Page 57 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

He sits up, one hand gripping my waist harder while the other slides around my chest until it rests at the base of my throat.

It’s the sexiest, most possessive move in his arsenal, and I turn to putty for it every goddamn time.

But especially when it’s paired with the filthy praises falling from his lips.

Fuck yes, baby.

So fucking perfect.

So fucking mine.

The last one nearly has me coming undone, because I’ve never believed anything to be more true. Every piece of me—mind, body, and soul—belongs to Madden Hastings.

And fuck, if he doesn’t belong to me too.

Soft pants and sighs fill the air around us, creating a chorus with the slick sound of our bodies crashing into one another. Every time the head swipes over my prostate, I have to turn my face into my bicep and clamp my teeth down on my shirt to refrain from moaning like a porn star.

“I’m close, Mads.”

He hums. “Then come for me. Let me feel you clamp around my cock.”

His grip flexes at the base of my throat, arm tightening over my chest as his thrusts become punishingly vigorous.

He snaps his hips up into me like he’s trying to split me in half from the inside out, and it’s the most torturous kind of pleasure, drawing moans and whimpers from the back of my throat while I struggle to stay quiet.

My hand is moving over my length at hyperspeed now, my eyes squeezed shut as I feel every part of my body being lit ablaze.

Every nerve ending is buzzing with electricity, especially the one he keeps swiping over with the head of his cock.

Over and over and over again, he pegs that little pleasure button until I can’t hold on any longer.

My climax slams into me like a sledgehammer, and Madden’s hand covers my mouth just in time to stop me from shouting out.

I bear down on his cock, cum shooting from my own, coating my fingers and spilling onto the carpet beneath my feet.

He doesn’t stop, though, thrusting into me with reckless abandon until I’m wrung dry and slumping against him, unable to keep my weight up any longer.

His hand falls away from my mouth, returning to my hips as he chases his own release, using my body for his pleasure. And all the while, my fingertips trace a languid path to his neck before turning my head to find his lips.

We move together like that; a volatile explosion and innocent caresses all in one. A collision of two things that don’t belong together yet somehow fit perfectly. As if they were the only piece capable of filling the space the other was missing.

It’s the only way I can describe this all-consuming desire searing me to the bone—turning me to a pile of ash on the spot. It goes as far as burning the rest of the world away until all that’s left is me, and him, and this, and us.

And as he comes, flooding me with his release and claiming me for the first time, I want nothing more than to bask in the flames.

The two of us clean up my mess as best we can after redressing and straightening our clothes in record time. My pulse thrums beneath my skin, beating a mile a minute as I still come down from the high, both of the orgasm, but also the thrill of what we just did.

“You forgot something,” Madden says, cutting through my blissed- out state.

I frown, scanning the ground for anything I might’ve dropped while we were busy screwing around like two sex-crazed idiots. But then I look up to find Madden leaning against the wall next to the Blackmore pennant, pinching the edge of the fabric between his thumb and index finger.

Earlier, he’d told me it was mine, and while I took it at face value in the moment, something still feels off about it now. Not that I think he’s lying; I can tell by his expression right now, he meant it.

It just doesn’t feel right to accept it.

“But what about the rules?” I ask slowly, hoping it might be enough for him to rescind his offer.

Because I’m not just talking about the Penny Play rules, but the rules we made. The one where we said we weren’t getting involved, because it wasn’t worth risking what’s happening between us. The line we put in place that…I’m already guilty of obliterating.

He shakes his head, a little laugh slipping out. “I’ve broken all my rules for you, Theo. What’s one more?”

That’s just it, isn’t it? Why this feels so wrong.

He’s given me so much over the past few months. His time, his energy, his patience. His forgiveness time and time again, despite me not deserving it.

I can’t take this too.

Shaking my head, I step back, away from the object of my desires—the thing I want more than anything. Which I realize now, isn’t the stupid piece of fabric on the wall.

It’s him.

There are moments I still hardly understand it, especially with how the odds are stacked against us. They’re piled higher than the skyscrapers in downtown Chicago. But right now, it’s as if they don’t exist .

The way I feel about him transcends all else.

What Oakley reminded me of only a few short weeks ago—the same advice he gave Holden last year—comes barreling back into my mind, becoming the only thought I’m capable of making.

“When it’s your forever on the line, all the codes and rules go right out the damn window.”

Every obstacle or circumstance that stands in our way—our history, our parents, the rivalry—none of it matters.

Not if it keeps me from having him. So even though my teammates will kill me for what I’m about to do, I don’t care.

Because I love him, and I’d rather have him a thousand times over than win some damn rivalry game.

“No,” I tell him softly. “I don’t want it.”

There’s a beat before he lets out a long exhale. “Theo, c’mon.”

“I’m serious. Leave it there or hide it somewhere else. Either way, I’m not taking it.”

To further prove my point, I start toward the door, but it requires me to walk past him—and the stupid thing on the wall. Which would be fine if he didn’t hold his hand out to stop me, pressing it to my chest before I make it through the exit.

My gaze slides to him, finding him staring at me, dumbfounded, before raking his fingers through his hair.

“God, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Do you know that?”

I blink at him, not sure where the frustration is coming from, and I can’t stop myself from biting back, “Yeah, you’ve said that once or twice.”

