Unsportsmanlike Conduct: The Rules of the Game Book Four Page 2

  I park the car in a grassy area and follow the crowd into the venue. The amphitheater is in the middle of a beautiful state park. Tall trees line the streets and a lush green golf course is on my left. The energy is palpable—it’s almost like walking out of the locker room before a game and you can hear the crowd.

  Picking up a beer at one of the vendors, I walk toward the front of the stage. My seats are close but not too close. I'd rather she didn't see me during the concert. I'd hate to mess her up while she's working.

  There's an opening band and they have a good sound, but they aren't Lydia. I try to sit back and enjoy it, but all I can think about is her. It could be all the fans wearing Lydia Crow T-shirts or people’s signs that say “I love Lydia.”

  Mercifully, the opener finishes. My pulse picks up when the lights dim and Lydia Crow takes the stage— and my breath away. She looks incredible in tight black pants, heels, and a short black top that comes off the shoulders and shows just a small amount of her flat abdomen. Absolutely fucking beautiful.

  I've downloaded all of her music but the song she starts the set with tonight is one I don't recognize. Her band plays the soft melody behind her while she sings about roads traveled and life changing its course. Love found and love lost. It's haunting and beautiful and it almost moves me to tears. I wonder who she wrote it about. Could it be me?

  There are men, women, and children of all ages singing and dancing during the entire concert. The vibe in the air is electric. I look behind me and every seat is taken and the lawn behind me is full. A true testament to the artist that Lydia is and the fans she has. I'm in awe of her.

  Lydia leaves her heart and soul on the stage for her fans. And for me. I already knew she’s a star—and now that I’ve seen her live, it solidifies it.

  Afterward, I make my way backstage with the pass I paid way too much money for on her fan website. Worth every penny.

  I'm ushered to a room in the back where Lydia is signing autographs and taking photos with fans. There's a long line of people, but I don't care. I'll wait.

  The second I see her, my heart rate speeds up to what must be an unhealthy rate. I can't take my eyes off her. I'm closer now and can make out the dark lines under her eyes and it looks as though she's lost weight. And she doesn’t need to: she's got a beautiful body. I ache to touch her now and I can barely stand waiting to see her, to talk to her.

  The exact moment when she sees me her eyes widen, and she mouths my name.

  Four

  Lydia

  After the show, I go through the motions and sign fans’ autographs, smile, and take selfies with them, but my heart isn't in it. I know these people paid a pretty penny for the meet and greet tonight and I’m grateful for every fan I have, but I’m tired. We’ve been on the road for three months with very little time off. There’s only three weeks left of the tour, and I’m counting the days. I need to take some time for myself.

  "Who would you like me to make this out to?" I ask the gentleman with a cowboy hat on, my Sharpie poised to sign his poster.

  That's when I see him—standing across the room in the line for an autograph. My heart stops beating. It's Wes.

  He nods and gives me a sad smile. He’s still wickedly handsome and I can't take my eyes off him. I grip my Sharpie so tight my hand goes numb.

  It's hard to focus with Wes nearby—it’s like I can sense his eyes on me the entire time—but I sign several more autographs before the place clears out and Wes and I are left alone—with the exception of my bodyguard.

  "Bruno, you're free to go,” I tell him. Sure, I know he recognizes Wes, but he won’t step away until I give him the go-ahead.

  The giant nods and closes the door behind him

  Our gazes lock and his green eyes bore into mine. His clean, masculine smell envelops me—it’s familiar and mouthwatering. "You're here.”

  Memories come flooding back. I must’ve been repressing them. Seeing him now, his tall, lean, and strong body, his capable hands, his angular jawline—I remember the way he used to touch me, how it felt to have his arms around me. The safety and comfort he provided—the hours of pleasure. My heart was broken before, but now a few more pieces chip away.

  "Yes,” he says in that voice that makes my stomach flutter.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask with surprise and accusation in my tone.

