthews!”

Okay, this was
really getting on my nerves. I sent it flying back to him.

He kicked.

This time I
stepped to the side and let the ball zoom past me.

“What was that?”
Disbelief marred his face as he came toward me.

“You said no
hands. Want me to catch it with my teeth or what?”

He laughed. “I
strongly suggest you don’t do that. During a game you will have to stop the
ball. But you’re not allowed to use your hands. So you use your body to block
it. Your shoulders, or head, but mostly your chest.”

“Aha. There’s
only one problem with that.” I cupped my boobs with both hands. “I’ve got
these!”

Struck silent, his
gaze traveled from my eyes downward and didn’t return. The spark in his eyes
almost scared me. Like I was Snow White and he was the…
Hunter
. In fact,
I didn’t want to even imagine what thoughts crossed his mind right then. I sapped
my fingers between our faces. “Eyes up here.”

He obeyed. Reluctantly.
The sliver of an impish smile crept to his lips.

“Enough training
for one morning.” I could barely keep my voice even. “I want to be back before my
mom finds out I’m gone.”

He agreed, and I
managed to convince him that we only run half the way then walk the rest. I
didn’t want to break down in front of my house. But when we arrived, I faced
the next hurdle. Dad was already gone to work, but Mom was in the kitchen, and
there was no way to sneak inside without her noticing.

“I’m so
screwed,” I whined, hiding behind a tree on the other side of the street.

Ryan cupped my
chin with an unexpected tender hand and made me look at his face. “Do you
always give up that quickly?”

“Apparently,
you
don’t,” I muttered with clipped annoyance for his lack of understanding of my
misery. “So what do you suggest?”

“We get you
inside the same way we got you out.”

“The window?”

“Exactly.” His
head slightly angled, he lifted his brows with an utmost of encouragement.

“Tony has been
climbing in and out there for years. But I don’t see how I can do it.”

“Mitchell has
been climbing into your room?”

“Yes. But I need
a ladder to get onto the roof of the shed. And as far as I know, we don’t have
a ladder.” My shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does he
climb through your window?” The question was a snarl, and his brows furrowed.

“Can we please
stay focused? I’m grounded and I need to break into my own house.”

He glared at me.
Then with his jaw tight, he nodded. “All right. Come on.” He pulled at my top
and hauled me across the street. I could only hope that my mom wasn’t peeking
out the window.

As we rounded
the house and I could hide beside the shed, I felt a little safer. Still, there
was this problem with getting on top of it.

Ryan scanned the
tree. “I believe Mitchell climbs up there to get onto the roof?”

“Um, yes. But
you aren’t asking me to climb a tree now, are you?”

He gave a light
snort. Then he tested the edge of the shed’s roof by jumping and hanging on to
it. It was solid. “Come here, Matthews,” he ordered as he planted himself in a
wide stance with his back to the shed’s door.

“What are you
doing?”

“Giving you a
lift.” He laced his fingers in front of his hips. Obviously, I should step in
there.

 “No way.”

“Don’t be a
baby. I already proved I can carry you, remember? Twice.”

He was right.
Still, that didn’t take the queasy feeling out of my stomach. If at all, the
memory increased my flurry. In the end, with my mom downstairs, I figured I had
not much of a choice. With a resigned sigh, I stepped toward him and held on to
his shoulders while he bent his knees to make it easier for me to place my foot
into the hold he provided.

“Ready?” he teased
as we were on eyelevel.

“Not at all,” I
replied a little shaky.

“See you
tomorrow.” Then he shot me up into space. I had no time to think, which might
have been a good thing, but just grabbed onto the roof’s edge and hoisted
myself over with Ryan’s help.

From there it
was an easy walk to get back into my room. Once my feet were planted on the
solid floor, I turned toward him. My knees still wobbly from the adventure and
the fear of getting caught, I grimaced. “I don’t think we should do this again.”

“Why not?”

“I’m dead if my
parents catch me.” And it wasn’t really a matter of
if
but of
when
.

“They won’t.”

“What if?”

“Matthews, they
won’t. Now shut up and get under the shower.”