stupid that I might? His fingers creep around my neck as his forehead presses against mine. He stares into my eyes and I don’t look away. My heart races with every glance he offers me, my skin jumps with every touch. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Part of me can’t believe what I’m about to say.
“I can’t promise you anything,” I begin, the words sticking in my throat. “But I’m willing to give you a chance. To give us a chance. But I swear to God, if you lie to me again I’ll slice your balls off and feed them to my dog.”
“You don’t have a dog,” he chuckles, planting a kiss on my lips.
I narrow my eyes at him and I swear I see him shiver. “Then I’ll get one.”
“I promise you won’t regret this, Rave,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me.
“I hope I don’t,” I mutter, closing my eyes. “I really hope I don’t.”
The End
Other books by Missy
See full backlist, links and full blurbs at
www.missycjohnson.com
Wildcard: A three part serial (see over page for chapter one)
Has the bad boy of tennis finally met his match?
Volume One: http://amzn.com/B00MR2MK98
Always You
A sweet student/teacher romance that will make you appreciate love.
http://amzn.com/B00HDZOTM0
Wicked Innocence
He’s a twenty-five year old rock god who thinks I’m twenty-one. I’m only seventeen…
http://amzn.com/B00MDLKQ62
The Tease Series
Male escort. That got your attention.
http://amzn.com/B00GP0SB8W
Out of Reach (see over for excerpt)
My best friend is dying and I’m in love with his girl.
http://amzn.com/B00K6Y3SDQ
Provoke
Mace is hiding something. What would you forgive the man you love for?
http://amzn.com/B00J1HNFMS
Wildcard: Volume One excerpt
Chapter One
“Ryder, you’re becoming more well-known for your behaviour off court than your actual career. Do you have anything to comment on that?”
I raise my eyebrows at the reporter. Flashes from cameras are going off everywhere, as you’d expect in a post-match press conference—especially for a game I’d been very lucky to win.
“Not sure what you mean there, Stan,” I say, reading his nametag. It’s been less than two minutes, and I’m already sick of where this is going. “I came here to play tennis—that’s it. It’s a damn shame that reporters like yourself having nothing better to do than focus on what I do in my private time.”
“But is it private time when you’re out until three a.m. the night before a big match?” he persists.
I shrug, and wipe my mouth in an attempt to hide my smirk. “Players prepare for matches in different ways. I’m sure for some a good night’s sleep does the trick, but for me, I’ll take an evening of rough and sweaty sex over a quiet night any day of the week.” I ignore the glare of my manager, Matt, and nod at the next reporter.
“Ryder, do you think your pre-match actions showed disrespect for your opponent today?”
“How?” I fire back. “I treated the build-up to this match just the same as I would if I were playing Nadal or Federer. You all seem to want to focus on my life outside of the court. Does anyone here have any questions about my actual tennis?”
I cross my arms over my chest as Matt bows his head and sighs. A murmur rises through the crowd before someone puts their hand up. I nod, my eyes locking onto hers. She’s a pretty little thing with long, dark hair and stunning blue eyes. I can tell she’s feisty, and I find myself wondering if that attitude carries over into the bedroom.
“You play the number two ranked player in the world tomorrow, and your fellow countryman, Jason Dillard. Will you be having an early night tonight?” she asks. Her full, red lips curve into a grin, and I can feel myself harden.
I shift in my seat and lean forward, resting my elbows on the table in front of me. “Well, that depends.” I smirk.
“On what?”
“On whether or not you’ll give me your phone
“I can’t promise you anything,” I begin, the words sticking in my throat. “But I’m willing to give you a chance. To give us a chance. But I swear to God, if you lie to me again I’ll slice your balls off and feed them to my dog.”
“You don’t have a dog,” he chuckles, planting a kiss on my lips.
I narrow my eyes at him and I swear I see him shiver. “Then I’ll get one.”
“I promise you won’t regret this, Rave,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me.
“I hope I don’t,” I mutter, closing my eyes. “I really hope I don’t.”
The End
Other books by Missy
See full backlist, links and full blurbs at
www.missycjohnson.com
Wildcard: A three part serial (see over page for chapter one)
Has the bad boy of tennis finally met his match?
Volume One: http://amzn.com/B00MR2MK98
Always You
A sweet student/teacher romance that will make you appreciate love.
http://amzn.com/B00HDZOTM0
Wicked Innocence
He’s a twenty-five year old rock god who thinks I’m twenty-one. I’m only seventeen…
http://amzn.com/B00MDLKQ62
The Tease Series
Male escort. That got your attention.
http://amzn.com/B00GP0SB8W
Out of Reach (see over for excerpt)
My best friend is dying and I’m in love with his girl.
http://amzn.com/B00K6Y3SDQ
Provoke
Mace is hiding something. What would you forgive the man you love for?
http://amzn.com/B00J1HNFMS
Wildcard: Volume One excerpt
Chapter One
“Ryder, you’re becoming more well-known for your behaviour off court than your actual career. Do you have anything to comment on that?”
I raise my eyebrows at the reporter. Flashes from cameras are going off everywhere, as you’d expect in a post-match press conference—especially for a game I’d been very lucky to win.
“Not sure what you mean there, Stan,” I say, reading his nametag. It’s been less than two minutes, and I’m already sick of where this is going. “I came here to play tennis—that’s it. It’s a damn shame that reporters like yourself having nothing better to do than focus on what I do in my private time.”
“But is it private time when you’re out until three a.m. the night before a big match?” he persists.
I shrug, and wipe my mouth in an attempt to hide my smirk. “Players prepare for matches in different ways. I’m sure for some a good night’s sleep does the trick, but for me, I’ll take an evening of rough and sweaty sex over a quiet night any day of the week.” I ignore the glare of my manager, Matt, and nod at the next reporter.
“Ryder, do you think your pre-match actions showed disrespect for your opponent today?”
“How?” I fire back. “I treated the build-up to this match just the same as I would if I were playing Nadal or Federer. You all seem to want to focus on my life outside of the court. Does anyone here have any questions about my actual tennis?”
I cross my arms over my chest as Matt bows his head and sighs. A murmur rises through the crowd before someone puts their hand up. I nod, my eyes locking onto hers. She’s a pretty little thing with long, dark hair and stunning blue eyes. I can tell she’s feisty, and I find myself wondering if that attitude carries over into the bedroom.
“You play the number two ranked player in the world tomorrow, and your fellow countryman, Jason Dillard. Will you be having an early night tonight?” she asks. Her full, red lips curve into a grin, and I can feel myself harden.
I shift in my seat and lean forward, resting my elbows on the table in front of me. “Well, that depends.” I smirk.
“On what?”
“On whether or not you’ll give me your phone
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