Playing Dirty: Rules of the Game Book Five

  Playing Dirty

  Rules of the Game Book Five

  Emma Tharp

  Playing Dirty: A Players Redemption Hockey Romance (Rules Of The Game Book Five)

  By Emma Tharp

  Copyright © 2019 by Emma Tharp

  For more about this author, please visit www.emmatharp.com

  All characters and events in this Book, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, then please return to amazon.com and purchase an additional copy.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” at the address below.

  www.emmatharp.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  One

  Marcus

  My body is warm and my legs are tangled in the sheets. The first rays of the morning sun shine through the curtains, illuminating her platinum hair covering her pillow. I run a lazy fingertip up and down the soft skin of Chloe's arm. She smells amazing, like lilacs and sex. The curve of her hip peeks out from underneath the blanket—round and supple. Her body is perfect. And she makes me smile with her sassy attitude. She's just a hookup, but we see each other regularly. Some might call us friends with benefits. She's only the second person I've slept with since I came to Toronto six months ago. That’s saying something. My pace has slowed down since I left Nashville and I have Chloe to thank for that.

  My first hookup here reminded me of Alex, my ex-fiancée. It was a big mistake, sleeping with Sara. It was for all the wrong reasons. But Chloe is great, she isn't a mistake. Just easy and meaningless sex. What more could a guy ask for?

  She stretches her arms over her head and opens her heavy eyelids. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.” I lean in for a kiss. Her mouth stirs my desire, my need.

  I pull her in tight to me, her warm naked body pressing against mine. Visions of last night come to mind. Taking her from behind while she’s leaning over the dresser. Her riding me on the kitchen floor. To say this woman satisfies me is an understatement.

  She moans and glances at her alarm clock. "Damn. I've got to get ready for work.” Abruptly, she springs out of bed and makes her way toward her bathroom. “I’m sorry. I’ve got an early meeting. I’m going to be late. Call me when you're free again."

  I’m hard as a rock, with no relief in sight. I could go and join her in the shower, but the pinch between her brows and the speed at which she got up makes me believe she won’t even have time for a quickie.

  It’s okay. With Chloe, there’s no pressure. That's what I like about her. It's exactly what I need. I don't know why I ever thought that I was the “settle down” type of guy. It's not in my DNA.

  There's a pub around the corner from my condo. Tonight, Neil and I go over for a couple of drinks after practice. Neil is young and fun and likes to party. He's not engaged or married. Always available for a good time. Not everyone on the team is that flexible.

  We each take two shots of vodka back to back.

  I love the smooth burn as it travels down the back of my throat. It always takes the edge off.

  Neil's phone goes off with a text alert. It’s sitting on the bar and the monitor reads “Dad.” He ignores it. I get a pang in my gut. I don't have a father. Or at least one that I know. Mine took off when my mother was pregnant. I'm green with envy of men who have involved dads in their lives.

  "I am ready to mingle tonight," Neil says as he scans the small bar. As if there were a night he wasn’t ready. He’s a ladies’ man.

  "Not much here to see tonight." It's fine with me, I'm not really in the mood anyway, but Neil invited me and I blew him off the last time he asked me to go out to hook up with Chloe.

  "You're right. We might have to go down the street after this beer." He holds up his half-drank bottle.

  "Sure,” I agree and lean my elbows against the bar. “Did I tell you that I was engaged back in Nashville? What a mistake that was."

  Neil's jaw goes slack. "No shit. What happened?"

  I take a long drink of my beer. "We were too different. I like going out. She likes staying in. She didn't understand my lifestyle." And I cheated. Multiple times. But I leave that part out. "Settling down just isn't for me."

  "So, you and Chloe aren’t serious?" he asks. Neil has met Chloe twice now, once at a night club and once at a game. She’s a sports reporter. That’s how I met her.

  “No,” I tell him as two beautiful women walk in the front door of the pub. I glance at them, but turn my attention back to Neil. "Chloe is perfect. She doesn't want a commitment. And the sex is great. She's exactly what I need." We call when we need each other and she's so uninhibited in bed.

  "Whatever works, bro. You liking the Cyclones better than the Wolverines?” he asks. He's been with the Cyclones for three seasons now. I just got traded. "Fuck, yes. This team's got a better group of guys. Although Toronto's cold as fuck. The temperature is already below freezing and it's only November."

  We both laugh at that. I’ll take the cold any day over the bullshit I was dealing with back in Nashville. The guys were a bunch of assholes. One of them was even hooking up with my ex.

  "Yeah. I grew up in Michigan so I'm used to this," he says.

  "I'm from Arizona. Never got this cold."

  The women that just walked in the bar are now coming in our direction. They are lookers. Both are in tight pants and have big racks. One goes straight for Neil, and the other comes up to me.

