Bad Boy Brit (A British Bad Boy Romance) Page 8

  After all, you never knew how a girl was going to react to breaking and entering.

  Allison gasped as I brought out a set of lock picks and knelt to work on the lock. “Oh my god! You’re picking the lock?”

  “Yep.”

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get caught? More to the point, aren’t you afraid we’ll get caught?”

  The door clicked open and I smiled what I hoped was a confident, but also comforting, smile. “Old Reg is all right. Me and him go way back; he’s happy to look the other way for an hour or two. Trust me. No one will ever find out, and you’ll love having the whole pitch to yourself. That’s why we had to come so late.”

  I held the door open for Allison, and after a moment’s consideration, she walked through.

  “If he’s such a good friend, why didn’t he just unlock the door for you?” she asked.

  “Because picking the lock is so much more impressive,” I said with another roguish smirk.

  “Yeah…in prison, maybe.” Allison flashed me a look, and I was forced to reflect that she saw through my bullshit a lot better than any other girl I’d ever met. I might have to stick to the truth tonight.

  I sighed. “Okay, truth is, if the camera’s pointing the wrong way at the crucial moment, then that’s nobody’s fault. But if he were to actually unlock the door for me, well…then Reg could lose his job. I’m not having that on my account.”

  Allison nodded; that, she obviously believed.

  “This way.” I led the way through a maze of darkened corridors, picking up a football on the way. Allison followed.

  “Where did you learn to pick locks?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “In my part of town everyone knew how. You just sort of learned as a matter of course. I think me and Dean would’ve starved if we hadn’t known. Couldn’t tell you who taught me—Dean probably—but it never leaves you. Just like riding a bike. Which is something I’d never have learned to do if I hadn’t known how to pick a bike lock.” I paused, not wanting to spoil the moment but not wanting her to misunderstand either. “I’m not proud of it, you know—stealing someone else’s bike. Not what you’d call proud at all. It’s the way it was, and now it’s part of who I am.”

  Allison simply nodded, and in the dark, I felt her take my hand and give it a gentle squeeze before releasing it again.

  “This way.”

  I led on, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest; it was beating that fucking fast from her touch alone.

  A few moments later and an open door loomed ahead of us, picked out by the pale moonlight that shone through.

  “Here we go.”

  We passed through the door.

  “Oh my…” Allison seemed unable to complete the sentence, so overwhelmed by the sight she was now presented with. Her hands flew to her mouth as her eyes widened to try and take in all they saw. She turned around and around as we walked out onto the grass, gazing in wonder at the stadium she’d probably seen so many times but was now seeing from a completely different perspective.

  I watched her. Her reaction was exactly the same as mine had been when I’d first walked out here, and that fact made this moment all the more special.

  “It’s so…” Allison still seemed unable to successfully complete a sentence.

  “Awesome, isn’t it?” Placing the ball on the ground for the time being, I started to walk back towards the entrance. “Stay there a minute.”

  From the looks of her, I couldn’t have removed Allison even if I tried. She continued to turn around and around, still gaping, and still going through some private moment of revelation.

  At a jog, I hurried to the electrician’s booth. It was locked, but that didn’t present me with any major problem. Once inside, I ran my hand down a row of switches, wishing I could’ve been out on the pitch to see Allison’s reaction as the huge arc lights that lit the stadium burst into brilliant light, turning night into day.

  I hurried back out to the stadium itself. Allison was now sitting cross-legged, almost in the center of the pitch, her head lolled back, gazing up at the lights. As I drew closer, I saw her close her eyes, and I thought I knew why.

  “Can you hear them?”

  Allison opened her eyes again to look up at me. “Hear who?”

  “The fans.”

  Allison grinned involuntarily and I knew that I’d guessed right. Again, I’d done the exact same thing when I’d first come out here; closed my eyes and imagined the roar of the crowd around me, lifting me, energizing me.

  “How do you do it?” Allison asked.

