Ready to Play (Ready For Love #1)

1. Brent

1

Brent

“ I ’m going to enjoy nibbling on that tasty snack when I take her home tonight.”

I drag my attention away from Joey’s enticing curves and turn to my teammate, lounging on the seat beside me. I follow CJ’s leering gaze to find out who his targeted bedmate for the night is and land back on Joey. What the fuck?

Swinging back to CJ, I pin him with a glare. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

His brown eyes widen in surprise, then he lets out a laugh. “What? You claiming her? Too fucking late, bro. I already called it.”

“You can call it until you’re blue in the face, or the balls, bro , but she’s off-limits to the entire team—hell, to every man in this club, including me.”

“You shouldn’t have called her up here then.”

Up here is the VIP lounge on the second floor of Ignite, the nightclub that I partly own.

“She is smokin’ hot, and I ain’t the only one checking her out,” he continues.

I glance around and note more than a few pairs of interested eyes on Joey. Or more specifically, on her rack. Her spectacular rack. I can’t blame them for checking her out, since I’d been doing the same, but it doesn’t mean I like it.

“She’s my sister’s best friend,” I explain. “I invited her up here because some jerk-off was bothering her on the dance floor downstairs.”

She’d appeared uncomfortable even before that incident, standing awkwardly with a group of women who were dancing and having fun. I’d noticed her right away when I’d stood at the balcony earlier with CJ, scoping out the possibilities and discussing who we’d invite up.

It wasn’t her statuesque height that had called my attention to her, nor was it the almost Amish-like clothes, a stark contrast to all the shimmering dresses with the low necklines and high hemlines. She stood out because she is the most beautiful woman in the club, where there is never a shortage of good-looking women.

I’d invited my new teammates to the club for a night of fun after finishing mini-camp this week. Technically I’m the new one since this will be my first season as tight end with the New York Firebirds, so I figure a little more bonding before training camp starts next month couldn’t hurt.

But I haven’t been bonding or having fun since inviting Joey up here. I’ve been too busy lusting after her. She’d thrown off her blazer at some point, revealing a modest sleeveless top that showcases her full breasts. Breasts I’d touched way too briefly during our one and only kiss nine years ago.

Desire wells up, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat to ease the tightening in my pants.

What happened to the shy, serious girl I thought I knew? The one I saw downstairs? This girl is dancing like no one’s watching, swaying sensually to her own beat, her eyes closed and arms raised.

I’m glad she’s having a good time. After the unhappy childhood she had, I wouldn’t blame her for making up for those years with all the fun she can. I’ve certainly been making up for my own miserable years. And I plan to do more of it tonight.

With that in mind, I try to switch my focus to the other women here. Beautiful women willing to offer an uncomplicated good time.

A part of me—the part below my belt—wishes Joey was that type of woman. One who would leave with me for a few hours of fun with no expectations for anything more.

Who says she’s not that type?

My dick and I come to attention at the thought. I’ve ignored the simmering heat between us over the years, but it’s always been there. And tonight I’m burning up from it. Maybe she is too. If not, I know I can easily stoke the fire until she is.

I can’t blame alcohol for my demented reasoning. I don’t drink more than a beer or two when preparing for the season. No, it’s one particular body part that’s doing all the thinking—rationalizing—right now.

The kiss we’d shared in the moonlight years ago had started as a moment of comfort, but quickly morphed into something more. I can still recall the softness of her lips as they shyly parted beneath mine, the sweetness I want to—

“You are one lovestruck mofo.”

I pull my gaze away from Joey, having no idea when I’d gone back to staring at her. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

CJ shakes his head, causing his shoulder-length dreadlocks to swing, and gives me a look full of pity, making my shoulders tense defensively.

“I’m only watching out for her,” I insist. “She’s a family friend, practically another sister.” I almost choke on the lie, my words belying my desire. “Off-limits, remember?” I grab a water bottle from the ice bucket on the low table in front of us, hoping it cools me down.

My sisters readily accepted her as part of the family when she moved in with us after her mother’s death, but I sure as hell didn’t want another sister; four were enough for me. And I’ve never felt anything remotely like a brother toward her, but our four-and-a-half year age difference meant I couldn’t do anything about it.

“If you say so, brother. But evidence says otherwise.” With the glass he’s holding, he gestures toward my crotch.

I lower the bottle from my mouth, narrowing my eyes at him. He should be bleeding from all the daggers I’ve thrown at him tonight. Instead, he’s deflected my glares, starting with when he flirted with Joey after I introduced them, and again when he handed her a shot of whiskey.

“Why are you looking there, asshole? I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

“Fuck you.” CJ grins. “It’s hard to miss that.”

“Jealous?”

