Playing By Her Rules (Sydney Smoke Rugby Series) (14 page)

He hauled himself out of bed, away from the temptation of her. It was important she hear the
real
reason—that she
understand
his real reasons.

This was not the time for distraction.

“
Nothing
that happened that night was because of anything you’d done or not done. I didn’t kiss Jessica Duffy because I was dissatisfied with our sex life and looking for something else. I kissed her on purpose. I waited until you walked through that door and I knew you were looking at me, and I kissed her because I wanted to smash a gulf
so
wide between us that you’d never want to speak to me ever again.”

She didn’t look any less confused as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, dragging the sheet around her. But she did look pissed off. “Well, congratulations, it worked,” she said, her voice stony. “You know, if you didn’t want me anymore, you could just have said.”

“Didn’t want you?” The accusation felt like a hot poker being thrust into his gut. Tanner shook his head. “I never stopped wanting you. Hell, I was all set to ask you
to marry
me. I’d even put a deposit on a ring. I was going to propose and suggest we set a date for after you got back from America.”

He shoved a hand through his hair, remembering how excited he’d been to find the perfect ring. A round opal surrounded by diamonds. The stone had been stunningly beautiful and reminded him of her blue-green eyes, complete with a rich fiery vein of pink and amber.

“But then you announced you weren’t going to go, were going to knock back your scholarship and do your degree externally in Australia whilst following me around, and all my pleas that you go, that you
not
stay, fell on deaf ears.”

She rose from the mattress, pulling the sheet out of the end, wrapping herself up in it as she turned to face him. “So you
kissed
another woman?” she demanded, the rush of air in and out of her chest audible. “To make me
jealous
? To make me…hate you?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Jessica
freaking
Duffy?”

Tanner wasn’t very proud that he’d chosen Tilly’s nemesis deliberately. But it’d had the desired effect. “Yes. I figured she’d cut the deepest. But don’t blame her—it wasn’t her fault. She had no idea what I’d planned, either.”

“Oh,
trust
me,” Tilly fumed. “I don’t. You are
totally
on the hook for that one.” She glared at him across the bed. “How far did it go?” she demanded. “Did you
fuck
her?”

“
No!
”

“Really? Because you both appeared to be enjoying it to me.”

Tanner shook his head vehemently. “As soon as you ran out, I broke it off. It was only
ever
a kiss. And a pretty terrible one at that.” He shuddered thinking about it now. “Too wet. Too much tongue. It felt like she was trying to reach my balls via my throat.”

“Imagine how
not
sorry I am,” she hissed, “to hear it was so
freaking
unpleasant for you.”

Tanner shoved a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how they’d gone from so deep inside each other he hadn’t been able to tell where he ended and she started, to glaring at each other across a mattress that may as well have been as wide as the bloody ocean.

What he’d done had been stupid, but his motives had been true. Surely she could see why he’d done it?

“I’m sorry,” he apologised again. “But I did it for you.”

Her eyes practically bulged out of her head. “How very noble of you,” she yelled, looking around the floor before bending over to scoop up her discarded underwear. “You want a
medal
for your sacrifice?” she demanded as she stepped into the scrap of satin and lace he’d yanked off her less than two hours ago, manoeuvring them up under the sheet.

“Okay, that came out all wrong,” he muttered.
Christ.
Talk about making it worse.

“Ya think?”

She threw her shirt on over her head sans bra, yanking the sheet down and off. He quickly located his underwear and pulled them on. Being the only buck naked one in an argument did not augment his position.

“I just meant it was the only way I could think of to make you dump me and go follow your dreams.”

“You think you did me such a
big
favour?” Her voice broke a little, and the sharp edge of it stabbed straight into the middle of his chest. “By
breaking my heart?
And making me distrust not only
every single man
who’s crossed my path since, but
myself
? Distrust my own judgement? Making me wary of relationships and getting too close to anyone in case they crushed my heart like
you
did? Closing me off to any possibility of loving another man, or letting him love me?”

