Playing Around

Book 0: The Scarlet Series

by Toria Lyons

Genres: Women's Fiction

Synopsis

Following hot on the heels of Playing For Keeps comes Playing Around, the second book in the racy Scarlet series.



Rugby fanatic Clare has spent her life focusing on herself and her career. When the undeniably charismatic Alex Prince sets his sights on her, she?s sure it?s only to add to the number of ever-growing notches on his bedpost and vows to keep herself away, despite her attraction. Alex has other plans, and when he admits he needs her help in securing a family inheritance, he makes her an offer she can?t refuse. Suddenly, Clare finds herself caught up in more than she can handle ? and that includes meeting the extended Prince family.  



Clare reassures herself it?s just a business transaction, but sparks fly between them ? and wonders, is there more to lose than what?s just on the surface?

Release date: January 1, 1698

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 256

Sample

Clare really loved having a proper lie-in, tucked under the deliciously warm sheets when the bedroom air was cool and refreshing. Her head resting on a soft squashy pillow, the dawn chorus as background music while she dozed. She couldn’t think of anything nicer.

Rolling over onto her back, she stretched luxuriously across the double bed, the linen sheets moving softly across her naked body.

Naked body? No nightgown?

One of her feet touched something which definitely wasn’t sheet. Something which felt . . . a little like a hairy, masculine leg.

Huh?

She shot upright.

Oh. Shit. Alex Prince! Bloody hell! What have I done?

Clare froze, afraid to confirm what her memory and senses were telling her. She squeezed her eyes shut, which didn’t halt the show reel of vivid images flashing through her head. The wedding. The reception. Sitting on the top table with Alex, the best man. Drinking champagne. Finally relaxing into his arms during a dance. Resistance waning and exchanging of sizzling glances. Their joint urgency to get to her room. Alex stripping her out of the bridesmaid dress. Rolling around together on the double bed. Crying out in ecstasy as he plunged between her legs. Riding on top of him, arching her back as her whole body surfed a wave of bliss.

She couldn’t even blame the alcohol; she’d only had a few glasses. OK, it was champagne and she was more used to spirits and ale but still, a lot less than a typical night out.

Alex Prince! The biggest tart in Scotland. No, Britain. Europe, even. Shit.

Slowly she opened her eyes and cautiously turned her head towards the intruder in her bed. His body was facing her, lying on his side. His side of the sheets had fallen away from his torso and she drank in the gorgeous sight of his bare, golden chest, the strong, lithe muscles lining his chest, the smattering of hair between his small brown nipples, trailing down to . . . she licked her lips as she remembered more intimate parts from the previous night.

‘Morning.’

Her eyes shot up to meet his laughing, chocolate-brown eyes, partially obscured by his tousled blond hair.

Clare squeaked and catapulted out of the bed onto the thick carpet, landing on her backside and remembering too late that she was completely naked. She tried to cover her curvy body with her hands.

‘Look away!’

‘Why should I?’ Alex grinned salaciously, leaning over the bed to look down at her, his eyes bright and his Scottish burr thicker than usual. ‘I saw it all last night, and enjoyed it.’

Clare yelped, grabbing a stray pillow and throwing it in the direction of his taunting voice. Luckily, her nightgown was under the pillow. She pulled the silky slip on over her head and stood up while he lay back and laughed.

‘Stop that!’ Clare only just resisted the urge to stamp a sulky foot.

‘Why should I? I’ve woken up with a luscious lady who, despite writhing naked in bed with me for most of last night, has suddenly developed a shyness for displaying her gorgeous body.’

He lay back against the pillows, eyes twinkling with mirth – and something else. The sheets had fallen from his hips and Clare struggled to not gawp at him, at what had given her so much pleasure throughout the night.

‘I don’t mind you looking at me. Standing with your back to the light means I can still see all of you.’

Clare shrieked in frustration and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her and firmly locking it, to the echoes of his laughter. She could still feel him on her skin, so she turned the shower in the bath on and stripped the flimsy nightgown off. The water was only just warming up, the shock of the cool spray calmed her down and helped to clear her head.

‘Oh, what have I done?’ Clare castigated herself, closing her eyes and resting her back against the cool wall. She knocked her head against it once, twice. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Fuck.’

‘But fun.’

Clare jumped again. ‘How did you get in? Get out! Shoo!’

Alex leant against the door, watching bemusedly as Clare tried to futilely hide under the warming shower spray and behind the translucent glass screen. His toned, athletic body looked relaxed, apart from a growing tumescence between his legs.

‘I tripped the lock. Did you know that Sarah and Tom’s first time was in a shower?’ He rubbed his flat, muscled stomach with one hand, the fingers stretching down towards . . .

