Page 6 of The Spice Play

Oh my God.The breath I drew in was shaky at best, and while his fingers slipped further beneath my top and skirted the edge of my bra, I hastily threw out a guess. “Sam,” I breathed.

A single finger hooked the elastic just beside the cup. “Incorrect.”

Another, from his other hand, slid under my belt loop. I nearly choked on my saliva as he pulled me impossibly closer. “Spencer?”

“Do I look like aSpencer, Penelope?” he laughed, but it was far too heavy to sound casual. His thumb thrummed against the button of my jeans, playing with the little tabs of fabric and threatening to pop them open.

My heartbeat pounded in the back of my throat. “Simon?”

More digits slipped under the elastic of my bra, hovering just at the edge of my cup, dragging across my skin and sending my blood pooling down below. “You’re so bad at this.”

I swallowed. “Please just tell me.”

“No, I like this game.”

His teeth came down on my earlobe, just gently, and I nearly lost my mind and turned the handle. “Asshole,” I squeaked.

“That doesn’t even start with anS.”

“Steven?”

His fingers worked in tandem. All at once, they moved, graspingthe hooks on the back of my bra and popping them open, closing in on the button of my jeans and dislodging it. “You’re running out of commonSnames.”

The unmistakable sound of the hallway doors opening made my pulse skyrocket. “Please don’t tell me it’s one I’ll never think of.”

“It’s common,” he said.

His lips met my neck. I struggled to keep my breathing under control.

“Your skin is onfire.” Tooth by fucking tooth, he inched my zipper down. “Maybe we should get you out of these clothes to cool you down.”

“Shaun? Seth? Shane? Scott?”

My shirt rose high enough that I was dangerously close to being struck with a public indecency charge, and the moment his palm cupped the underneath of my breast, my hands shot out, gripping the fabric of his shirt — andoh my God, the muscles beneath. Rock hard.

Somewhere behind me, someone’s apartment door opened and closed, and all I could hope was that it didn’t mean another person was entering the hallway and instead meant the coast was clear. “Sawyer? Saul? Sebastion…”

Fingers grasped the flap of my zipper and pulled my hips right up against him as he pushed his pelvis forward and the…fuck, the rigidness beneath his jeans.

“Atta girl,” he rasped, his teeth scraping against the soft spot beneath my ear. I couldn’t breathe. “Now open the fucking door.”

Sebastion.

It fit.

I pushed the handle, and the door swung open, and without a second of hesitation, he walked me backward over the threshold while he lifted my shirtclean off my body. My bra, hanging open and hiding absolutely nothing, dropped to the floor as he kicked the door shut.

There was no time for a formal tour, no time to show him my array of painted plates with the royal family’s faces on them that someone had gifted me four years ago and I’d displayed on my walls as a joke, no time to catch my breath and freshen up, no time to second guess.

Sebastion’shands were on me. And he was ravenous.

He walked me back against the countertop of my kitchen island just beside the door frame, with one hand hooked on the top of my open jeans and the other snaking around the back of my neck. I hadn’t even had the chance to turn on the lights yet, but I could feel his heavy breathing against my skin as he moved his head lower, hovering around my collarbones.

“Alexa, turn on the kitchen lights,” I croaked.

She did a little hum, and the lights flicked on. The way he looked up at me as his fingers dug in at the base of my skull was fucking sinful.

Half-lidded blue eyes blinked up at me, a hint of mischief dancing in them, and he kept them locked on mine unnervingly while he palmed the waistband of my jeans, pushing them lower.

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