Christ.
Tanner hadn’t wanted that. He’d let her go so she could have a life.
Her
life. “Tilly—”

“
Goddamn it
, Tanner,” she yelled, interrupting him with all the grunt of a machete. “My name is Matilda!”

She grabbed her jeans that were in a pile on the floor at the bottom of the bed and turned on her heel, striding for the door.

Chapter Fourteen

“Wait,” Tanner called after her, using the superior length of his stride to catch her as she reached the door, grabbing her by the elbow. She flapped her arm trying to yank out of his reach, but Tanner was going to hold tight this time instead of letting her go.

It had been a mistake doing that eight years ago, the gravity of which was only hitting him now.

“Please…
Matilda
, just wait.” He dodged another elbow, although he doubted it would have had the same impact as the one he’d copped on the field earlier in the night. He bundled her up in his arms, pressing her back against the wall near the door, shoving a thigh between her legs as she tried to kick at him, caging her with his body.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I was a complete dumbass.”

“You got that right,” she panted, still pushing against his body.

He was excruciatingly aware of where his thigh was trapped and how every wriggle rubbed her crotch against it. Of the smell of sex still clinging to their skin and sizzling off them like steam as the heat between them grew. Of the frantic pull of her breath and the mad flutter of the pulse in the hollow at the base of her throat.

And, God help him, he was so damned turned on he could barely think for the blood pounding through his head and his chest and his groin. It was the most inappropriate time to get a hard-on.

But his dick didn’t get the memo.

She twisted her hips to dislodge him, to no avail, her gaze burning. “Let. Me. Go.”

Tanner held fast. “We have the chance to start again, Matilda. You’re crazy if you think this thing between us is dead. The chemistry between us is as hot as it always was.”

“Speak for yourself,” she snapped.

Her denial pushed Tanner to his limit.
No.
No more lies. His lie in their past had already caused too much pain, and he was determined another one wasn’t going to derail their future. He wasn’t going to let her lie to him
or herself
about what was going on between them.

He pressed his thigh hard between her legs, grinding for good measure, the action hitching her up the wall a little. His erection, straining against the confines of his underwear, pressed into her belly.

He was gratified to hear her sharp intake of breath. “You were saying?”

“That’s physics.” She dismissed the evidence through gritted teeth. “Not chemistry.”

“Bullshit.”

He ground again, and she moaned, clutching his biceps reflexively. Her head fell back against the wall, a hot sizzle of lust burning in her gaze. “You better be prepared to follow through on that,” she growled, her chest heaving, her voice thick with barely suppressed desire.

Tanner blinked at her very clear meaning.

She wanted to fuck?

Now?
Part of him recoiled from the suggestion. They needed to talk. They needed less
action
and more
conversation
. But the blatant intent in her gaze had grabbed him by the dick, and the devil had him by the balls.

“On this?” He ground his thigh into her underwear again.

Holding his gaze she bucked her hips and rode the hard wedge of it. “Yes,” she gasped, her hands suddenly in his hair, pulling his head down, their lips meeting in a clash that threw sparks and almost cut Tanner off at the knees.

Their breathing was loud between them as he fought her for dominance of the kiss. Rage at himself for his weakness and frustration at her manipulation combined in a potent mix. The kiss was his to master and damned if he was going to let her have it all her own way. He demanded her submission, and he wasn’t letting up until he had it.

But she gave him no measure, twisting and evading any attempt of his to master it, the savage kiss stoking his arousal to fever pitch. And hers, if the whimpery noises coming from the back of her throat were any indicator.

Her submission was brief but splendid, her body softening and melting, a sigh on her lips for the merest of moments. Triumph surged through his system for a nanosecond before her hands were delving inside his underwear, squeezing his cock and cupping his balls, owning him more completely than any kiss could.

“Fuck me,” she demanded against his neck, her teeth nipping as she twined her legs around his waist, the fingernails of one hand sinking into the broad sweep of his shoulder, the other guiding his cock to her centre, using the head to push her underwear aside. He settled amidst the slick heat between her legs and Tanner’s eyes clamped shut as the sensation pushed him beyond all reason.

