Playing the Game Read online

  Playing the Game

  Making the Play - Book 1

  By L.M. Reid

  Published by Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  Copyright © 2021 by

  L.M. Reid & Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Other Titles by L.M. Reid

  Other Titles by L.M. Reid

  The Hard to Love Series

  Hard to Hate

  Hard to Trust

  Hard to Forgive

  The Making the Play Series

  Playing the Game

  Playing the Field

  Playing to Win

  Prologue

  Quinn

  When I step into the lecture hall, Professor Powell’s eyes fall on me. I would be lying if I said that the slight smirk on his lips and subtle shake of his head wasn’t a turn on. Not when I know that it’s because he’s remembering exactly what happened at our so-called “study session” last night.

  A study session, where he was supposed to do exactly that, help me study.

  Not that I needed it. No, that was all just a ruse.

  When I showed up to his office last night, I had anything but studying on my mind. In fact…

  I open my trench coat, the lace panties and bra underneath the only clothing I have on.

  “Quinn, what are you doing?” Professor Powell asks. I’ve clearly surprised him. The way his eyes rake over me though, I’m fairly certain he won’t be complaining.

  I saunter over to him. I scrape my nails along his chest, straight down to his waistband. “What does it look like I’m doing… Professor?”

  A smile plays on his lips. His hands grip my hips and hoist me onto his desk. He steps between my legs.

  “You’ve not been behaving in class, Ms. Ford. I’m going to have to give you a bad grade for that.”

  I spread my legs further as I worry my lip between my teeth. “Isn’t there anything else I could do, professor? I hate being in trouble.”

  He flicks the clasp on my bra open, freeing my breasts. “I might be able to think of something.”

  “Quit fantasizing, Ms. Ford, and take your seat,” the Professor tells me.

  I glance around the room that’s now filled up. While his words have a meaning to me, they seem innocent enough to the rest of the class. Unless of course they knew I was staring at him.

  Honestly, though. I don’t even care.

  Teacher-student relationships are frowned upon. But I’ll be damned if Professor Powell isn’t worth it.

  At his request, I take my seat. My phone flashes a message from him.

  Professor: Good girl following directions. After class I’ll give you a reward.

  My thighs clench at the thought. Christ, I want him.

  After class, Quinn. All you have to do is make it through class. Not a hard feat considering I get to stare at the Professor the entire time.

  He begins his lecture and I allow myself to drift back to last night. Every position, every taste, every last….

  “Where is she?” a woman’s voice shouts.

  The door to the lecture hall slams behind her with a thud.

  “Amber?” Professor Powell, otherwise known as Shane, asks.

  I turn to look where everyone else’s eyes have already drifted to – to the beautiful woman standing in the entrance to the lecture hall. Her blonde hair is pulled back and her clothes are pressed and professional. Even from a distance I can see that her eyes are filled with fury and her cheeks are flushed a deep red. She’s pissed. And since her eyes are glued to Shane, I can only assume it’s him that she’s pissed at.

  “Where is she?” the woman shouts again.

  The entire class has their eyes on her, but mine are on Shane. The panicked look in his eyes, the fear etched onto his face.

  “Where is she?” the woman demands again.

  “This isn’t the time or place,” he tells her. Not that she cares in the slightest. She is filled with such a rage that there isn’t anything that will calm her except finding the woman she’s looking for.

  That’s when I realize that the woman she’s looking for, is me. And that Shane is married. He’s fucking married. And I feel like such a bitch.

  I might be the kind of girl who’s going to screw her professor, but I am not the girl who has affairs with married men. Or even just taken men. I’ve been on the losing end of the cheating realm more times than I can count, and I would never do that to anyone. Not that it will matter to her. It sure as hell never mattered to me.

  Amber’s eyes begin to dart around the room and when they fall on me, I freeze.

  Shit.

  “You,” she yells. “You little bitch.”

  In the blink of an eye the woman, Amber, is standing in front of me. She’s yelling and screaming and creating a scene. And I let her because I deserve it.

  “I had no idea he was married,” I tell her. Not that it will do any good. The anger and sadness that she is feeling isn’t going to dissipate just because I didn’t know.

  Shane reaches us and his hands reach for her. His words are soft and smooth in an attempt to calm her. “Amber, honey, listen…”

  I cringe at his words, the way he’s trying to placate her. I’ve been in her shoes before. And the way he’s talking to her, that’s not going to bode well for him.

  “I am so sorry,” I tell her. And it’s not just some bullshit line to try and calm her or get her to not punch me. If I were her, I would have done it already.

