Playing Hard to Get: Chapter 13

I TRIED to keep it strictly business, I really did. I wore a plain black sweater and jeans and no makeup, beyond a little bit of mascara. My hair is straight and boring. Our conversation was tutor-based only. No personal questions allowed.

Then I caught him staring at my chest and realized my sweater is a little clingy.

My first slip-up.

He’s not thrilled to be reading, but I didn’t know what else to do. He definitely needs to practice though. The more he reads, the better he’ll get at it. And I really do need to sit next to him and watch him read, so I can spot if he fills in the wrong word or whatever.

That was my second mistake.

Sitting close to him is a complete distraction. He’s so warm. He radiates heat that makes me want to snuggle close, which is just…

A big no-no.

Then there’s the way I caught him staring when I tucked my hair behind my ear. Maybe he has a hair fetish? Is there even such a thing?

I have no clue.

Just before he started reading, I could hear him inhale, his head tilted in my direction. Like he was trying to smell me, which had me feeling all fluttery inside.

How am I supposed to resist him? He’s making it incredibly difficult.

Knox reads for ten minutes straight, and I don’t correct him once, even though I can tell he’s inserting words that don’t belong. I’m an utter fail at my job. I can’t concentrate. I’m too caught up in my thoughts about him and me. Us. And what exactly we’re supposed to do about it.

There’s something brewing, that can’t be denied. But no way is it serious. He doesn’t do serious. Right now, neither do I. He shouldn’t even be thinking about getting with someone. He’s supposed to be celibate, or whatever, so he can concentrate on school and football.

I refuse to be his downfall.

He finally stops, slouching in his chair and spreading his legs wide. His foot knocks against mine and I immediately jerk away, not wanting a repeat of our Tuesday footsie game.

“This sucks, Jo Jo,” he mutters.

“I know you don’t like reading—”

He cuts me off. “I’m all caught up with my English class. What’s the point in reading when I don’t need to?”

We angle our heads toward each other. “Are you saying you want to cut out early?”

“I…” He clamps his lips shut.

“Because you can.” My smile is overly bright. Terribly false. This is a better plan. Getting rid of him. Getting him away from me. “Go ahead. Have a great weekend. Good luck with Saturday’s game.”

“Uh okay. Thanks,” Knox croaks, his gaze dropping to my lips. He stares at them for a long time, his breaths coming faster as he shifts, leaning closer.

Closer.

I part my lips, anticipation filling me, my stomach twisting with nerves. Knox Maguire is going to kiss me. Knox is going to kiss—

A phone buzzes, startling us both, and I realize it’s mine. I check it to see there’s a message from Natalie.

Nat: Better not be boinking Maguire in the library!

What the hell? Did she install a secret camera in here?

I put my phone on do not disturb mode and drop it onto the table face down.

“Who was that?” His voice is deceptively casual. Why would he even ask?

“No one.”

“Your ex?” Now he sounds blatantly hostile.

“No. Of course not.” He glares and I give in. “It was my friend. Natalie.”

The tension eases from him immediately. “She was with you at Logan’s?”

“Yes.” I nod. “We live together.”

“Oh yeah?” He rests his hand on the table, playing with the edge of my iPad case. “You guys close?”

“We’ve been roommates since we were paired in the dorms our freshman year.”

“That’s cool.” He won’t look at me and I’m fascinated with the way he traces his finger along the edge of the case. Back and forth, up and down. Lightly. Slowly.

Sensuously.

“How about you?” I broke my final rule by asking him a personal question. Damn it.

“What about me?”

“Do you live alone or with roommates?”

“Oh. I live with Cam.”

“Camden Fields?”

Knox nods. “You know him?”

“I know of him. He’s the quarterback.”

“Kind of like you knew about me?”

“Exactly how I knew about you.” He finally lifts his head, his gaze lingering on mine, and I get lost for a few seconds. He truly has the most beautiful eyes. “But I guess now I’m actually getting to know you.”

“I’m not so bad, right, Jo Jo?” His smile is faint, seemingly full of doubt.