Clare tore her eyes away. ‘Of course I do – did. But I’m not . . .’

‘We are.’ Alex prowled towards her and stepped into the bath. She tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go and Alex just pressed her into the bathroom wall with his body. ‘I can’t think of a better way to use this morning glory than on you.’

‘M – morning glory?’ Clare was losing concentration as Alex gyrated against her. She tried to push him away with weakening arms.

‘A dawn sabre. Morning wood. An erection when men wake up. Which is best relieved with a beautiful woman.’ He began licking and kissing the sensitive skin of her neck, nibbling and sucking on her collar bone.

Clare struggled to stop her legs from giving way. ‘Well, I don’t know where you’re going to find one at this late not –’

‘I have one right here,’ interrupted Alex, ‘whether she admits it or not. She’s right on board with me.’ The palms of his hands covered her breasts with a light squeeze and his fingers began tracing the nipples and the sensitive undersides, something he’d discovered the previous night that also made her melt.

Clare’s arms weren’t pushing him away any more, she was clutching at him as he pressed closer to her, almost inside her. She whimpered, her eyes losing focus but her mind still fighting the attraction, ‘You bastard, prove you’re not all mouth.’

‘I think I did that last night, but I can do it again. You loved my mouth. I enjoyed yours too. We really should have done this months ago.’

‘Shut up and kiss me.’

‘I’ll do more than just kiss.’

Clare Williams had fallen in lust with Alex Prince the moment she first saw him running out to play for Harford Park RFC. She’d had a few steamy relationships before, but no man by his presence alone had ever made every cell in her body come alive. Unfortunately, she soon learnt that she wasn’t the only woman who felt the attraction; his looks coupled with a hint of a bone-melting Scottish accent meant girls buzzed around him like flies around honey.

He was tall for a scrum-half, but his personality was perfectly suited for niggling at the players, bossing them around and winding up the opposition. He was just as wicked at winding her up, frustrating her, making risqué comments out of anyone else’s hearing. Paralysed with lust for him as she often was, she couldn’t respond in her natural, light-hearted manner; instead she either stayed silent or opened her mouth to say something imbecilic.

Clare knew she wasn’t like his usual women. Her hair, without its current highlights, was a muddy dark blonde. Her body was normal sized, with generous breasts and hips which refused to get any smaller despite hours spent in the gym after work. He was mostly seen with model-types; lithe, slim, and stunning scantily dressed women.

They had absolutely nothing in common. He’d gone to public school, she’d attended a local comprehensive. He came from a large Scottish family; they cheered him on at some of the northerly away games. She had no family to fall back on; she’d pulled herself up by her bootstraps to graduate from university, to get on the career ladder, only to be stuck in a dead-end civil service job. From what she’d heard, he’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth – he didn’t have to rely on income from playing second-tier professional rugby. He was intelligent, really bright, which made her feel stupid and slow next to him.

All in all, he was in a different league. So, how they ended up in bed together, she didn’t quite know. Well, OK, she did, her best friend Sarah Evans had just married his best friend Tom Murray in a fairytale Scottish castle. Clare had been her bridesmaid; she’d known Sarah for several years through the rugby club and had been present at the couple’s fiery reunion the previous autumn. Alex had arrived at the same time; they had met him just after the first match he’d played for Harford.

Clare watched the new scrum-half walk into the clubhouse, bag slung casually over his shoulder. As he glanced around to take stock of the crowded club, he caught her eye and smiled. She managed to upturn her lips in response, even though she felt poleaxed by the thrills of sensation darting through her body. She had watched him earlier on the pitch thinking what a good signing he would be and how attractive he was, but in close quarters, when he had walked into the club, her feelings rapidly burgeoned into something deeper.

A few seconds later, he came towards her and Clare greeted him effusively, ‘Great try today, Alex. How are you enjoying the new club?’ How she had managed that, she’d no idea; her whole body was screaming, it’s him, it’s him. He’s The One.

‘Thanks, it was nice to have a run. The forwards did all the hard work though. It’s a good set-up here.’

His bemused eyes ran over her and she sucked in her somersaulting stomach, wishing she had started her diet several months earlier. The soft Scottish burr melted her remaining composure. ‘Ooh, a bonny Scotsman.’

Alex’s smile froze slightly and Clare felt a heated wave of embarrassment break over her. She babbled out introductions as she scrambled for something interesting to say, ‘Err, by the way this is Sarah. I’m Clare. Sarah’s the secretary for the volunteers’ committee. She’s also an ultra-efficient executive in the week. I’m just a civil servant.’

‘A pleasure to meet you both.’ He formally held out his hand.

When Clare touched him, even though it was barely the skin of his warm, strong hand, the contact zipped through her body and weakened her knees.