  He runs his fingers through his wavy brown hair. "You won’t answer my phone calls. I needed to see you. Can we please get out of here?"

  I hesitate and almost say yes. But I can't do it—who knows what might happen if I leave here with him? I don’t trust myself. It’s taken me far too long to try to get over him. "We can talk here."

  The air leaves my lungs when he touches my cheek with the back of his hand. "It's so good to see you, Lyd." His voice is quiet and soft and everything I remember. "I got drunk a few nights ago at Derek and Cora's engagement party. Did you know they're engaged? Please delete the message I sent you. I was lonely in the Uber on my way home. It wasn't my finest hour." He jams his hands deep in his pockets and lowers his head.

  No, I didn’t know Derek and Cora were engaged. I’ll have to send them an engagement gift. When he called, I didn't pick up. But I did listen to his message more times than I'd like to admit. He was crying and told me how much he missed me. It tore me up to hear it. “I’ll do that. Are you okay, with the drinking?”

  He takes a step closer to me—and he was already close to begin with. "Yes, it was only a minor setback. Please come back to my hotel with me. Or meet me for coffee. Anything. I need to talk to you. That's all I ask."

  He seems so vulnerable. His normally smooth skin is crinkled with—what? Fear, worry that I’ll say no? Every part of me is drawn to Wes. I’ve never been able to deny him—that’s why I broke things off over Skype. Because I knew if I did it in person, he’d touch me the way he knows I like to be touched, or he’d use his magnetic superpowers against me. Breaking up with him was the hardest decision I’ve had to make in a very long time, but it was the only choice I had to save myself from more sorrow.

  My heart and my mind are at war. But my heart wins and I’m deaf to every voice of reason.

  "Okay. Meet me at the Concordia. I'll tell Bruno to let you up. I'm in the penthouse."

  His smile is wide, beautiful, bright, and hopeful. "Okay."

  The ride to the hotel is short and I worry that I've made the wrong choice, but seeing him only proves to me that the feelings I was developing aren't gone. Oh, no. They're nowhere near gone.

  Five

  Wes

  I can't believe she's finally going to see me. I should've thought of this sooner—I could’ve shown up at any of her concerts. There’s heavy traffic on my way out of SPAC, but I don’t mind it. It gives my nerves some time to calm down after seeing her and getting the initial meeting out of the way. Sure, I’m still nervous for our next conversation, but the fact is that there will be a next conversation. I wasn’t even sure she’d give me that much.

  Even though I thought I was calming down after seeing Lydia, my heart rattles in my chest when I get off the elevator and head toward her room. Bruno is waiting by her door. He gives me a slight nod, granting me permission to knock. I do and wait.

  Lydia opens the door, looking as radiant as ever in shorts and a black T-shirt.

  My eyes lock with her steely grays, and that's it, I'm completely mesmerized by her. My knees weaken slightly but I regain my composure. "Hi," I say.

  “Hi. Come in." She steps aside and leads me to the living room area. Her suite is massive. This room has a piano, a fireplace, a bar, a couch, and two plush chairs.

  We sit facing each other on the couch. There’s darkness under her eyes. I wonder if she's been sleeping. I want to touch her, just to feel close to her again, but I keep my hands to myself. For now.

  She crosses her arms over her chest. "I was surprised to see you, Wes."

  "I've been meaning to get to one of your shows. I thought why not this
one?" I’m trying to be funny, but she doesn't crack a smile like I hoped she might.

  “It's playoffs. How did you get away?" There's worry in her tone. My heart melts a little at her concern for me.

  "I told my trainer I wasn't feeling well and needed tomorrow off."

  Her mouth opens slightly, she assesses me, taking me in. "Oh. So, now that you’re here, why don’t you tell me what's on your mind?"