There’s no trace of the arrogant bravado from last week, and I wonder why.

“You seem like a decent guy,” I concede.

“I’m the most decent guy you’ll ever meet.” He actually scoffs.

“Mr. Player? I don’t know about that, Knox.”

We’re quiet for a moment, the unavoidable tension between us growing.

Filling the room like fog, until it’s swirling around us. It’s all I can see and feel.

“I like it when you say my name,” he finally admits, his voice low. Gravelly.

Sexy.

Shit!

“Oh, come on. You hear girls chant your name every weekend,” I tease.

“That’s not the same.”

“I’m sure it’s even better.” I mean, come on. He has a major fan base. Women throw themselves at him on a daily basis, I’m sure. Isn’t that more exciting than little ol’ me?

“Not really.”

We’re quiet again and I clear my throat, reaching for the iPad. He’s faster than me, shoving it out of my way and across the table, so I can’t grab it. “Hey.”

“I’m not reading anymore.” His voice is firm, as is his expression.

“Why not?” I start to lunge across the table, but Knox stops me, his hands on my shoulders, slowly shoving me back into my seat. “Come on.”

I’m whining. He’s still touching me, his hands curved around my upper arms, and he gentles his grip, slowly hauling me closer. “Joanna.”

Staring at his mouth, I watch him descend, unable to stop him. Unable to say anything, a tiny squeak leaving me two seconds before he settles that perfect mouth on mine.

And then we’re kissing.

His hands are on my face, cupping my cheeks, and it’s like one of those fantasy kisses you see in the movies, but even better because it’s real. His lips are soft and warm and persuasive. I part my lips almost immediately, allowing his tongue entry, but he doesn’t quite take it.

No, he teases me with his tongue, licking at the seam of my lips. Teasing just the tip of mine before he retreats, making me want more. I rest my hands on his broad chest, tilting my head, trying to take the kiss deeper, but he still won’t do it.

I whimper in frustration, and he streaks both of his thumbs across my cheeks, still keeping it light. Sweet. Like he’s savoring it.

Savoring me.

Well, it’s been months since I’ve been kissed by someone, and years since I’ve been kissed by someone new. I want more.

Now.

He slips one hand under my jaw, angling my head just so, nipping at my lower lip with his teeth.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I walked into the room,” he murmurs, his deep voice making me shiver.

“Really?” I’m still squeaking. I sound like a mouse.

He smiles. Nibbles my lip again. “Really.”

Knox draws my lower lip between his, sucking on it, making my insides turn to liquid. He releases it, his fingers sliding into my hair, my scalp tingling. I’m on sensory overload and I wonder if he knows it.

I wonder if he’s doing this on purpose.

“You said what happens in this room stays in this room, right?” He murmurs the question against my lips, tickling me.

“Y-yes.” I didn’t mean it in regard to things like this though…

“Perfect,” he says, just before he takes the kiss deeper, his tongue doing a thorough sweep of my mouth.

I cling to him, helpless, my tongue sliding against his over and over. Oh, the man can kiss. Better than Bryan. Better than anyone I’ve ever kissed, not that there have been many.

I’m sure Knox Maguire has kissed lots of women. Hundreds of women.

The thought doesn’t deter me, because his magical lips are currently on mine and, my God, I don’t think I’ve felt anything better.

He breaks the kiss first, disappointment coursing through my blood, my mouth aching and already missing his, but I’m immediately placated when he blazes a path of kisses along my neck, making me shiver. I tilt my head back, a sigh leaving me when he continues to kiss and lick at my sensitive skin, and I’m clinging onto his shoulders like I’m afraid I’ll slip away if I don’t. His hands are running up and down my back, nice and slow, and I crack my eyes open when he pulls away, so our gazes meet.

“You can touch me, you know.” The desperation in his voice is obvious.

He’s dying for me to put my hands on him.

Giving in to his need, I slide my hand down his chest, slowly. Lingering. Wishing I could shove my hand beneath his T-shirt and touch his bare skin.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” The words leave me without hesitation. I didn’t even plan on saying them.