This was all kinds of fucked up. They were angry. This wasn’t the slow, tender lovemaking of less than half an hour ago—this was
screwing
. One hundred percent pissed-off, nail-raking, neck-biting, wall-fucking
screwing
.

It was rage and revenge. It was reprisal. It was rutting like animals.

It sure as hell
wasn’t
the way to prove to her that he wanted more from her than what they both had between their legs. But she writhed against him again, nipping the muscle that sloped from his neck to his shoulder and a wild primitive roar pulsed through his body.

Having sex with her all angry like this reminded him of how pissed off she’d been at him after he’d gone down on her that night at her apartment. He remembered how hard she had come and what she had tasted like. The smell of her, of them both, real and remembered, flared his nostrils and welled in his head, driving him to a point well beyond control.

In one swift movement he’d braced the flat of a forearm against the wall near her head, grasped her hip with the other hand and shoved inside her, her head rocking back as he drove in to the hilt. She cried out, her fingernails digging hard into his shoulders.

“
Yes
,” she moaned, their gazes locking. “Yes.”

She was hot and tight and wet, and he didn’t care that he wasn’t wearing a condom, he only cared that they were finally looking at each other, as close as two people could be. That he could see right into her soul and there were finally no barriers between them. He could see her emotions raw and real, the same as the ones reflected inside him. He wanted to keep her here like this, pinned to the wall in this moment of truth, this moment of utter consummation, forever.

But those fiery sparks still sizzled in Tilly’s eyes, and he could tell she was mentally shrugging off the sticky tendrils of the moment.

“More,” she urged, squeezing her thighs around his waist, undulating her hips, trying to buck and ride him with what little space she had available sandwiched between him and the wall.

The buzz in his balls demanded he move, too, demanded he pound into her just the way she wanted it, but his head wanted to stay in the moment for just a bit longer.

“Tanner,” she moaned, nails raking down his shoulder blades now, shredding the skin.

He sucked in a breath at the pain, hot and searing. Adrenaline shot into his system, a well of anger rising like a hot geyser. “God-fucking-damn it, Matilda,” he grunted through gritted teeth, staring deep into her eyes as he slid out of her and thrust back in again, rocking her head harder this time, her teeth shutting with a snap.

“Yes,” she gasped triumphantly. “Yes.”

And then she was incapable of forming any kind of words. He made sure of it. The only sounds coming from her mouth were insensible gasps and pants and whimpers as he pistoned his hips, rocking her higher and higher. Their gazes were locked, their breathing was tight, and their jaws were clenched as he put his shoulder into every flex of his hips, leaning heavily into the arm anchored near her head to push himself deep and hard inside her with every thrust.

She broke before he did, but just barely, finally shutting her eyes as her orgasm claimed her, the tight walls of her sex clamping down hard on his cock as she came, milking him to his own climax, sending him into the abyss with her.

Tanner barely had a chance to catch his breath before she was pushing against him. “Let me down,” she said.

He roused himself, pulling his forehead off the wall, his pulse still thrumming through his ears. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, easing away, his hands gentle on her hips as she slid down the wall until her feet touched the ground.

“Don’t,” she said, stepping around him as he tucked his dick back in his underwear. She stepped into her jeans, her back to him. “I’m not seventeen anymore. I wanted that as much as you did.”

“I didn’t even use a condom.”

“I have an implant.” She dismissed the matter, turning to face him as she zipped up her fly. “And I swear if you lie to me about having some nasty communicable disease I’m going to put that in my next feature.”

Tanner’s lips rose in a pained half smile. He could see the headline now.
Playboy Saint Clap King
. The rugby suits would just love that. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Good,” Tilly nodded, looking over his shoulder, clearly planning her escape.

“Could we please talk before you leave? About us?”