  The truth is, I am sorry. I am sorry that she’s hurting, I’m sorry that he cheated, and most of all I’m sorry because I had no fucking clue. If I had, I wouldn’t have gotten involved with him. There are plenty of sexy single professors.

  “I bet you are,” she says. The sting of her hand against my cheek stops me from speaking.

  Nothing I say or do is going to make it better, so I let her have her moment. I let her take her anger out on me now, hoping like hell that she lets him have it later.

  I really like Shane. Despite the teacher-student thing, I really thought maybe one day we could have something.

  Turns out all we have is a real fucking mess.

  Chapter 1

  Quinn

  “What do you mean you got kicked out of school?” Mason shouts at me.

  He may only be a few years older than me, but he took on the parental role when our parents didn’t bother to. Our childhood was a shitshow,
only made better by the fact that Mason was an amazing older brother who did everything in his power to make sure we were taken care of.

  I sit on his couch, staring at my hands, unsure how to tell him the “how” that I know he is going to be asking about next.

  He’s pacing in front of me. He always paces when he’s trying to figure shit out. Right now, he’s probably wondering how I could have turned all his hard work and sacrifices into this mess. All I had to do was follow my dream. He would take care of the rest.

  And I threw it all away for sex.

  That is an admission I am not quite ready to make.

  “Why? How? What in the fuck did you do, Quinn?”

  Mason might be used to my wild ways – shitty boyfriends, partying too hard. But this? Getting kicked out of a school that I worked my ass off to get into? Even this is a bit much for me.

  After the whole fiasco in the classroom with Professor Powell and his wife, rumors started to fly. My grades were brought into question. After all, how does the whorish girl who slept with her professor also manage to have straight A’s? Why, she must have screwed her way to them.

  “If I were you, I would strongly consider changing schools.”

  That was the Dean’s recommendation. After all the looks and comments, I couldn’t help but to agree.

  “I wasn’t kicked out so much as it was suggested that I switch schools,” I tell him.

  It took every ounce of courage I have to even call Mason and tell him that I needed a place to stay because I had to leave school and, in turn, my dorm room. Even through the phone I could feel the anger radiating off him. Everything he sacrificed, everything he did so I could make my dreams come true. So that we could both have a better life. And what do I do? I go and throw it all away.

  The blink of an eye.

  That’s all it took.

  Mason demanded that I come back here to Remington. Not that I had much of a choice as there was no place else for me to go. The only other directive – I need to get my shit together.

  That’s a given.

  A given or not, it’s not going to be easy. I’m the screw up. He’s the good guy. It’s always been like that. Where he had to take charge and be responsible, I acted out. I could because I knew he would always take care of it. And he has. Except this time, I may have pushed the envelope a little too far. Getting kicked out of school is a far cry from my usual behavior - shitfaced at a party or dating assholes.

  “I know you’re disappointed in me,” I tell him.

  Finally, he takes a seat next to me. “I’m not disappointed. Hell, I’m not even mad.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him knowing that last line is bullshit. He’s pissed. It’s written all over his face.

  “Okay, maybe I’m a little mad. But, mostly, I’m just worried about you, Q.”

  We always swore that we were going to make a better life for ourselves. While Mason has managed to accomplish that, I’m still trying to find my way. Usually through sex and booze and partying.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Q, and honestly, I don’t care what happened at Columbia. I just want to move forward. I want to help you make something of yourself because you are way too talented to throw your life away because of some bullshit.”

  I smile at him, loving the fatherly speech he just gave me and hating it all at the same time.

  “I will get my shit together, I promise.”

  How I’m going to do that exactly, I have no idea. Though, based on the look on his face, I’m fairly certain he’s about to tell me.

  “Good. For starters, you’re going to enroll at Remington University. I don’t care what you go to school for, but you’re going to school.”

  I nod in agreement. I don’t have a choice. No money, no job, no choice but to rely on my brother to take care of me. Again.

  You would think that would be incentive enough to keep me on the straight and narrow, yet here I am having made a mess of things.

  “You’re not her,” he says. To most, it would seem like his comment comes out of left field. But to me? It makes total sense. “Just like I’m not him. We can do better. We can make a life for ourselves.”

  Mason, the protector. The eternal optimist.

  If he only knew how much more I am like our mother then he realizes, he would hate me. It’s a truth that just might destroy us.