“We’re just kissing. That’s it.” He actually does slip his hand beneath the hem of my sweater, his fingers streaking up my spine, making me shiver. “Your skin is so soft.”

That one statement spurs us into action and has us frantically reaching for each other. His arm hooks around my waist. Mine slide around his neck. Next thing I know, I’m on his lap, straddling him in the chair, our mouths fused, our low moans filling the air. The sound of our lips connecting. Breaking apart.

Connecting again.

He is so incredibly big and strong. And the man smells better than any other person on this planet, I swear to God.

He’s got his hands buried in my hair, fingers tangled in the tresses, his tongue doing a deep dive. I press my chest against his, needing the closeness, needing something more, but unable to ask for it because after all…

This is just kissing. That’s it.

It’s some of the best kissing I’ve ever experienced.

We go at it for what feels like hours. Just nonstop making out, like we’re teenagers in the back of his dad’s car, unleashing all of that pent-up passion we’ve been holding in, knowing this is the only chance we’re going to get. There’s a desperation to his kisses too. As if he’s worried this might be his only shot and he’s going to take as much as he can.

Finally, we break apart, our breathing hard and erratic, my head a jumble of chaotic thoughts, every one of them having to do with Knox. My mouth and jaw ache from all the kissing and when I finally dare to look up at him, I find he’s already watching me.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he admits, his voice rough. He hesitates, and my heart drops. “But I don’t regret it happened.”

My heart soars once again, though I mentally tell it to calm down. I should tell him I do regret it. That this should never happen again. What we’ve done is extremely unprofessional and I could lose my job. I’ve gone against just about every moral code I have when it comes to my tutoring position. I’m a complete disgrace.

“I don’t regret it either,” I whisper instead.

His smile is small. Devastating. He leans in, his mouth brushing mine, setting off a fresh set of tingles all over my body and then he grabs hold of my waist, pulling me off him.

The disappointment is palpable, but when I check the time, I see we have less than five minutes left of our tutoring session. I go straight into business mode, gathering my things with shaky hands and placing them in my bag. I keep my head bent, unable to look at him, afraid I might break the spell.

This was probably a one-shot deal. No way can we do that again. He might even want to switch tutors, replacing me with someone who’s less distracting to his celibacy plan.

“I know you don’t care about football but…you want tickets to this Saturday’s game?”

I glance up at his question, frowning at him. “You’re offering me tickets?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs, shoves his hands in his front pockets, and waits for my answer.

“How many?” An idea begins to form.

“How many you want?”

“Two.” My smile is faint. “For me and Natalie.”

The relief on his face is evident. Did he think I’d bring a guy to the game? The only one I’d ever do that for is Leon, who sort of likes football. I think. Nat, on the other hand? She loves it. “Yeah. Sure. I can leave your name at the ticket booth. All you need to do is go to the will-call window, say your name, and they’ll give them to you.”

“Okay.” I nod, smiling. “Thank you.”

“You’re really coming to my game?” He actually sounds excited, which is…

Cute.

“You’re really not going to fire me as your tutor?” I toss back at him.

His smile fades, replaced with a deep, downright confused frown. “Why would I do that?”

“Because…” I wave a hand between us, “we didn’t get much work done.”

His smile turns wicked, and I swear there’s even a naughty gleam in his eye. “I’d beg to differ, Jo Jo. We got plenty of work done.”

I’m blushing. Even though I don’t know exactly what he’s referring to. “Okay.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He approaches me, his fingers slipping beneath my chin to tilt my head up. I’m trembling from his nearness, the way his fingers seem to caress my skin, and I part my lips, ready to say something…

But no words come out.

The look on his face tells me he knows I’m awkward AF, but he doesn’t mind. Instead, he dips his head, kisses the tip of my nose and steps back before I can do anything.

“See you Saturday?”

“Sure.” My voice is garbled. I don’t even know if he can understand me.

And how is he going to see me Saturday when he’ll be out on the field, playing football? He’ll be swarmed by loads of people after the game too. There’s no chance in hell I’ll get to see him Saturday.

Before I can remind him of all of this, though, he’s gone.