“No, Tanner,” she said, her expression determined but her voice sounding sad. Or maybe just tired. “There is no us. I can’t forget or forgive what you did. I thought it was bad enough that you did it, but discovering that you did it
deliberately
, that you hurt me
deliberately,
that it was pre-meditated to take my
choices
away?” Her voice was husky and tremulous now, and she sucked in a breath. “I can’t be with someone who could hurt me like that and seem perfectly fine about it afterward. Could just walk away and
forget
everything we’d had. Did you ever lose any sleep over it, Tanner?”

He couldn’t bear that she thought him so callous, that it was a decision he’d made lightly. He had hated himself. He took a step toward her, but she took a quick one back, holding up a hand to ward him off.

“Of course I did.” He halted, shoving a hand through his hair. “I loathed myself for what I’d done.”

“And yet you moved on pretty damn quickly, from what I heard. And it sure didn’t seem to affect any of the rest of your life. Not the way it did me. I didn’t have sex for
two years
—”

Her voice cracked and she broke off, shaking her head, her eyes big blue puddles as she stared at him. Her anguish tore at his heart. “And I’ve sabotaged
every
relationship I’ve ever had, before anyone could get too close. You’ve shaped me into this woman I never wanted to be. There are bits of myself I don’t even
like
, while you just moved effortlessly on, swanning around with a different woman on your arm every bloody week, with clearly none of the baggage from that night.”

God. He’d been such a dick—immature and rash—and he’d hurt the only woman he’d ever truly loved. “Tilly—”

She shook her head interrupting him, dashing a tear that had spilled over. “There’s no
us
, Tanner. And if you ever had an ounce of compassion for me, I’m
begging
you to just
please
leave it the fuck alone.”

She strode out of his room, dragging his beaten and bloody heart with her, and Tanner didn’t do a damn thing to stop her. She was right. He’d hurt her, deeper than he’d known or imagined. In his eighteen-year-old brain, he’d convinced himself that she’d get over it quickly and move on, have her life, find someone else.

He’d sold her short. Sold the depth of her feelings short. And he didn’t deserve her forgiveness or her love.

…

The fifth feature article was probably the hardest one Matilda had tackled. Had she written it
before
they’d gotten naked and done the wild thing—three times—she could have been more objective about how well-loved and respected he was by everybody. About his beautiful bromance with his teammates. About how he was cherished and doted on by the WAGS. About his generosity of spirit. But every word was coloured by what had happened that night at his apartment
after
everyone had gone home.

The sex.
And
the argument.

Objectivity was hard when so much of what she knew about Tanner Stone was viewed through the prism of her own experiences.

She must have done something right, though, because newspaper sales had spiked on the Friday of its release and it seemed everyone, everywhere, was talking about it both in the traditional media and online.

It probably had a lot to do with speculation over her and Tanner’s personal relationship since his Twitter antics and that very public pash at the game last week. But even hard-as-nails Imelda Herron had stopped by her desk for some personally delivered congratulations—
a damn good story, young woman
—all but assuring Matilda she’d be moving to features permanently.

So at least something had worked out.

It was rather harder for her to shrug it all off, though, as just a damn good story. Beneath all the words, the subtext was written in tears.
Her
tears.
And blood
. If it took opening a vein and bleeding all over the page to get her where she wanted to be, she was okay with that.

But it was a double-edged sword.

Her body yearned for Tanner with the fierceness of a
woman
who was in tune with her needs. Not the girl she’d been, still learning and experimenting, still hesitant and unsure of herself and her body, slow to find her way, to be comfortable with her sexuality.

Her passion was a roaring beast inside her, sprung from its cage. But her heart was still trapped, wrapped in thorny brambles like Tanner’s biceps.

Impenetrable.

She watched his next game at home alone in her pajamas, drinking beer and eating an entire large packet of salt and vinegar chips all to herself.

The WAGS wouldn’t have been impressed.

She’d told herself she wasn’t going to. But that was the thing with Tanner—he was addictive. And she’d just gone and overdosed on him in the worst possible way, despite warning herself from the very beginning that he was her own personal crack.