Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance) Read Online Free

at Jason Powell coolly and drain my drink. He does the same. Dee gulps hers down, and I slap my glass on the table.
    "More."
    "Ana," Dee says, her voice rising.
    I look at her. The world only wobbles a little. "Do you think I'm a child? I need four drinks before I'm ready to even finger dance."
    "I have no idea what that is, but I think I want to try it," Jason says with a grin.
    "No you don't, little man. Are we here to drink or talk?"
    "Another round," he yells.
    The second drink goes down a bit harder. The third goes down a bit easier.
    "So," Jason says, obviously trying to keep his voice from drunken wavering, "What's the whole princess thing like. Do you have a castle and shit?"
    I turn up my chin.
    "Stop doing the chin thing," Dee sighs, leaning over the table.
    "I don't want to talk about castles. I want to dance."
    I half shove Dee out of the way and stride back out onto the floor, my hips swaying heavily from side to side. Jason comes up right up behind me, his back pressed to mine. I wiggle my hips and glance over my shoulder at him, grinning.
    He is very handsome. When he touches my shoulders, a shiver goes down my spine.
    Dee watches us the entire time, paying little attention to her dance partners. Jason seems a gentleman to me; I do not know why she is so worried. Besides, I can handle myself. I am not that kind of princess.
    I turn around and face him. The song is not a slow song, but our dance becomes a slow dance.
    "Can I ask you something?" he says, grasping my hips.
    I rest my arms on his massive shoulders.
    "You mean, can you ask me something else."
    "Yeah."
    "No. Just dance."
    "If I told you that you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
    "Do you think I'm a…." I search for the word. "A bimbo?"
    "Why would you say that?"
    "Because you think I will fall for a dumb pickup line. I am not going to sleep with you, Jason Powell."
    "I wasn't thinking of sleeping."
    "What were you thinking of?"
    I turn around and grind back against him. I know exactly what he was thinking of. I can feel the evidence pressed against my rump.
    Very hard, thick evidence. Heat floods my body, the first stirrings of desire. No, not the first, they're too strong to be the first. Something in my mind wakes up and wants me to bend over in front of him. I stop myself and push my back into his chest instead. I can still feel him throbbing against my butt. I want to turn around and leap on him and knock him to the floor. I've never felt this way before. It's intoxicating, gripping. I feel like my blood is on fire.
    "I was thinking of how great you'd look on my bed while I rock your world."
    "Hmm, good. You can think about that while you are alone with your hand tonight."
    I turn around and give him a playful shove with one hand. He doesn't scowl or frown; he grins and steps closer, pulling me into him as we dance.
    "Oh, so you're going to play hard to get."
    "I'm impossible to 'get.' I am a princess. You should address me as your grace . That is my proper royal style."
    "I think your proper style is your birthday suit," he says, running his hands up my sides.
    How dare he! I should slap him, but I burst out laughing instead.
    "Oh you think you're such a big man. Too much for little old me, right? I'd eat you for breakfast."
    "If you let me try eating you, you won't want to."
    "Oh, and if I let you take me to bed now, what would you do to me?"
    "I'd read you poetry and we'd make s'mores."
    "Is that a euphemism?"
    "Trust me, after I'm done with you, we'll need s'mores. Baby, you'll be on fire."
    "That was a little better than the 'hold it against me' line. You're improving. Perhaps in fifty years a girl might actually kiss you."
    "I think you're going to kiss me right now."
    I look up at him looking down at me. He does have inviting lips, and a hint of stubble on his chin that I think would feel very good scratching my neck. My pulse quickens at the thought. I find myself staring at him again, and he stares back. He's going