Tempting the Player(11)

By: Kat Latham


You. That’s why I can’t touch you. Took him a second to realize she was talking about films. She stared at him guilelessly, not a hint of embarrassment or desire. Had she even known he could see her?

“Matt?”

“Uh, yeah. Have you seen Invictus? It’s a rugby film with Matt Damon.”

“Ooh, Matt Damon. Magic words. Want me to make popcorn?”

He nodded and she uncurled herself to go into the kitchen. Considering Libby had been his happy place a few hours ago, Matt could’ve laughed that he was about to immerse himself in rugby to escape the feelings she filled him with.

He could’ve laughed, except there was nothing funny about a terminal boner.





Chapter Three

“You’re so fucking sexy.” Matt’s voice swept over her—husky and full of longing instead of mockery the way it had been earlier, when he’d called her cute. Now she wasn’t cute. She was fucking sexy. She shifted restlessly in bed as he crawled up her body, stealthy as a panther.

“I want you, Libby. I’ve wanted you forever. It’s been hell hiding it from you.”

Libby laid her palms on his wide shoulders. His skin burned as she drew her hands down his chest, flicking her thumbs over his nipples to make him groan. “Oh, God, I love it when you do that.”

On his hands and knees above her, he arched his back, his hips tilting forward in mimicry of a thrust. Her gaze roved down the front of him, over pecs that flexed beneath her fingers, over abs she could count, and down to his cock, hidden in shadow. She couldn’t see it. She never could see it.

“Bugger,” she whimpered. “This is another dream, isn’t it?”

“Afraid so. But right now you can make me do whatever you want me to. I’m at your mercy. What do you want, my love?”

You. But she couldn’t say it, not even to a dream Matt. Because it would be a lie. He wasn’t really what she wanted. She wanted a family...a husband whose job allowed him to stay with the kids so she could continue her career. A man whose career wouldn’t invite thousands of women to throw themselves at him.

As much as she desired him, as much as she valued his friendship, she wasn’t stupid. Matt wasn’t the one for her...

Libby’s eyelids popped open. With a groan, she rolled onto her side and blinked until the numbers on her clock grew clearer. Five a.m. The sun wouldn’t rise for at least another couple of hours, but Libby had to. Though today wasn’t a work day, she forced herself to get up as if it were. Sleeping in would mean falling asleep too late tonight, which would make tomorrow morning’s wake-up torturous and leave her in no condition to fly.

She heaved herself out of bed and stumbled out of her bedroom. Matt slept on the couch with his back to her, the duvet pulled up to his armpits, leaving his broad shoulders bare. True to form, she’d passed out halfway through last night’s film. She’d woken with her head on a pillow in Matt’s lap and his arm lying across her chest. But as embarrassment had begun to creep in, so had the realization that his head was tipped to the side and he was softly snoring. Poor bloke must’ve been shattered from his match because she’d managed to extract herself, tip him over and cover him with a blanket without waking him.

She allowed herself the luxury of watching him a moment. Freckles sprinkled his shoulders and chest—not that she could see them across the dim room, but she could practically draw them from memory. He’d probably earned those freckles through hours and hours of practicing rugby with no shirt on. She had quite a few herself, mostly across her nose and cheeks, thanks to spending her days staring out a cockpit window into the sun.

He must’ve stripped down during the night, because Princess had dragged his suit trousers and shirt into her basket, making a nest that probably smelled delicious, like subtly spiced cologne and pheromones. Matt’s clothes, duvet and hair were the only rumpled things in her otherwise spotless flat, and she could far too easily get used to having them here.

Her heart clenched. This was her family and, no matter how much she tried to ignore her feelings for Matt, she loved both him and Princess so much it hurt. Until she met the man she wanted to create a real family with, these two would dominate her life.

She went into the bathroom, closing the door as quietly as she could.

When she came out, Matt was sitting at her kitchen table with two cups of tea. He gave her a sleepy smile. “Morning.”

“Hey. Sorry if I woke you. You didn’t have to get up.”

“That’s all right.” He yawned and scratched his stomach, drawing her attention like a paperclip to a magnet. “Made you some tea.”

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