Sarah excused herself to go to the loo and in those few seconds, Clare managed to recover slightly. ‘So, I noticed you did a couple of dive passes, I haven’t seen them for a while.’ There, that was OK; a semi-intelligent question about being a scrum-half.

Alex laughed slightly in return, ‘I had an old-school coach, and it’s a quicker way to get the ball out compared to a normal step-and-pass. However it does mean it takes longer to get to the next breakdown.’

As Alex answered her queries and expounded slightly, Clare tamped her nerves down, trying to regain her practised equilibrium. She absorbed him with her eyes, committing him to memory – his strong profile, and those large, chocolate brown eyes, half hidden at times by the collar-length tousled blond hair. Elegant hands he used to demonstrate several points while wild scenarios of him having those hands on her yearning body ran through her head. She’d never felt this immediate need for someone before; her previous boyfriends and lovers had been friends first and attraction had grown over time.

‘So, what brings you down to Harford from Scotland?’

Alex looked away for a moment, ‘I heard my friend Tom was moving here and fancied a change of scenery.’

Clare wasn’t sure if she’d imagined his discomfort. ‘Someone said you’d broken your leg . . .’ she trailed off.

‘Aye, ’twas a nasty one, the pins had me out for a while.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m a bit long in the tooth now for top level rugby and not as quick.’

‘Too old in your late twenties?’ remarked Clare incredulously.

Alex simply shrugged. ‘There are lads over ten years younger coming through into the national squads now. I’ll play a few more years and then retire to my Scottish castle.’

Clare wasn’t sure if he was joking about the castle; there was a twinkle in his eyes, so she decided to change the topic. ‘You’re not your typical small scrum-half,’ she observed. The earlier match had shown Alex was nearly as big and powerful as the hard-running centres; he could break tackles and charge like an extra forward as well as burrowing into the mass of bodies at the breakdown to fetch recalcitrant balls.

‘It’s always been my position, I like being involved in play. So, you’re a civil servant. Which department?’

She realised she hadn’t been concentrating on what he was saying, just listening to the words roll over her. Like she’d want his hands over her . . . ‘Oh, I’m . . .’ Clare faltered. With relief she saw Sarah returning.

Her brunette friend covered the gap in conversation. ‘So, you said you knew the other new chap, Tom Murray?’

‘Yeah, I was at school with him years ago.’

As Alex expounded on his school connection, Clare tried to calm her breathing. She had limited success, just nodding and smiling along with Sarah.

Tom arrived seconds later, and Clare and Alex were front row spectators to his fiery re-acquaintance with Sarah, who had unfinished business with him from university days. After the sizzling confrontation, the men excused themselves to attend to club business and Clare had prised the background out of her reticent friend.

Shortly after, they had watched as glamorously dressed women surrounded Alex. He hadn’t looked back at Clare, obviously her burgeoning emotions hadn’t been reciprocated. His hand went to hold one girl by her tiny rear and Clare felt a knife slide smoothly into her already-wounded heart. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time a player she’d liked had made his preferences for the slimmer, more alluring female known.

So, Alex had started on his path through the beauties of the club, and Clare had written off the prospect of ever being anything to him apart from a target to wind up every week.

Alex being a good friend of Tom’s meant they were often in the same social groups, or at least in the vicinity. Twice had they been in close physical contact, the first time outside the club when she was attempting to stop him from gossiping about Sarah and Tom. He’d extracted a kiss from her as payment. Well, she’d carefully kissed him first, then he’d kissed her back and she’d gone up in flames. He was the one who had stopped, who’d been able to pull back and end the steamy kiss. And within minutes he’d been flirting with another woman while she was still reeling from the most intense sensual experience she’d ever had.

Once Sarah and Tom had made up and officially became a couple, Clare and Alex would often be paired up as the two singles. She had several photos of Alex grinning with a hand around her waist or shoulders while she smiled stiffly and tried to ignore his saucy running commentary, or bat away his mischievous hands. At one stage, they had supposedly declared a truce only for Alex to pinch her arse the next weekend. She retaliated with a sound slap across his cheek followed by a swift escape before he could take revenge.

Shortly after Sarah and Tom got engaged, Clare had arranged to meet Sarah at the Harford Park clubhouse one evening for Clare to hand over some mail and discuss her wedding plans. However, Clare hadn’t planned on bumping into Alex while she was there . . .

The club was deserted apart from Jim the barman polishing glasses while reading a tabloid paper. When she’d said she was meeting Sarah, he’d waved her through to the occasion rooms. She was a bit early – she’d come straight from work – but there was no sign of her friend in the patron’s bar or in the room the volunteers often used for their monthly meeting. Most of the lights were off, leaving shadowy doorways and darkened rooms; it was like a rabbit warren down there.