  I pull back from the embrace and smile at my brother. The man who is already doing it – proving himself. Not only did he make it into the NFL, he’s crushing it. Looking at Mason now though, I’m determined to turn it around. To do good if for no other reason than to allow him the ability to not have to worry about me so he can live out his dream. In the least, I can make a good show of it.

  That much I’m certain of.

  “I know,” I say only to pacify him.

  He pulls me in for a hug. As he squeezes every last breath out of me, he says. “I’m not glad you got kicked out of school, but I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”

  I hug him back. “I missed you, too.”

  When he pulls back, he smiles at me, the anger gone. “Come on, let me show you to your room.”

  He grabs my bags and leads me down the long hallway to a spacious bedroom. Mason drops my bag on the bed. “So, what do you think?”

  The room looks way too nice, way too decorated for him to have done it himself. “I love it.” I turn to face him. “How is Avery by the way?”

  I can tell by the touches around the room that she played a part in this. I also know my brother well enough to know that outside of me and his friend Hunter, Avery is the only other person he would let close enough to even have a say in it.

  The sound of her name brings an instantaneous smile to his face. One that I’m certain he doesn’t even realize happens.

  “She’s good. Doing really well, actually. She’s going to be thrilled to have you around.”

  “I can’t wait to see her either,” I say with a smile.

  “You know you can talk to me, right? You can tell me anything? I just want to help,” Mason says.

  I wrap my arms around my brother and hug him again. “I’m well aware. I promise you, Mase, I’m okay. I fucked up, but I’m okay. And I won’t let it happen again. I will make you proud of me one of these days.”

  Mason shakes his head. “I’m already proud of you, Quinn. I just wish you would take a minute to be proud of yourself.”

  Mason leaves the room, his words left behind to rattle around in my head.

  Chapter 2

  Hunter

  Sliding the key into the lock, I let myself into Mason’s condo.

  He and Avery should be here soon. When they are, we will be heading out to pick up Layla for the charity event.

  As I make my way into the living room, I can’t help but notice that the usually messy space is immaculate. Avery must have cleaned up after his ass again. I don’t know why in the hell she does it. Then I smile to myself thinking about all the shit I put up with from Mason. There’s just something about the guy. His never-ending faith. His loyalty. Even after the shit life he and his sister grew up in, he persevered. So, if he needs a little extra looking after on occasion, so be it. I owe him enough to put up with it.

  Just as I’m about to turn the corner, something, or rather someone, runs directly into me. My hands grip soft skin as my eyes drift down.

  Quinn Ford.

  Trouble with a capital T.

  She lets out a scream before realizing who it is that she ran into. The moment she does, her hand connects with my arm, swatting me away. Seeing her standing in front of me wearing nothing but a towel has me completely dumbfounded. I’m stunned, and in a hell of a lot of trouble considering I’ve been staring at her longer than I should.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks. She places her hands on her hips, causing the towel to slide down ever so slightly. I fake a cough to hide the groan that escapes.

  “Me? What about you? Shouldn’t you be off at
school?”

  Quinn attends Columbia University. She’s an art major, and a talented one from what I’ve heard. So why in the hell is she here when she should be there?

  Rather than answer my question, she deflects. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

  I clear my throat as I hold up the key. “I have, but usually don’t since I have one of these.”

  It’s the key that Mason gave me to his place, just like the one I gave him to mine. It’s also a key I have zero intention of using again until long after Quinn leaves.

  She steps forward, grabbing the key out of my hand. “Now you don’t, so you can leave.”

  “Oh no you don’t,” I say as I grab her wrist.

  We struggle slightly for the key, a struggle that undoubtedly, I will win. I’m bigger. I’m stronger. Yet, I am so much weaker because the moment I see her towel beginning to slip, I let the key go and turn around.

  “Shit,” I curse as I divert my eyes from her naked body. I do it for a lot of reasons, but the most important being I have a girlfriend. I have for a long time. One that I love. And everything about seeing Quinn in her state of undress feels wrong. So damn wrong. Especially since a part of me wants to keep on looking even though I know I shouldn’t.

  I can’t.

  I won’t.

  “What? You’ve never seen a naked woman before?” Quinn asks with a laugh.

  “Go put some damn clothes on,” I instruct her, my eyes staring at the front door praying that Mason doesn’t walk in. All I need is for him to get the wrong impression, or worse, for Layla to walk in with him. I can only imagine how she would react if she saw Quinn and me together like this.

  Quinn has always been defiant, so when she actually does as I ask, I’m notably surprised. When I hear the door to her bedroom shut, I turn around and scrub my hand over my face.

  Holy hell, what was that? And why did I like it so much?