Striker. Michelle Betham
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and run a hand through his dark hair before walking up the driveway to her front door with the kind of swagger only a man so young, famous and full of attitude could get away with.
Amber quickly backed away from the window and leaned back against the wall, the sound of the doorbell causing her heart to beat so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest at any second. Oh, Jesus, this was ridiculous! What the hell was she thinking? She was eleven years older than him, this young and volatile footballer with a reputation for excess but a talent that meant he was popular for all the right reasons, as well as all the wrong ones. She shouldn’t be going anywhere near him; it was crazy and stupid, and probably a touch unprofessional, too.
She closed her eyes as the doorbell rang out again. She’d let him in, and she’d tell him. Decision made. This wasn’t going to happen. She’d let him in, he could stay for a drink, but then he had to go because this wasn’t going to happen. No matter what Ronnie had said or thought, and even if he was right, even if she did fancy him, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. Not after everything she’d been through in the past – she’d be really stupid to go there again, wouldn’t she?
Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath and walked out into the hall, exhaling quietly one last time before slowly opening the door.
‘About time,’ Ryan smiled. ‘You gonna let me in, then?’
Amber just looked at him for a few seconds, aware only of how incredible he looked in a simple yet undoubtedly obscenely expensive outfit of jeans, white t-shirt and black boots; and with that sexy dark hair and those deep-blue eyes shining out of that handsome face of his, he looked hot. There was no two ways about it. He looked hot, and Amber felt a warm flush spread right through her as she stood aside to let him in, her head spinning again as her heart began overruling her head. Something she hadn’t wanted to happen.
‘Go… go through to the living room,’ she managed to say, acutely aware that her voice may have sounded slightly strange there. More high-pitched than it normally did.
‘Champagne,’ Ryan grinned, handing her a bottle of something Amber recognised as certainly not the cheap stuff. A bit predictable, maybe, but at least he’d brought something. It proved he had manners, anyhow, even if he probably wasn’t going to be around long enough to actually drink much of it. ‘Predictable, I know, but I didn’t want to turn up empty-handed.’
Amber looked at him, and suddenly the pair of them just burst out laughing. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Amber said. ‘But, yeah. Footballers and flash bottles of champagne are a touch on the stereotypical side, I suppose.’
Ryan shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets, and for the briefest of seconds Amber was certain she saw a slight flash of vulnerability cross his face. But that only made him seem all the more attractive, unfortunately.
‘You look great, by the way,’ Ryan said quietly, his dark blue eyes locking onto hers. ‘I forgot to tell you that, when you opened the door.’
Amber felt an uncharacteristic blush heat her cheeks and she looked down at her feet for a second or two, feeling like a shy teenager on a first date instead of the strong, independent woman she was. Or thought she was. It was all a bit confusing, but before she could even begin to get her head around just what was supposed to be happening here, she felt him prise the bottle of champagne out of her hand, place it on the table beside them and gently touch her face with his fingertips. She looked up at him as she asked probably the most obvious question ever. ‘What are you doing?’
He pulled away slightly, taking a small step back, and she couldn’t stop the stab of disappointment from happening. ‘Amber, I…’
‘You couldn’t stand me a couple of days ago,’ she said, aware of the tension building and the fight she was now going to have, to stop the excitement rising up in her.
‘You couldn’t stand me, either,’ he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth and Amber couldn’t help but smile back. This wasn’t going quite to plan, although, that all depended on which plan she was talking about – the original plan, or the change of plan. And she wasn’t entirely sure herself.
‘No. I couldn’t,’ she said. ‘I thought you were the most arrogant, self-centred, egotistical prick I’d ever set eyes on.’
He moved a little closer, his hands back in his pockets but his eyes locked onto hers. ‘And I thought you were a cold, uptight bitch.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Yeah. Really.’
He moved closer still, and Amber felt her resolve fading fast, but she was ceasing to care. That glass of red wine she’d had just minutes ago was starting to have an effect, and it felt good. She felt good. So she really didn’t care anymore. He was hot, she felt like having some fun, what was the problem? Well, there was probably a list longer than a ten-mile tailback on the central motorway as far as problems were concerned, but she’d deal with those in the morning. Right now, she wasn’t going to think about them.
‘So, I’m cold, am I?’
‘A regular fucking ice-queen. But you’re no match for this arrogant prick, sweetheart.’
Amber couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this excited about anything. Sure, she’d had sex with Ronnie only last night, but that was different. That had been nothing but an act carried out only to, temporarily at least, stop her thinking about this man standing here in front of her. No other reason. Compared to what she was feeling now that had been almost mechanical in comparison. A paint-by-numbers act of sexual release. This was something else.
‘Oh, I think this ice-queen can take on the arrogant prick any time.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so.’
She felt herself burning up, the heat from his body making her head spin. He was so close now she could feel the electricity practically fizzing between them. One glass of wine couldn’t be having that much effect, surely, could it?
And then, before she had a chance to draw another breath, his hand was in the small of her back, pushing her against him, his mouth covering hers in a hard, fast kiss that took her completely by surprise for some reason. Considering it had obviously been building up to that for the past few seconds. But it didn’t take long for her to lose what few inhibitions she had left, falling against him as the kiss got deeper and harder, the taste of him overwhelming her with feelings she’d kept repressed for so long that even sleeping with Ronnie last night hadn’t managed to quell them.
It was like the release she’d been waiting for ever since she’d set eyes on him just a couple of days ago. The sexual tension that had been building ever since that initial interview was now being allowed to come to the forefront, cut itself loose, and as Ryan pushed her down onto the sofa, his fingers pushing her dress up over her thighs, hurriedly pulling down her underwear and discarding it like unwanted rubbish, she felt unusually liberated. Maybe she had been uptight for too long. Nobody could accuse her of that now, though, could they?
Stretching her arms up above her, she closed her eyes as he slid her dress up over her head, removing her bra in one swift movement, his mouth immediately lowering down to cover one of her breasts. It was a strangely warm and comforting feeling, and Amber arched her back, her arms still up above her head, almost pushing herself at him, but hey, she was in this too deep now, wasn’t she? It was a bit late to hit the reverse button. But, oh, it felt so good, so fucking good as his fingers stroked her naked skin, running over her thighs, up to her breasts, every touch sending a million tiny tingles coursing through her entire body.
And that feeling ended only briefly whilst he discarded his own clothes, and Amber watched as that young, toned, incredibly fit body became visible in front of her, in all its naked glory. No wonder the women fell at his feet. He wasn’t even her usual type – she never had gone for the six-pack and bicep brigade before – but there was something about this man that was making