  "Hi," she says, her voice high and pitchy. She bats eyelashes that are unnaturally long.

  "Hello."

  "What are you guys up to tonight?" The shirt she has on isn't flattering. It's cut too low and I can see too much of her cleavage. Up close, she isn’t as cute as I thought.

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I check the time and for messages. Unfortunately, there aren't any text messages from Chloe. That would’ve been nice. "I was just on my way out," I tell her without pretense. I'm not in the mood for this woman.

  The creases in her forehead make her look older.

  "Neil, I'm out of here. Have fun." I raise my eyebrows and swat him on the shoulder.

  "You're leaving?" he asks. He sounds disappointed, but maybe he'll have both of these women tonight and thank me later.

  "Yup. See you tomorrow."

  I send a quick message to Chloe to see if she's free tonight. A reply comes almost instantly. Damn. She's busy.

  I’m more than a little disappointed that she isn’
t available. I'd like her to warm my bed.

  Oh, well, I'm used to sleeping alone.

  Two

  Chloe

  Sipping on sweet white wine with my best friend, Vanessa, is one of my favorite ways to relax.

  "I think your phone just went off," Vanessa says, eyeing my purse.

  "I should check it. It could be work." It's been chaotic and if there's an exclusive story I need to cover, I don't want to miss it.

  Pulling my cell out of my bag, there’s a text from Marcus. I frown at the phone, type a quick reply, and shove it back in my purse.

  Vanessa inspects me with her eyebrow raised. "Wow, was it that bad?"

  I run a wheat cracker through the soft brie and raspberry jam and take a bite. "It was Marcus. He was asking if I'm free tonight. Which I'm obviously not."

  She spins a lock of her curly brown hair around her finger. "I thought things were going good with you guys. Just sex, right?"

  I love that my best friend doesn't judge my life choices. All I need or want right now is a no-strings-attached good time. "Yes, everything has been great. But I saw him last night. Two nights in a row feels excessive."

  Vanessa tilts her head back and laughs, clutching her stomach. "Do you have any idea how much you sound like a guy?"

  Now it's my turn to laugh. She's probably right, but that's all I have room for in my life right now. My job as a sports writer, time with my family or girlfriends, with sex sprinkled in from time to time.

  Am I opposed to a committed, long-term relationship with a man? No, if the right man came along. But I know exclusive is not in the cards for Marcus and me. That isn't how he operates. Plus, he’s an athlete. Sports writers don’t date athletes. We both knew what we were getting ourselves into from the beginning.

  Marcus sort of fell into my lap. I was interviewing Dan Ryan, coach of the Toronto Cyclones at the beginning of the season. Marcus sauntered in the room and our eyes locked. I knew from that moment that I wanted to sleep with him. It was the instant animal attraction, all chemistry. The feeling was mutual. As I left the room, he was outside the door waiting for me. He gave me his number and the rest is history.

  "You know what? I think the time has come for Marcus and me to end it." I wring my hands together under the table.

  Vanessa leans in closer. "Are you sure? He's pretty hot. And from what you tell me, you guys have a great time together."

  "The truth is, I'm afraid we're going to get caught. We're getting messy. We've been out together a few too many times. I am never going to be taken seriously in my field if people find out about us." My heart thuds in my chest. Getting caught isn’t an option.

  I’ve been with Today in Toronto for three years now. It’s a great gig being that I’m still only twenty-six. I was lucky when my boss, David, hired me right after my internship as a junior reporter. Today normally only hires once you have been in the field for at least a year. My Bachelor’s degree is in journalism, with a minor in feature writing and editing. David tells me all the time how well written my articles are. Sure, I do have to travel and my job can be stressful with tight deadlines, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I love what I do and my job is the perfect way to bring my passions together—writing and sports. But my goal is to get hired as a sports editor at a larger publication. One step at a time, but I won’t do anything to jeopardize my career.

  "It sounds like you've made up your mind. And I know how you are when you make up your mind. There’s no changing it. So, why don't you find someone so that we can double-date?" Vanessa has been in a serious relationship for the past two years. They are both bankers, but work for different branches. He seems to make her happy. And every time she’s asked me to go out on a double date, I’ve turned her down.

  I nod and give her a reassuring grin. "In due time. I'm in no rush."

  The next evening, I invite Marcus over so I can end things. It’s not an easy decision, because I like him and we have a great time together, but ultimately, it’s the right one. I don't even bother opening a bottle of wine. This will be quick. Am I going to miss him? Yes, I will, but my career is my priority until I find a man that I want to share my life with.

  I'm scrolling through the Toronto Daily sports section when there's a knock at my door.