  “I need to talk to you. Things weren’t clear the night you broke things off.” I look down at my hands and wring them together—they’re shaking. “Because I don’t understand why you didn’t talk to me about it. You just made up your mind and Skyped me. You know how fucking bad that hurt. That you wouldn’t even be in the same room as me when you broke up with me and broke my fucking heart.” Before I came here, I didn’t plan what I was going to say. I was just going to go with my gut. I’ve got to lay it all on the line. Who knows if she’ll see or talk to me again after this?

  "I'm sorry. I worried that if we were together that I wouldn’t be able to follow through,” she says quietly.

  That’s the reason she should’ve done it in person. “Do you hear how that sounds? You took the easy way out.”

  She bites at the corner of her mouth. “You’re right. I did. I was a coward.”

  At least she’s admitting it. Although it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Flexing my jaw, I say, “It was so sudden. I wasn’t prepared for it. Can you put yourself in my shoes?”

  “Wes, this wasn’t easy. None of it.” She blinks rapidly.

  “Well, it seemed pretty easy to me.” My face heats up and I take a few calming breaths. “You barely looked like it fazed you that night.”

  Guilt flashes across her features. “I was barely holding it together. When we got off, I was a mess.”

  “You should’ve showed me that. I was dying inside and I thought you couldn’t care less,” I spit out.

  “No, it wasn’t one sided. I thought you’d have no problem moving on. I’m sorry you felt like this was easy for me. It was so damn hard, Wes.” She’s crying now and it breaks me. Why couldn’t she have said these things that night?

  "Thank you.” I bite at the corner of my mouth in an attempt to keep my emotions in check. “Can you please start at the beginning now? I need to hear it all.”

  She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and fixes me with her stare. "When we started out, we agreed it would be best to stay casual. Just sex, right?"

  "Yes, but…"

  "Right. We agreed. But it didn’t feel like it ended up that way." Her eyes squint at the corners.

  "Yes. But I don't see why that's a problem. Terms change on agreements all the time. We could've come up with something new if you’d have given me the courtesy of an open conversation instead of taking it upon yourself to decide for the both of us." My words are harsh, but my tone mellow.

  Lydia winces. "Okay, what terms would you have suggested?"

  I'm shocked she's even entertaining hearing what my idea would’ve been. I'm going to have to play it cool though. "Maybe living day by day. How about that?"

  Her brows raise. "What do you mean?"

  "It's simple. We date and care about each other and don’t get caught up in any of the other BS."

  She’s shaking her head, her facial features tight. "You think it's that easy?"

  "Why can’t it be? When we were together, it was easy. We were the ones who made it hard by setting limits on what we could and couldn't be." My words come out fast now since they've been pent up so long and I can’t wait to get them out.

  "But…”

  It’s my turn to cut her off. "No. Please. I have no doubt in us. And I know you're concerned about the age thing, but I'm not." I give the last word a little extra emphasis.

  She plays with the fray on the bottom of her jean shorts, and her hair fans her face.

  She’s shutting me out.

  Moving in closer, I push her hair over her shoulder to find tears on her cheeks again.

  "Wes, we talked about this. We're in different phases of our lives. It’d never work long-term." Her voice shakes.

  "First of all, besides age, how are we in different phases in our lives? Because the way I see it we’re in the prime of our careers and we’re both single — wait. Are you still single?" My stomach sinks imagining her dating someone else.

  She nods.

  Relief spreads through my entire body. "Okay, see? There's no difference there. We are both aware of the other's career demands. And to address your other concern, it was working before you decided to end it. At least I thought so. Was I wrong?"

  "Wes." Her voice is resigned and sad.

  "Please tell me if I'm wrong. Was our relationship working?" I ask.

  She turns her body fully toward mine and finally uncrosses her arms. "It was getting complicated."

  "How? Please elaborate. This is the stuff I need to know."

  "We were developing feelings for each other. It got…” She swallows hard. “Intense."

  My hand moves to touch her bare leg, but I think better of it and set it back on my lap. "Is intense bad? Because I was feeling pretty damn good about things. Every time I had to leave you, I couldn't wait to see you again. And when we were together…it was fire."