“Of a white boy like you? Pfft .” He scoffs. “You know there’s a reason women say, ‘Once you go black, you never go back.’” CJ smirks and takes another sip of his whiskey, glancing around. “Hey, looks like someone didn’t get your hands off memo.”

I whip my head around to catch Joey dancing with some man. With the height difference between the two, the asshole is mouth level with Joey’s breasts. Who the fuck is he? As puny as he is, definitely not a player—not the athletic kind anyway.

The fucker puts his hands on her hips, bringing him inches away from her chest. Damn it. I jump up and head in her direction, ignoring CJ’s mocking laugh.

Joey gives me a radiant smile when she spots me. My chest tightens, but I ignore it. As a football player, I’m used to ignoring pain.

Abandoning her dancing partner, she starts toward me and trips over nothing, almost crashing into me. She giggles when I catch her and tips her head back, her eyes staring into mine. I look away from them, unwilling and uncomfortable to see what they’re trying to convey. I let go of her, and she ends up leaning against me, her arms on my chest and her head tucked under my chin. My hands automatically go to her waist, then around to rest on her lower back.

I haven’t been this close to her in a long time, too fucking long. I breathe in her scent. She still smells like a field of flowers. Giving in to temptation, I pull her closer. Damn, it feels good to have her in my arms again. Just for a minute, I tell myself.

She lifts her head and kisses me on the cheek, something she’s never dared before in all the times we’ve greeted each other. We’ve never even done the awkward hug thing.

“Thank you, Brent, for inviting me up. I’m having so much fun.” She slides her hands up and around my neck, her firm breasts pressing against me.

“Off-limits, my ass!” CJ punches me in the arm not so lightly as he walks by us. He goes to a group of women and performs some intricate dance moves, probably trying to impress one of them enough to spend the night with him. He won’t have to try too hard, with the way the women’s faces light up at his arrival. His success on the field as a wide receiver rivals his success with the ladies, earning him the moniker Horndog from his teammates.

Joey’s mouth moves against my skin above the collar of my button-down shirt. Is she aware of what she’s doing? She’s always been shy and awkward with me, making me wonder if it’s the alcohol or if she’s only been that way around me. How many men have held her like this, her body lined up perfectly with theirs? How many have felt the softness of her skin on her…

I stop myself from going further when that earlier tightness returns. I don’t like the thought of any other man touching her, eyeing her, though it makes me a hypocrite, considering how many women I’ve been with.

We’re barely swaying to the music, locked in each other’s arms, completely out of sync with the hip-hop song that’s playing. My dick is getting painfully uncomfortable, and it’s all I can do not to roll my hips against her. If we weren’t in the middle of the dance floor, I’d do so much more than that.

I try to put space between us to regain some semblance of control. She protests with a small moan, and I move my hands to her upper arms to keep her from plastering back against me. She arches her hips against me instead, making me groan with need.

Fuck it. It’s time—past time—to go to her place and damn the consequences. She’s a grown woman, and I’m tired of us resisting what we’ve both wanted for years.

“You ready to leave, Joey?”

She straightens, coming back to sudden alertness. “What? No!” Her wide-eyed distress turns into a smile. “I’m having so much fun.”

I stare at her mouth. God, she’s gorgeous and sexy. The dark, sultry features from her Indian heritage blend beautifully with the strong jawline and high cheekbones of her Irish ancestry. I take in my fill of her, something I haven’t been able to do in our brief encounters while surrounded by my family.

She looks back at me just as intently, her eyes telling me she wants the same thing I do. I’m ready to take her to the nearest dark corner and give us what we both want. Then her smile disappears, and she straightens, as if something just occurred to her. She opens her mouth to speak, closes it, and shakes her head.

“What?” I ask, curious about what she was going to say.

“Wait. I’ll be right back.”

She slips out of my hold and makes her way to the bar. As I follow her, I realize she’s weaving, not quite walking in a straight line. I frown. How much has she had to drink? I reach her as she picks up a shot the bartender passed her. She tosses it back before I can react.

What the hell?

“Joey, I think you’ve had enough.” I shake my head at the bartender when she signals for another.

She licks the drops of alcohol from her lips. Desire kicks up a notch as I watch her tongue run across her upper lip. I want to kiss her, badly. Then she stumbles back a step, and I catch her arm to keep her from falling over. Fuck.

She gets that intent expression on her face again and takes a deep breath, like she’s trying to screw up some courage before doing something dangerous.

She leans close to my ear and blurts out a question in a rush. “Brent, will you be my first?”

I wait for her to finish the question, but she stares at me, her eyes wide with expectation.

I have no idea what she’s talking about. “First what?”

“My first lover.”