Pushing past his hand, I make my way down the steps and out the front door of the theatre. I’m halfway to my Bronco when I hear the door slam open, and a glance over my shoulder reveals him stalking across the parking lot after me.

I dig in my pocket for my keys as I approach, only to realize…I gave them to Madden. Which leaves me to wait for him at the back of my car, hand held open for him to return them.

Of course, when he reaches me, he chooses to walk clear past my outstretched hand and head to the driver’s side.

“And I’m the stubborn one,” I mutter under my breath as I yank the passenger door open.

I’m barely in the seat when orange and black fabric hits me square in the face. It only takes a few seconds to realize what it is, though I’m not sure how I missed him carrying it—probably from being too focused on my keys. Regardless, it sets my blood to a boil when I toss it back in his lap.

“What the hell, Madden! Take it back inside.”

He doesn’t listen, though. Instead, he throws it back in my direction and starts the car, peeling out of the parking lot and onto the street without uttering a word.

I’m not sure where he’s taking us, and I don’t ask either. I’m too pissed to speak, which is a feeling I never thought I’d have while holding this stupid piece of fabric in my hands.

We’re cruising down the road for a few minutes, the irritation emanating from us filling the car’s interior with a cloud of toxic gas. It’s suffocating, and I don’t know how much longer I can stand it when he finally breaks the silence with three ground-out words.

“You’re keeping it.”

I scoff and shoot him a glare. “I will throw this thing out the fucking window before I keep it, Madden.”

To further prove my point, I go to roll the window down, but the asshole hits the childlock before I have the chance. So I do the next best thing: pressing the pennant firmly against his chest and holding it there, only for him to knock my hand away with fury.

“Theo, I’m driving. Would you just take the damn thing?”

“Or you could stop trying to force me to keep it.”

His returning glare is made of ice when he growls out, “I can’t hide it again, it’s against the rules. You and I both know that.”

“No one else would know if you did it,” I point out.

“It doesn’t matter. I would know.”

“Then why did you take me there in the first place?” I scoff, tossing the pennant onto his dashboard. I can’t touch the stupid thing another second longer. “And if it doesn’t mean anything to y—”

“ You mean something to me, Theo. You do.” The words come out with a bite of anger, of barely-contained rage, before he glares daggers at the pennant.

“That’s why I made the rule about the Penny Play to begin with.

Because, you’re right. That fucking thing?

I don’t give two shits about it. But you do, okay?

And that’s fine. So take it back to your teammates and put an end to this.

Because the longer it’s in my possession, the longer it serves as a fucking reminder of why you won’t be with me. ”

Despite the anger and frustration evident in his tone, his voice cracks on the last few words. It’s nearly imperceptible, and if I wasn’t hanging on every single syllable leaving his lips, I wouldn’t have caught it. Not the splintering of his composure, nor the subtlety in his word choice.

Because he said won’t, not can’t.

I won’t be with him.

As if implying there is a choice; a decision between one thing and another—o ver another.

I slowly reach out for the pennant before holding it up between us, my voice coming out as barely more than a whisper .

“You think I’d choose this over you?”

There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes when he glances at me before returning his attention to the road. He doesn’t even try to hide it, and I think that breaks me even more.

“Haven’t you already?” he asks, voice grated and raw. “Is the rivalry not the reason why none of your friends know about me? Why I have to sneak into the townhouse through your bedroom window?”

“That’s why I come to your house instead now. So we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

I catch his fingers tightening around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white when he mutters, “You’re missing the point.”

“Then what is it?”

“That I’m tired of hiding. I keep choosing you, breaking my rules for you, putting you first. Hell, I’m risking my mom’s happiness, for you. ”

“And why do you think I don’t want it?” I shout, damn near at my wits end. “How else can I prove to you that you matter more to me? That what I told you after the game is true. That this is real.”

“I know it’s real. I see it every time you look at me.”

“Then why—”

“Because I love you, okay? God, I thought that’d be fucking obvious.

” A soft, exasperated laugh leaves him, and he shakes his head.

“I love you so much, sometimes I fucking hate you for it—for making me fall to the point where I’d abandon everything else for you.

Because I would. I’d sell my team out and give you the pennant.

I’d hand my soul over to Hades himself if it made you smile.

” He licks his lips and releases a resounding sigh.

“You’re the one I’d turn around for, Theo. Over and over again.”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, instantly pulling me back to the conversation we’d had earlier. About Orpheus and trust and love. About what it means to turn around—because that’s what loving someone is.

And just like that, I understand what he’s trying to do.

“Can you say something, please?” he asks, breaking the silence I’ve let linger for too long.

I turn to look at him—at this man I never knew I needed—and I know I feel the same. In my heart of hearts, I know I’d go to the ends of the Earth for him, and that includes betraying my team. There’s no other alternative.

I couldn’t live with myself if I betrayed my heart.

But when I go to speak, to tell him I love him too, I don’t hear the words. My lips move, but where my voice should be, there’s another sound entirely. A symphony of car horns, squealing tires, and glass shattering before the crunching of metal on metal steals the breath from my lungs.

And the emotion glowing there in Madden’s eyes? It’s not love—not anymore. It’s horror.

That’s the last thing I see before the world goes black.