  “What?”

  “I mean, doesn’t it make you nervous? Knowing that all these people—all these people—are here for you. They’re relying on you. Cheering when you do good, blaming you and yelling at you when you screw up. Doesn’t that make you nervous?”

  I nodded. “Of course it does. But…” I thought about the question. There was of course the standard media answer but that didn’t come close to being the truth. “I guess,” I finally said, “that’s what drives me to win.”

  Allison nodded. “Seems to work, huh?”

  “Yeah. So far, so good.” I gazed around at the empty seats. In a way I preferred them like this. “Can’t last forever, though.” I looked back down at her. “I never asked; why did your editor let you stay if the article was finished?”

  Allison looked away, apparently embarrassed. “I told him there was a bigger story…that there was a rumor saying you were considering moving to the US.”

  “What?” I said, chuckling. “I’m not, you know. That’s more of an end of career thing.”

  “I know.” Allison nodded shyly, still unwilling to meet my gaze. “I guess I just…I wasn’t ready to go yet. I guess I wanted to see you again.”

  “You did, huh?”

  Only now did she look up, and our eyes met. The look between us couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds and yet it felt far longer. There was a heat; an electricity that crackled through the crisp night air. It was something that, for now at least, neither of us seemed ready to deal with, and we both looked away almost simultaneously.

  I cursed myself—I should have gone for it in that moment. But then again, that was what the cocky asshole version of me would’ve done: conquered the girl and taken the prize. I wasn’t him tonight. Tonight, I was a new version of myself. A better version of myself; the kind of guy who actually gave a fuck about a woman.

  I picked up the football.

  “So, do you just know the game or do you actually play?”

  Allison stood. “Seriously? I get to play on this pitch?”

  I grinned. “That’s what it’s for. I didn’t just bring you out here to look at it.”

  Allison looked around nervously. “I guess, but…”

  “Unless you’re chicken.”

  That did it. I saw the fire ignite in her eyes as she drew herself up to her full height— at five foot two, it was barely worth doing but she did it anyway. She was so small that I wanted to pick her up, squeeze her and carry her around like a caveman, but I refrained and kept my distance.

  “I’ll show you who’s a chicken. Toss me the ball!” she called out.

  I threw the ball to her and she caught it on one foot, kicked it from one to the other for a while, then caught it on her head to balance it there a second. Then she let it drop to the ground and placed her foot on it with an air of smug finality.

  I shrugged, pretending I was far less impressed than I was. “Well, that’s all very good when no one’s trying to take the ball from you, but let’s see what you’ve really got.”

  I sprinted towards her. Allison skillfully ducked to one side, taking the ball with her and keeping it just out of my reach, but I was too quick.

  “What the…?”

  Allison turned back with an expression on her face that showed she hadn’t even known when she’d lost the ball.

  “Don’t feel bad,” I said with a cheeky smile. “That particular stunt wasn
’t as extremely easy as I made it look.”

  Allison nodded, pulled off her jacket, and tossed it to one side. Determination flashed in her eyes. “Okay, you got it. But let’s see if you can keep it…”

  I had to admit, for someone who didn’t play every day of her life—and especially for an American who’d likely been brought up on NFL and baseball—Allison really knew how to play. Perhaps I could’ve kept the ball away from her more than I did; after all, I was apparently the best player in the world right now…but where the hell was the fun in that?

  The ball moved between us at pace, threading between legs, kicked over heads, faked and ducked around. We twisted about each other, bumping bodies as the play became faster and more physical, our breathing rapid and ragged as each tried to one-up the other.

  I wondered if she was this wild and energetic in the sack. Something told me she would be, and I felt a stirring in my pants as I considered this. The thought must have momentarily thrown me off my game, because Allison suddenly made a break for it with the ball at her feet, running faster than she had before, heading towards the far end of the pitch. Without slowing her pace she sighted the goal and kicked the ball hard, launching it in a graceful arc to land with silken perfection in the back of the net.

