Page 32 of Power Play

I can’t help but smile at such a simple gesture, but it’s so sweet that he cared enough to do something like this. It helps that there’s a faint blush on his cheeks, coupled with a small grin, making him look even hotter than usual, and is just enough to send a shot of heat directly to my core. Hot and thoughtful? Sign me the fuck up. If he’s thoughtful outside of the bedroom, I can only imagine him in it.

“That’s sweet. Honestly, I don’t have a preference. I drink pretty much anything. But I’m partial to tequila, so good choice. Should we start with one?” I ask.

“Let’s start with the Fireball. I hate that shit and want to get it over with,” Rex grunts as he passes me the shot.

“We don’t have to take that one. Hell, I can do them both if you’d prefer,” I offer.

“Stop talking and take the damn shot so we can play this game,” he demands.

We cheers, never breaking eye contact as we both quickly took our shots. It might be the fact that I’ve already had a few drinks tonight, but there’s been a heat in Rex’s eyes since he came back from the bar, that has nothing to do with the heat of the fireball. I’m not sure if it’s from those girls flirting with him or from playing a game with me, but his eyes look... hungry.

Setting his glass down, he grabs a cue and immediately walks over to the table. “Before I break, remind me the rules again,” he grumbles, putting space between our growing tension.

“You make a ball, you get to ask me a question. You make two, you get to ask two. And it works the same for me. Got it?”

“Yep,” Rex says as he starts the game, sending three stripes into the pockets. With a cocky smirk, he winks at me before letting out a small chuckle, probably at my shocked look. “I’ll go easy on you with the first one, I promise,” his voice is all dark and growly, promising something wicked. I can’t get enough.

“Well, fuck. Hit me with your best shot,” I say.

Rex ponders this for a moment, but quickly hits me with a question.

“Why your own studio? Why don’t you want to teach at a studio that’s already open?”

“I thought you said you were taking it easy on me,” I mutter. His question is difficult, as it reminds me of the day I quit being a dancer, but it was also the day I knew I wanted to open a studio. “When I got injured and the doctors told me I would never dance like I used to, I was crushed. Absolutely heartbroken. My studio added salt to the wound when they dropped me from everything, including tryouts for Juilliard. Basically, I was worthless to them, so they replaced me. It crushed me, but it also showed me exactly what I never wanted to be like. I want to open a studio that’s open to everyone. Of course, we will train dancers for greater opportunities, but I also want to help young kids who have never danced before, and injured dancers who just want to feel the music flow through their body again.”

“I respect that. That’s a really cool perspective on a very shitty situation,” he says, staring at me with a look of awe.

“Thanks,” I tell him, ready to move on to the second question. “Next question?”

“If that’s your dream, why do you work at Atlantis?” Rex asks, looking both curious and nervous about my response. Luckily for me, I’ve answered this before, so it doesn’t faze me too much.

“I need money to pay for classes and my bills. Degrees don’t pay for themselves. Plus, I’m saving to get a studio.”

“You can get loans for that, right?” he questions.

“Usually, yeah. For both school and business loans. But my brother’s a dick, but that’s a story for another day. So, I work there and have another job during the day to pay for it all.” I shrug. Not much else I can do. “Last question?”

In his defense, he only hesitates for a moment before moving on to the next question. “I overheard you tell Cassie you refuse to date, and don’t give me that look, you ladies are far from quiet,” Rex says. He has a shy look on his face, like he’s beating around the bush to get to the question. “Why? Why don’t you date? You’re young, attractive, and seem like a cool chick. I guess I just don’t understand because when I was your age, all I wanted to do was date around,” he finishes with a shrug.

“That’s the issue, all the men my age do just want to date around, and the few you can find to commit are usually just controlling assholes who want to use you as arm candy or their little plaything. No thanks,” I reply.

“Is this from experience or just what you’ve seen?”

“Both?”

A flash of something goes through Rex’s eyes. It looks like anger, but I can’t tell if it’s directed at me or the men who have wronged me.

“Not all men are like that. Just because some men are assholes who only think with their dicks, doesn’t mean that you should stop trying.”

“Yeah, well, the day I meet someone who’s worth a damn and is interested in me, maybe I’ll consider it. But until then, I’m done wasting my time on men who want to play games.” A small shrug is all I give, hoping to end the conversation. Brandon was the last guy I dated, and it ended up being shit. “My shot now?”

“By all means, do your worst,” he says with a wave of his arm towards the table.

His cockiness is almost annoying. He’s standing there, leaning back against the stool, patiently waiting for me to take my shot. He looks unaffected by the whole situation, while I feel like my entire body is on fire just from his gaze.

“Shot first,” I tell him, walking over to where he’s standing with the shots. Grabbing the Patron shots, I pass him one. When he reaches for the shot, our fingers touch, and I secretly love the way he pulls his hand back like he feels the same electricity I do. Without any more hesitation, I pass him a lime, and we quickly down our shots.

“Now take yours,” Rex tells me in a low, raspy voice that tells me he’s not quite as unaffected as he’s letting on.

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