Page 65 of End Game

After brushing his teeth last night, Leo had stripped down to his usual sleepwear—nothing but a tight pair of briefs—and he crawled into bed next to me. Swift was all too excited to have both of us in one place. She went back and forth between us, kneading her small paws into our arms as she worked herself into a slumber. Dolly, in a wild turn of events, curled up in-between my legs and promptly began snoring.

Seemed to me we were getting closer to that friendship.

I’d carefully unwound my limbs from all other sleeping bodies when I finally woke up for good at about eight this morning. I could hear the clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen and knew Alaric and Christine were up. I had a vision of myself stomping out there and paying them a piece of my mind, but figured it was too early in the day for that particular brutality. So, I decided I would sneak across the hall into Leo’s converted yoga room and spend some time working the tension out of my body.

After pulling a sports bra and leggings out from my duffle bag on the floor in the closet, I realized I was down to almost no clean clothes. I’d have just enough to get by for work tonight, but I was in dire need of a washing machine. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t noticed a washer or dryer anywhere in the penthouse. I made a mental note to ask Leo about that later, and quickly slipped out of the bra and underwear I’d worn to bed in exchange for the athletic wear.

It was only a few steps from Leo’s bedroom to the yoga room, but they were harrowing nonetheless knowing Leo’s parents were out in the common area of the apartment. It would be pretty easy to glance down the hall from the living room and spot me, and I wanted to remain undetected for now. Luckily, I made it across the hall and into the other room without being seen, and exhaled a deep breath once the door was softly clicked shut.

I worked through a longer practice this morning, needing the extra time to feel my shoulders loosen from last night’s events. I couldn’t quite ease the worry on my mind for Leo, for how he was supposed to move on today knowing that more stilted interactions with his parents were required. I couldn’t believe he’d gone through his whole life being raised by such ugly people. It was a wonder that he’d come out the other side so . . . good. So kind and thoughtful and completely wonderful.

Once my limbs felt nice and loose and sweat dripped from my body onto the mat below me, I decided to call it and see if Leo was awake yet. I wanted to stick close to him today—at least until I left for work tonight. I wasn’t sure if Leo would be going in too, but I found myself hoping he would.

Before I left the room, I eyed the piano and guitars that were huddled in the far corner and suddenly yearned to hear Leo play.

I tiptoed back across the hallway, quietly opened his bedroom door—and stopped dead in my tracks.

Leo was standing at the edge of the bed, facing away from me, completely naked. His long and strong body flexing in exertion—from what, I wasn’t sure. But I couldn’t look away from the slope of his back or the way his ass clenched in a steadying rhythm. “Leo?” I whispered, knowing I couldn’t just simply stand here and stare.

He twisted around to face me, panic flooding through his flushed face. “Mara,” he blurted out, and my eyes dropped to find his hand wrapped around his impressive length, still pumping himself rapidly as if the message of being caught hadn’t quite moved from his brain to the rest of his body. On the bed in front of him, laid out perfectly together, was my bra and thong from last night.

“Oh,” I mumbled softly before lurching myself toward the bathroom. “I’m sorry!” I called out, covering my eyes with the palm of my hand. “I didn’t look! Not really.” I stubbed my toe on something hard and cried out with a curse before blindly recalibrating and marching toward what I prayed would be the bathroom door. “Seriously, so sorry—I should have knocked!”

Thankfully I made it into the bathroom without further injury and promptly slammed the door shut. My chest heaved as I realized what I’d just walked in on—Leo was fully getting himself off to the sight of my underwear.

“Mara.” Leo’s voice sounded at the door. “I’m so . . . so sorry. Please open the door and let me explain.”

I shook my head fiercely, as if he could see me. “No thanks!” I blurted. “I mean . . . no need!”

“Mara—”

“It’s okay! Really!”

Leo’s voice lowered into something stormy. “I’m not going anywhere until you open this door.”

God, he was so stubborn. I took a deep breath before twisting the doorknob and opening the door only an inch, peering out at him through the small crack. “Yes?” I asked like a blundering idiot.

His face was still flushed but his eyes were sharp. I couldn’t stop myself from looking down, but found he was back in his black briefs; though, he was still fully erect. My eyes were no doubt protruding from my skull as I forced them back up to meet his. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “I figured you were doing yoga, and I thought I’d have more time . . .” The words poured out of him.

“More time to ejaculate into my panties?” I asked.

He pressed his lips together. “Look, I’m doing my best to control myself and keep everything I’m feeling at bay. But I’d say the effect you have on me is pretty fucking obvious, and the way you looked last night . . . both at dinner and next to me in bed . . . I just . . . I needed to blow off a little steam. Okay?”

“Okay!” I whisper-shouted, doing my best to ignore the heat that was crawling up my neck. I’d wager Leo could undoubtedly see the effect he was having on me, too. “Got it! Anything else?”

“We’re okay?” he asked, eyes searching mine. It was obvious the poor bastard was genuinely afraid he’d done something that might push me away, and with everything else going on, the last thing I wanted him to start second-guessing was me.

“We’re good, Leo,” I assured. “Promise. I’m just . . . going to take a shower. Okay?”

He gave me a tight nod. “Okay.”

I shut the door between us and quickly turned the faucet on in the shower before my limbs went wild in a silent freak-out in the middle of the bathroom. Once I undressed and slipped through the glass door of the steaming shower, I had to work especially hard not to blow off some steam myself.

The room looked empty when I peeked out the bathroom door, and relief flooded through me. I’d been so hasty in my escape from Leo’s elicit self-love time that I hadn’t brought a change of clothes with me to the bathroom. I craned my head out further, taking a long look around just to make sure, but the bedroom door was shut and not even a cat could be found. Letting out a breath, I exited in nothing but a small towel.

It was safe to assume that, like everything else in this penthouse, Leo’s towels were expensive—they were softer than the peach fuzz on a baby’s head and felt incredible against my skin. But they’d clearly been designed by someone who didn’t enjoy being in one for long. They were so much smaller than the ginormous bath towels I had at my apartment, barely wrapping around my middle. I did my best to keep it sealed shut as I moved toward the closet to pull out the single remaining work outfit, remembering I still needed to ask Leo about how I could do some laundry. I didn’t see my underwear—or bra, for that matter—that Leo had been using as . . . inspiration . . . so I figured they’d ended up wherever it was that he put his own dirty laundry.

I had to push the implication of that thought away the second it entered my mind.

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