  I grinned and watched the goal from the middle of the pitch. I saw the kick, saw the arc, willed the ball to find its mark, and quietly exulted as it hit the net. As I began to jog towards her, I saw Allison skid to a halt and throw her hands in the air, whooping in delight—another dream fulfilled; kicking a goal in one of Britain’s most famous stadiums. I loved being the guy who’d made that happen for her.

  She flopped down to lie on the ground just as I reached her, and I joined her, lying on my back and staring up at the sky.

  “You let me have that. You could’ve caught me,” she said.

  “Nah, you beat me fair and square. It was a hell of a goal.”

  She smiled. “I guess it was pretty awesome, huh?” The excitement was vivid in her voice. “I never thought I’d ever get the chance to do that and…it’s like a dream.” She paused. “This is going to sound really childish, but honestly, this whole night has been like a dream.”

  “Doesn’t sound childish at all. Nothing wrong with loving a sport and having dreams about it at any age.”

  She turned her head on the ground to look at me. I was already staring at her, so once again our eyes met.

  Suddenly the automatic sprinklers went off to water the pitch, drenching us without cooling the heat of the moment. Allison giggled and I burst out laughing, neither of us caring one iota how wet we got.

  “You think there’s chemicals in this water?” Allison finally asked. “Like weed killer or something?”

  “Probably.”

  We both sat up and looked at each other again. I suddenly found myself very aware of the sound of my own breathing, and Allison’s breathing as well. Though we were past the exertion of our little game, we seemed to be breathing more heavily now than before. Allison’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath, and I found myself unable to look away. Her white T shirt was soaked through, and her nipples showed dark and erect through the thin material. I knew I should probably look away, but Allison seemed to be looking at my slicked torso with just as much heat in her eyes as I felt for her.

  Finally, we both looked up, and for a third time our eyes met. This time it was simply too much to bear. It would’ve been impossible to say who moved first; I only knew that if I hadn’t moved, if I hadn’t lunged forward to kiss her right then and there, then I probably would have damn well burst from frustration. I found no resistance. Allison seemed to welcome the kiss, and she returned it as if her life depended on it.

  I’d kissed many women before; there was no doubt about that. On those occasions, there had been heat, there had been passion, and there had certainly been arousal. But there had never been need. I didn’t need to kiss a woman and I didn’t need relief from my undoubted arousal, but I knew that I needed Allison—to kiss her, hold her, to be with her. Maybe even love her…but that was a thought for another moment, another day.

  The kiss ended and we parted, our breath audible once again. I noticed that Allison was shaking and wondered if the water had made her cold, but then I noticed that I was shaking too, and I wasn’t even close to cold. Hell no. I was burning for her.

  Without a word, I got to my feet and offered a hand to Allison. She took it and I helped her up. She rested against me for a second, as if she might fall without my support, and as our eyes met again there was more than mere heat between us; there was a clear and mutual understanding.

  I kept Allison’s hand in mine and led her across the stadium. Her steps were eager and urgent, and there were still no words between us. They had ceased to be necessary.

  We both knew exactly what we wanted to do in this moment, and we were damn well going to do it.

  Chapter 9

  Allison

  In this sort of situation, my mind would’ve usually been racing nineteen to the dozen, asking me what the hell I was doing, if I was sure and whether or not I had my sexiest black panties on. Not that I often found myself in this sort of situation; I wasn’t the sort of girl who gave it up on a first date—well, there were a couple of anomalies which argued against that, but what happens in college stays in college, right? The point was that if I had been the sort of girl who regularly did this sort of thing, then each time I did it, my mind would’ve been trying to trip me up with a whole bunch of questions, and yet right now it wasn’t.

  I also might’ve been wearing nicer panties if this was the sort of thing I did regularly…but to hell with that. I doubted Liam cared what my underwear looked like, as long as he got it off me in good time.

