The Play (Briar U Book 3)

When I step out of the bathroom, Demi and Conor are still on the couch, but Matt and Andrea are gone. I’m not particularly thrilled about Demi and Con’s proximity to each other. She’s sitting so close to him she might as well be in his lap.

I can’t say anything, though, because I made my own position clear last week. I told her I just want to be friends. Which means, if she wants to flirt with my teammate, I’d be a real asshole to try to stop her. And I’d be a selfish team captain if I cock-blocked one of my guys.

That’s rule number five thousand, draft three of the captain handbook. Your teammate’s dick comes first.

Despite their blatant flirting, they don’t ask me to leave. And like a chump I don’t leave, despite the fact that I’m very noticeably the third wheel.

Conor murmurs something that makes Demi giggle.NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

I bristle. “What are you whispering about over there?”

“Nothing. Pass the bottle?” Con holds out his hand.

I look at Demi. Her cheeks are flushed, but whether it’s from too much alcohol consumption, I can’t be sure.

“It’s for me,” Con says knowingly.

I lean over to hand him the whiskey and he takes a swig directly from the bottle.

He hands it back to me, and I take a swig too. Maybe that’s what I need to do—get stupidly drunk. Because it’s inevitable that Demi will find her rebound tonight and if it’s not with Con I’ll eat my hat. And why not? Despite his ladies’ man reputation, I’ve never heard a single woman express she felt used by him or didn’t have a good time.

“So you guys have kissed,” Con says suddenly, his gray eyes fixing on me. “How’d that go?”

Phenomenally. “It was all right,” I say out loud.

Demi’s outraged gasp makes me smile. “Just all right? Fuck off, Monk. My kissing is more than all right. I’m an excellent kisser.” Her eyes dare me to defy her.

“She’s an excellent kisser,” I admit.

She beams at me. “And you want to do it again…?” she prompts.

“Nope.”

Conor snorts. “Damn, dude, you’re no good for a woman’s ego.”

“Trust me, her ego is doing just fine.”

“It is,” Demi confirms. “I’m very confident in my overall awesomeness as a person.”

“Yeah?” Conor has his arm around her now, while the fingertips of his other hand teasingly stroke her bare thigh.

Despite its long sleeves, Demi’s black dress is indecently short. I don’t remember her wearing it at the game. When did she have time to change?

It’s getting hard to breathe. I’m not drunk enough for this. And I’m definitely not drunk enough when Con’s hand slides upward, his knuckles grazing Demi’s right breast on the way to her neck. He starts stroking that, too.

Her breath hitches. “Did you just cop a feel?”

“No.” His tongue is caught between his teeth as he offers a lewd grin.

“You grazed my boob.”

“Yeah, a graze, not a feel.”

“Same thing. Right, Hunter?”

I don’t answer. My mouth is bone-dry. I remember making out with her in the club in Boston, how badly I’d wanted to cup her tits with both hands, tease my thumbs over her nipples until they were harder than icicles. But we were in public and I didn’t do it. And even in private, I still can’t do that.

Maybe watching Conor do it will provide me with some sort of satisfaction? Is secondhand boob-groping a thing?

But Con’s focus is no longer on Demi’s perfect tits. He lowers his mouth, and Demi squeaks in surprise.

I stiffen at the sight of his blond head buried in her neck. She, on the other hand, softens like warm butter. Her body practically melts into Con, and she even slants her head to grant him easier access to suck on her neck.

It’s no longer difficult to breathe—it’s impossible. Jealousy pounds a steady drumbeat in my blood. But so does arousal. I should get up and leave, ASAP. Anything short of that is self-torture.

But my ass remains glued to the couch cushion.

Conor lifts his head, his eyelids heavy with lust. “I want to kiss you,” he whispers to Demi, who inhales deeply.

I curl my fingers over my knee to stop them from clenching into a fist.

Con flicks me a brief look, winks, and then lowers his mouth to Demi’s.

Motherfucker.

She welcomes the kiss, parting her lips for him, and I almost curse out loud when I see his tongue enter her mouth.

I grit my teeth. Finally finding my voice. “I’m just gonna go…”

Demi breaks the kiss and plants her hand on my thigh. “Stay.”

Oh sweet Jesus. Yeah, there’s definitely no oxygen in this room anymore. “Nah,” I grind out. “I feel like you guys might need some privacy.”

Conor licks his bottom lip. “When you were in the can, I was telling Demi about that time you walked in on me getting sucked off. She said it was the hottest thing she’d ever heard.”

I glance sharply at Demi, whose lips curve seductively. “The hottest,” she says in a throaty voice. “Why didn’t you join them?”

“That’s what I said!” Con nuzzles her neck again. I know the moment he sucks on her flesh, because she gasps in delight.

When he raises his head again, he quirks up an eyebrow and his gaze locks with mine, as if to say, I’m down for anything. How about you?

I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling. I know that I’m hard as a rock and that I shouldn’t be.

I know that Demi is threading her fingers through Conor’s shoulder-length hair and pulling on the blond strands to tug him forward.

I know that when I see their tongues touch, I want to rip his out of his mouth and wear it around my neck like a war trophy while I fuck Demi right in front of him.

And that’s when I snap. The scorching jealousy in my blood rivals the primal need flooding my body. I snarl like a territorial dog and jump to my feet, forcibly pulling Demi up with me.

“Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope.”

Her eyes widen. “What the hell!”

Conor merely chuckles.

“We’re leaving,” I bark at her, as my pulse careens and my breaths come out ragged.

“But—”

I silence her protest with a growl. “You want your rebound? I’ll give you your fucking rebound. Let’s go.”