Playing it Cool (Sydney Smoke Rugby) Read Online Free PDF Page B

according to the internet.”
    He grimaced. He knew the kind of photos that floated around the web. Selfies snapped by female fans at matches, and the official engagements and award ceremonies he attended as part of his commitments—contractual and social—to the Sydney Smoke.
    “I haven’t dated any of those women. That just goes with the rugby territory. Official crap.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, taking another long swallow of her wine, displacing his hand in the process. “I saw a couple of very non-official looking ones, too.”
    Dex laughed. “Those aren’t me. In any way, shape, or form.” He knew about them, though. His head Photoshopped onto some porn star’s body, a twelve-inch schlong ready for action with some busty babe on her knees in front of him.
    Dex wasn’t exactly small in the junk department, but he didn’t want to falsely advertise, either.
    She eyed him for long moments, as if she were disappointed. “So why don’t you date?”
    “Because rugby is my number one priority at the moment. I had to fight hard to play professionally—I was overlooked a lot in my early career.”
    Dex had no desire to bring the mood down again by talking about how difficult it was to pull himself free of the circumstances of his youth and prove himself a worthy contender. He didn’t want her to think he was in it for the money, either, even if the thought of being on the bones of his ass again was highly motivating.
    “But I’m here now, and at thirty I’ve probably only got another few years left in me, playing at an elite level, and relationships are distracting.”
    “But plenty of guys do it. Get married. Have families.”
    “Sure. It works for them. Me?” Dex shook his head. He’d been passed over for selection too often. “I worked too hard to get into the team, and there’s such a narrow career window in professional sports, it has to be my focus. There’ll be time for relationships later.”
    She tipped her head, considering him for a second. “Are you gay?”
    Dex chuckled. “No.” And if he hadn’t been 100 percent sure about it before, then the rounded perfection of Harper’s ass had confirmed it.
    “So you’re just…celibate?”
    She sounded horrified, and he grinned. “Mostly. Occasionally I hook up but…” He shrugged. Having been caught out by one or two clingy women early in his career, Dex had learned to be careful.
    “So you either have a really low sex drive, which is kinda surprising given the amount of testosterone you guys must pump out, or you…spend a lot of time in the shower.”
    The comment surprised a laugh out of Dex. He glanced at her wine—this was her third glass and she was half done with it. “Ah. Now we’re getting to the mouthy bit.”
    “Have I shocked you?”
    “Not at all. It’s just that…and this may be because I don’t chit-chat with a lot of women…masturbation isn’t a topic I usually discuss with them.”
    “Why not? You discuss it with the guys, right?”
    Dex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. All this talk about wanking was having a predictable effect. “Well, we might smack talk about it, but we don’t sit around in the locker room having a serious discussion about how many times we did it the night before.”
    She quirked an eyebrow. “How many times?”
    Heat rose in Dex’s cheeks as he thought about how often in the last few days he’d tugged one off thinking about Harper. Christ. He’d been like a horny teenager all over again.
    “Why, Dexter Blake, I do believe you’re blushing. For a man who unashamedly read one of my private texts, I think it’s a little late to come over all prudish now!”
    She was grinning at him, obviously enjoying herself, and he relaxed. As far as Dex was concerned, it was a vast improvement on the shimmer of tears that goddamn text had caused.
    And two could play at that game. Clearly they’d both given up on the whole painting lark.
    He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, you