‘Sarah?’ She heard a noise and continued down an unlit corridor towards it. ‘Are you here? Hello?’

‘Boo.’ The mocking voice sounded from the darkness in front of her.

Clare collided with something and squeaked, her heart in her mouth. She peered into the darkness to see Alex grinning at her. ‘Don’t do that to me, you nearly gave me heart failure.’ Her hand went to cover the thrumming in her chest. ‘I thought you players all trained earlier in the day?’

‘I missed the earlier fitness training, I had personal things to sort out. So did Tom. We did an extra weights session as punishment.’

Clare surreptitiously started backing away from Alex, back towards the exit and lights. ‘Sorry to disturb you, I’ll just wait for Sarah in the bar.’

‘She may be some time, when I left them Sarah was giving Tom a massage on his knee and now . . .’ Alex cocked his head to one side and above running water, they both heard the sound of a distant feminine giggle and a masculine groan. ‘Now, I think they’re christening the showers.’ Slinging his bag over his shoulder he prowled towards her. ‘You could give me a hand with something.’

Clare blushed as her imagination ran riot. She craved to be the one moaning in his arms. She backed into the brighter hallway where she noticed that his hair was still wet and his T-shirt clung damply to his toned chest. Her fingers itched to touch him, ‘Oh, I can’t. I’ve got to go.’ She clutched her handbag across her chest as protection. ‘We’ll do it another time.’

‘Will we? I may hold you to that?’ Alex smirked at her.

‘I meant Sarah and I would . . . never mind.’ Clare blushed again as a picture came to her of them wrapped together.

‘You blush rather fetchingly. But all I want you to do is clean a scrape for me. I can’t reach it.’

Clare’s gaze was drawn to first aid items he pulled out of his bag. ‘OK. Not a problem. Where?’

He pulled his T-shirt over his head and she nearly swooned as Alex's ripped torso was revealed. There were livid stud marks trailing around his ribs which only emphasised the male perfection of his chest with its light dusting of hair in the centre. Her breath grew shorter. He passed her some wipes and turned around to show some reddened grazes extending down his well-defined spine.

‘My back, if you could clean out any dirt where the skin is broken, please?’

Clare took a deep breath to quell the butterflies dancing around her body, and raised her hand to follow his instructions. She couldn’t quite see well enough, ‘Hang on, I need more light.’

She placed her free hand on the warm skin at his waist, turning him towards the starker overhead lights. Most of the damage was superficial, just irritated skin, but there were a couple of places where dark specks of dirt had lodged into his skin. She looked closer, and as her breath brushed his caramel skin with the first swab, Alex flinched.

‘That didn't hurt, did it?’ quivered Clare. She really didn’t want to clumsily hurt him.

‘No, I just wasn't expecting it.’ His voice was hoarse, the teasing note gone.

‘How did you get these?’ She continued gently swabbing the skin, working out the embedded bits of grit as she ignored the heat building between her legs.

‘During the mauling and rucking practice, one of the forwards fell and took me down. The rest piled over and some studs caught me.’ He hissed as she drew him closer to her to treat the hollow of his spine.

‘Sorry.’ Clare continued with the cleaning. With difficulty, she prevented her fingers at his waist from caressing his firm muscles. Following the vivid lines along his side, her free hand shifted to lift his arm out of the way. He tucked the powerful limb over his head, displaying a soft tuft of light brown underarm hair. She refused to let her legs melt at the display, even though the warm, clean scent of him was permeating her lungs. He was just so, so gorgeously male.

As she peered at the end of the last gouge, she thought she could feel his eyes burning into her. She blinked. Luckily there was nothing else left to clean away. ‘There, finished. You can put your top back on now.’

Alex nodded, lowering his lifted arm as he stared at her.

She couldn’t read what was in his darkened eyes and started edging away from his overwhelming masculinity. ‘There, you can put your top back on now.’

‘You’ve already said that.’

‘Oh.’ Clare stared down at her hands, surprised to see she still held the wipes in her trembling hands. She crumpled up the used ones and held them out for him to take, keeping her head down and not looking at him. ‘I’d better be going.’

‘Would you like a quick drink as a thank you?’

‘No thanks.’ Clare hastened away, fighting the urge to look back.

‘Ta-ra then.’

Clare didn’t answer. She had to get away from him. She ducked into the ladies loo, where the strip lights flickered on. Her gaze was caught by the mirror above the sink. Her hair was a mess, her make-up almost nonexistent after a day of work, her white shirt looked grubby in the harsh light, and her navy skirt suit crumpled unflatteringly. However, her eyes were sparkling, revealing the excitement still twisting in her stomach.

She batted off a text to Sarah, ask. . .