  Her eyes soften and she shakes her head. She's agreeing. Good.

  "I came here to ask for a chance." I raise a finger. "One more chance. No expectations, no prearranged agreements. Just us. We both have the rest of June, and all of July and August off." I lay my hand gently on her smooth thigh and relish the feeling of her skin under my fingertips. “Can we just try to be us this summer? Please?"

  Six

  Lydia

  When I saw him after the show, I resigned myself to talking to him and giving him closure but now I see that's impossible. He has too many valid points and I'm sick of fighting my feelings. Every instinct tells me to guard my heart, but my heart doesn’t want to heed the warnings. It’s stubborn and is drawn to Wes like a moth to a flame.

  "Wes, do you know how badly you could hurt me?" I don't believe I ever expressed to him how much pain I went through when my husband died. For years I felt like I didn’t deserve to move on. I should’ve been in the car with him that day, but I wasn’t feeling well and stayed home. He was killed instantly in the crash. The car was totaled. When I met Wes, my feelings were developing for him so quickly that I feared the damage that could be done when he decided that our age difference was too much. I didn’t want to put myself in that situation—to get hurt again.

  "Lydia, I feel the same. You've already done it." There’s sadness in his green eyes and an ache forms in my chest. I knew I'd hurt him when I broke things off, but I thought he’d get over me quickly and move on to the next beautiful girl. He had a reputation before I met him. His bed was never cold. I thought he’d find someone else.

  "I hurt both of us and I'm so sorry. I thought it would be best for us to break up, but I can see now I was wrong."

  He takes my hands in his and kisses the back of each one. My heart warms and my insides come alive at his touch. "Did you miss me?” he asks.

  "Very much,” I admit. Words don’t begin to cover it. Every night when I went to sleep, I’d cry with missing him. He’d be the first thing I thought of when I awoke in the morning— until the realization that I couldn’t call him and hear his voice. At night, I’d toss and turn dreaming of Wes with other women, happy without me.

  “The first song you played tonight, I’ve never heard it before. Is it new?” Wes asks.

  “It is. I hope you like it. It was about you.” I give him a shy smile.

  He nods and leans in. I run my fingers over the soft skin of his cheek, so smooth and vibrant with youth.

  A low growl escapes his lips seconds before they are on mine. It's not gentle. He's claiming me.

  Our tongues tangle together, reacquainting themselves. He tastes so good, exactly as I remember. Every cell in my body awakens, as if it's
been dormant for the last six months.

  He stands and takes both of my hands in his to pull me up, our bodies flush against each other. Scanning the room, he says, “Is the bedroom that way?” He points to the left. “Because I need you, Lydia. But if it’s too soon, I understand.”

  I need him, too. “It’s this way.” I saunter in that direction—peering over my shoulder, I see Wes is shamelessly staring at my ass.

  He follows me down the short hallway and I take him into the suite.

  He strips my shirt off and unbuttons my bra, sending it to the floor. He stands back and gazes at me. God, I've missed that look in his eyes. Complete admiration mixed with deep and utter desire. Wes cups my breasts and we both moan at the same time.

  I tug his shirt off and press our bare chests together. It's something I've always loved, the way his satiny skin feels against mine. Our hearts beat fast in tandem and our mouths come together once again.

  His hands start at my shoulders and gently rub, then he slides them softly down my arms to my hands. He lets go only to unbutton my jean shorts and tug them down with my thong.

  Undoing his jeans, I take them off with his boxer briefs. My belly clenches at the sight of this toned, gorgeous man standing in front of me. So strong and virile. My hands wrap around his erection—reminding myself how good he feels—long and thick. He tilts his head back and groans.

  He walks me to the bed and I lie down first. He hasn’t taken his smoldering eyes off me and I feel the weight of his stare on every inch of my body. My breathing speeds up when he lies down next to me and guides my legs open. Slipping one finger down, he presses it inside me. I’m slick and ready for him.