Playing Dirty (Leighton U, #4)

by C.E. Ricci

They haven’t watched their mother become a fragment of the person she used to be or slowly lost all respect for the man who raised them. They haven’t been forced into the middle of messy, painful litigation while two people who used to love each other become hateful, cruel, and petty.

I don’t have to be the enemy, though. He’s just hell-bent on making me one.

“At least he’s pretty to look at.” Wyatt shakes his head and chuckles ruefully. “God, you’re lucky Holden wasn’t around to hear you say that. He’d probably end up pissing all over you just to remind you you’re his.”

“Please don’t suggest I use sex as a means for extortion and then immediately call him my brother.” My lips pull back in a grimace, and I shake my head. “That’s just wrong on too many levels.”

Unfortunately, after I come out of the bathroom from brushing my teeth, I realize the one massive problem I’ve overlooked. One that’s impossible to ignore now that he’s stripped down to nothing more than a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs. Theo Greyson is hot as hell.

Unfortunately, Madden’s faster than me—and possibly a mind reader—grabbing my wrist before I can even take a step back toward Camden. His skin singes mine where it makes contact, and there’s an intensity in his gaze as he leans in a little closer. “Don’t worry, Theo. The only guy ending up in my bed tonight is you.”

“Play with fire, and you’re gonna get burned, Teddy Bear,” I utter, the warning coming out barely more than a gruff whisper. “Especially if you keep looking at me like that.”

“I don’t need to read your mind, Theo. Not when your body is screaming.”

There’s a pull here, I can’t deny it; a current flowing beneath the surface, doing everything in its power to drag me toward him.

I’ll be damned to act on it first, though.

If I don’t, there’s no telling if I’ll end up drowning in him or just fucking drowning him. But I don’t get the chance, because Theo’s hand lands on my forearm. And those emotions? Well, they boil over the second his lips crash into mine.

I don’t know what caused me to snap, only that the second I do, I realize it’s the greatest mistake I’ve ever made. Because nothing—fucking nothing on this planet—could prepare me for kissing Madden.

And, fuck, does my cock take notice of just how sexy it is to be on the receiving end of a hand necklace.

He drags me under with hatred, holds me captive with wrath. And it’s a taste too fucking addictive to fight.

He’s always there, meeting me with venom of his own, and it’s dismantling the few threads of sanity I have left.

“I hate that I want you,” I whisper, the words coming out in a snarl. His dark chuckle floats over my skin like satin. “About time we agreed on something.”

“You’re fucking messy, and I don’t have time for that shit. I’ve got more important things to worry about than someone who can’t make up their goddamn mind. You want me? Great. You don’t? That’s fine too. But you need to figure it out, because I know what I want, and it sure as fuck isn’t to play games. With you or with anyone else.”

Stop thinking about him. But how can I?

Theo Greyson is in my bloodstream, whether I like it or not.

Desire. It’s faint, but it’s there nonetheless. And it draws me in—a moth to a flame—until I’m taking a fractional step in his direction.

A chorus of oohs echoes around us, and it takes me a second to realize this girl must be Lexi Waters—the younger sister of the Sacramento Storm’s catcher, Keene. The guy won a Golden Glove his first season in the majors last year, which is damn near unheard of.

“What do you—” “You!” I shout instantly. “Jesus fuck. It’s you, okay? I want you.”

Yeah, it led me right back to him. To finally admitting Phoenix was right: Denial is not just a river in Egypt, and I drown in it every time I look at Madden.

It doesn’t matter that he’s a guy, that he’s my stepbrother, that he’s a Falcon, that I don’t want to want him. I still do regardless.

This. I want this. His anger and aggression when he fights me back. The addictive, wicked way he takes control or puts me in my place. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since the first time I felt his lips and body pressed to mine; the piece of forbidden fruit I’ve been dying to taste again.

Theo Greyson hasn’t just gotten under my skin. He’s clawed his way into my psyche, burrowed himself through muscle and cartilage, sliced straight to the bone—and he’s managed this in an unthinkably short amount of time. Then again, maybe he started carving away at me long before I even realized it.

Fuck. Distraction may as well be Theo’s new middle name.

“I love watching you like this. Seeing how turned on you get when I’m barely touching you.”

Madden’s seduction is an art form; one proving nearly impossible to resist.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this,” I grind out. “Lips stretched around my cock and tears in your eyes. So fucking wrecked for me.”

He’s just Theo. Just…mine.

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I realize…I mean it in more ways than one.

In the darkest depths of my soul, I know everything—everyone—else pales in comparison. I’ve never been so consumed that all I can do is sink into bliss. Give in to the mind-altering desire that’s as equally alluring as it is dangerous.

“Fuck, baby. This is my favorite look on you yet,” he rasps, shaking his head. “Frayed at the edges, trying and failing to hold yourself together when all you want is to fall apart.”

“I don’t know. Your messiness is starting to mess me up too.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I’m not.”

“When it’s your forever on the line—” “—all the codes and rules go right out the damn window,”

He laughs some more, and the sound fills me with a ridiculous amount of serotonin. But God, that smile…it causes devastation to my heart anytime it’s aimed at me. It eviscerates my soul.

“And what exactly is this?” “Something a helluva lot more important.”

“The way I want you…it fucking kills me. Every time you’re near, I can’t think about anything else except touching you, tasting you. Marking every inch of your body as mine. You’ve ruined me.”

“Christ, Madden. I want you to the end of my sanity. I want you for every reason I shouldn’t. You have to believe that.”

To love someone is to turn around.

“Madden, I want you.” “You have me,”

Why does he have to dismantle me every time he opens his mouth? Why does he have to shred my heart with little moments of gentleness and compassion?

Sometimes I wonder if I’d even be satiated by crawling inside his chest, tucking myself behind his ribs, and truly becoming part of him. At this point, I doubt it. Nothing will ever be enough. But maybe that’s exactly what love is.

“That I’m tired of hiding. I keep choosing you, breaking my rules for you, putting you first. Hell, I’m risking my mom’s happiness, for you.”

“I love you so much, sometimes I fucking hate you for it—for making me fall to the point where I’d abandon everything else for you. Because I would. I’d sell my team out and give you the pennant. I’d hand my soul over to Hades himself if it made you smile.”

“You’re the one I’d turn around for, Theo. Over and over again.”

Well, fuck a duck. I just got cuddle-blocked by my fucking parents.