  I swing the door open and there he is, looking handsome as always. My stomach does that thing it always does when I see him—it gets all fluttery and excited. This would be a hell of a lot easier if he were overweight and smelled bad. But no, he’s wearing a flat-brimmed hat, sweats, and a hoodie and he still looks edible.

  He comes in the door and cups my face in his hands and lays his lips against mine. His masculine, woodsy scent envelops me. It’d be so easy to sink into the kiss and let it consume me, but I don't.

  Pulling back, I say, "Please stop. Come in." I move to the side and point toward my kitchen table.

  He doesn't sit down but stands inches from me. "What's wrong, Chloe? Are you okay?" His big brown eyes gleam with amber flecks this evening. He stares down at me with a crease in his forehead.

  Averting my gaze, I look down at my hardwood floors. "I can't see you anymore."

  He tilts my chin up so I'm forced to look at him. "What happened? I thought this was working."

  "You know how bad it would be for my career if people find out about us. They would say that I’m sleeping my way to the top—that I got insider information through sex and not my journalistic ability. And I know we aren't dating, but if people found out we’re sleeping together, I'd be done." That's most of the reason. And I'm starting to get the sense that we both might be starting to feel something. There's no room for feelings in this relationship.

  "We could be more discreet. That shouldn't be a problem," he says.

  "You like to go out. And so do I. People are going to start to take notice. I just can't risk it anymore. I hope you can respect that."

  He steps in closer to me and runs his fingers through my hair. He knows I love it when he does that. "I'm going to miss you. And this.” His fingertips stroke my cheek and down my neck.

  I clench my inner thighs together to dull the building ache.

  "One more time?" he whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin. It makes my head feel light.

  "No,” I tell him, but my traitorous body is saying yes.

  He backs away slowly, searching my face for clues.

  “You better go,” I say with as much authority as I can muster. My heart stops as I wait for his next move. A part of me wants his hands on me one more time, but the smarter part knows it’s best if he leaves now.

  He gives me a tight nod. “Okay. You have my number.”

  “Goodbye,” I tell him, knowing full well I won’t be calling him again.

  Three

  Marcus

  Overall, this season has been going well. I've been scoring goals and I've had beautiful assists. My defensive game is on point. It's all I can ask for.

  I skate around the ice hard, feeling the blood pump in my quads during warm-ups. It's a home game tonight against Carolina. It shouldn't be an issue; their defense is weak this season.

  It sucks that Chloe ended things last night, but it's okay. On to the next woman. It shouldn't take long to find someone. There are a couple of cute puck bunnies standing up against the glass now with a sign that reads, “Selfie with us, Marcus?” I throw them a big smile and wave, but I don’t stop skating. They look at each other, faces animated with joy at the attention I gave them. No, it won’t be hard to find someone else.

  The adrenaline kicks in as soon as the ref drops the puck. The fans are loud tonight and it pumps me up. The perfect pass hits my stick and I'm set up to make a shot. My stick comes down and I take aim only to hit the boards. Fuck! How did I miss that?

  In the second period, I steal the puck from a Carolina defenseman and bounce it up the boards only to grab it again for a breakaway. My legs burn as I skate up the ice. There's no one there except me and the goalie. I go for
a low shot over his leg pad, but he blocks it. My heart drops. Shit. Nobody's going to pass me the puck tonight. I can't seem to connect one. I come off the ice when I finish my shift and take a seat on the bench hanging my head.

  Coach Ryan comes up behind me and yells in my ear. "Get your head in the damn game!” To prove the point that he’s dissatisfied with my play tonight, he sits me for two shifts.

  I hold out hope for the third period. My stick barely hits the puck. And I get a penalty for checking a Carolina forward who’s been on me all night. It's the worst game I've had since I played for Nashville. Thank God we won despite my shitty performance.

  I storm my way back to the locker room and tear off my helmet, throwing it to the floor.

  "Chill out, dude. It's one game. We all have a bad one every now and then," Neil says, trying to comfort me.

  “No big deal, Marcus. We won. Cheer up.” Dave Green, a defenseman calls out from across the room.

  I nod at Dave as he walks away and scrub my hands over my sweat covered face. "Nobody can afford a bad game in the NHL. And you know it. Let's go out. I need to find a hookup tonight,” I tell Neil.

  He’s untying his skates. "Sounds good to me."

  A quick hot shower does nothing to diffuse my anger. What I need right now is release. When I finish getting dressed and ready, I'm happy to see Neil is, too.

  Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I head for the door. Neil and I walk to the parking lot. “I’ll meet you at Fire in twenty minutes,” I tell him and get into my SUV.

  Good, the bar is crowded and there are women everywhere. Exactly what I need.