  There was something almost unreal about what was happening right now. We hadn’t said a word to each other since I’d asked about chemicals in the sprinkler water—which could hardly be considered one of the world’s greatest lines of seduction—and yet it felt as if we hadn’t stopped talking. All the unasked and unanswered questions had, on some level, been asked and answered. We both knew what was about to happen; both knew that we wanted it to happen.

  More than anything.

  If questions had actually been asked, the answer would’ve been a resounding and unequivocal ‘YES!’, and somehow, not asking made it different; made it more personal. There was none of that, ‘Well it’s our first date, soooooo…’ awkwardness. We understood each other, we wanted each other, and that was all there was to it. Why would there be any need to articulate that further in words?

  Liam opened a door high above the stadium and led me into a little booth where the announcer usually sat during games. At first I’d wondered where he was taking me, and why there in particular. After the sprinklers had gone off, sex on the pitch had lost some of its appeal, but there was no shortage of other rooms in the stadium’s labyrinthine complex that were presumably warm and dry and had some sturdy enough items of furniture. To tell the truth, I was so turned on right now that I’d probably have been perfectly happy with the floor. But now I was here, and I could see out of the announcer’s window to the eagle’s eye view of the stadium.

  It was painfully beautiful. The room itself, with its table, chairs, microphone and associated equipment, might not be anything special, but that view….my god. It definitely wasn’t everyone’s idea of romantic, but Liam apparently understood me very well indeed.

  He caught my errant hand and I turned to face him, his eyes questioning and uncertain: did I do right? Is this okay? I answered him with a kiss, stretching up on the tips of my toes to reach his warm mouth, my soft body pressed against the hardness of his muscular torso. That was my answer—it’s goddamned perfect.

  I felt his hands on my back, pressing me against him, and then those hands slid down to my waist. He took hold of the hem of my T-shirt and I raised my hands to let him slip it up over my head. Then he kissed me again, as if he could not bear even the few
seconds apart that undressing required, and I did the same for him, struggling a little to get his T-shirt over his outstretched hands as our lips clashed in a war of passion, tongues entwining and fighting for domination.

  I felt the heat of his eyes on my body, drinking in every curve, and I returned the favor, my gaze tracing a smoldering trail over the hard, delineated muscles, the washboard abs, and further down…

  Unable to wait any longer, I grabbed the waistband of his pants and knelt, pulling them down as I went. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted any man in my life, my desire now so potent that it seemed to have a cutting edge to it. For an inexplicable moment I even thought I might cry. With gentle hands, Liam drew me up and kissed me again, first on the mouth and then across my cheek and down my neck. As he did so he kicked off his shoes and socks. He was now naked against me, and the thought made my mouth go dry as another part of my body became decidedly wet.

  Still gentle, his hands surprisingly smooth, Liam lifted me, taking my weight with ease in his strong arms, and he sat me on the edge of the little announcer’s table. He kissed me yet again but I pressed him back—I wanted to see him.

  There was a lot to admire about Liam from a physical point of view—he kept in fantastic shape for his job, and genetics had taken care of the rest. And yet, what I found most appealing and instantly attractive in the perfect male specimen before me was not the chiseled muscles or other remarkable attributes, but the slight nervousness in his eyes. Liam Croft, who had been with so many women—so many models and actresses—still worried about disappointing me in some respect. Me!

  This was a Liam Croft that very few had ever seen. In fact, I wondered if I might be the first.

  I found myself eager to take the same step he had, to submit myself to his scrutiny as he had to mine; to be as nervous and worried but still comfortable in his silent presence. I reached behind my back and unclipped the clasp of my bra, removing it and letting my breasts spill free of the confines. Liam’s breath seemed suddenly audible, his arousal obvious in more ways than one. He came to me and brought his lips to mine, and I kissed and bit back at him in my feverish passion. His hands were on my hips now, searching for the waistband of my sweatpants, and I kicked off my shoes in readiness, keen for him to remove the final obstacle between us.