Page 74 of Play Along

“And Miller is in town.”

“My sister-in-law.” Another step in my direction.

“You really need to make this about yourself, huh?”

“Of course I do.” That timely smirk makes its appearance. “Put me out of my misery, Kenny, and tell me you’re coming for me.”

That phrase could be taken in an entirely different way, and as much as I try not to imagine the alternate meaning, I still feel my cheeks warm.

“I’m trying new things, remember?” I raise a brow. “Or have you forgotten? Because it seems like you may have forgotten.”

His head falls in laughter. “Trust me, Ken. There’s not a second that’s gone by in the last week that I’ve forgotten about the new things you want to try.”

“That’s weird. Because I’ve been waiting for you to remember.”

“I know you have.”

“So, when are you going to do something about that?”

“When you least expect it.”

But I’m always expecting it now. Every time we’re in the same room, I’m expecting it. No, expecting isn’t the right word. I’m hoping that he tries something.

I crane my neck to look up at him. He’s invading my space, my chest almost to his stomach. Isaiah softly moves my hair behind my ears, cupping my jaw, his thumbs slowly stroking over my cheekbones. His sparkling brown eyes bounce over my entire face, taking me in. The pads of his fingers grip the back of my neck. His breath dusts over my skin.

My pulse is thundering, beating wildly with anticipation, and it only pounds faster when he licks his lips and leans down.

Eyes closing, I suck a breath, expecting, waiting, but instead, he drags his lips across my jaw until his mouth meets my ear. “Lesson number one, Kennedy. You can’t pencil affection into your little planner, so stop overthinking it.”

He finishes that with a chaste kiss on the pounding pulse point under my ear, and I’m left panting for this man.

The tilt on his lips screams that he knows the tables have turned. We’re both aware that for the first time since we’ve known each other, I’m waiting on him instead of the other way around.

And he fucking loves it.

I don’t know if I can handle the spontaneity. If it were up to me, I’d schedule out an hour a day when I knew he would be touching me.

Isaiah rounds my body, right to his open suitcase, pulling out his clothes for tonight, laying a pair of khaki-colored pants on the bed, followed by a bright red tee and his olive-green jacket. He proceeds to dig out a clean pair of boxer briefs and two socks. One navy-blue, the other black.

Maybe I should let him go out in that outfit.

Maybe other women will stay away from the guy dressed like it’s Christmas in April.

But is that what I want?

Surprisingly, I think I do want other women to stay away from him. Which is unfortunate for me because I know no matter what the guy is wearing, women have never been able to stay away from Isaiah Rhodes.

He’s got this knowing smile on his lips when he says, “So now that I’ve held your hand and you’ve laid one on me, should we just skip ahead to the showering together lesson or do you want to go first?”

He motions towards the bathroom with a naughty twinkle in his eye, and all I can think about is whether or not that’s really a lesson he has planned.

I don’t think I’ll mind learning a thing or two from my husband.

I clear my throat. “You go ahead first.”

Standing there in front of me, not moving a centimeter, he reaches over his head and takes his shirt off. Isaiah doesn’t even bother to act like he doesn’t want me to see every single inch of him, and I don’t try to hide my staring.

“Eyes are up here, wifey.”

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