Page 8 of The Secret Play

Between weak breaths, I panted, “Are you?—”

“Right now!” He slammed deep and his hips jerked forward as he came, too.

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Chapter 3

Casey

Istared at the ceiling, feeling both completely drained and utterly disoriented. Within the room and within myself. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning, and my pulse still thrummed from activity.

It wasn’t like me to lose track of time, or to give in to something—or someone—without thinking it through, and I’d done both tonight.

But Blue. God,Blue.

How the hell was I supposed to refuse an opportunity like this? Maybe that was a self-serving thought, but I hardly cared.

I’d always thought I had too much principle for this kind of thing. She was young enough to be my daughter, for fuck's sake.

Turns out, nope. I was as susceptible to chemistry as any man.

I turned my head to where she stood by the window, her back to me, the city lights catching the deep red tones of her hair as she adjusted the strap of her dress. I wanted to take a picture of her like that and capture the curve of her bare backside. She was truly breathtaking.

Her mask still hung on her face, as if she wasn’t quite ready to take it off.

I couldn’t blame her. I’d left mine on, too, except when I was devouring her from behind.

The mask changed everything.

It was a line in the sand, a boundary erased, a reason to take what I shouldn’t want. Without it, I might have resisted. Might have reminded myself she was too young, too off-limits, too much of a temptation I had no business touching.

But with it?

Fuck, it made me harder than I’d ever been. It gave me permission to stop fighting, to indulge, to take her the way I craved. The anonymity, the secrecy—it blurred the edges of right and wrong, made it easier to let go, to let myself have her.

Blue turned around then, her gaze catching mine, and I felt the stirring of something I couldn’t quite name. She looked the same as she had when we met, but now, there was a lightness to her, like she’d shed whatever weight she might’ve been carrying.

“Good morning,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. My throat had dried out from breathing too hard, too fast, for so long. But it had been totally worth it. I could take a scratchy throat for a few days if it meant I got to share the night with her.

“It’s after midnight, so yeah.Verygood morning,” she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips. She slipped her earrings back on and gestured toward my shoulder. “That birthmark of yours—it looks like Italy.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

She gestured again, stepping closer. “On your shoulder. It’s shaped like Italy. You’ve never noticed?”

I frowned, glancing down at the spot she was talking about. The mark had been there my whole life, but I’d always thought it looked more like Florida without much of a panhandle. “Huh. You’re right.”

“Have you ever been there?” she asked, her tone casual as she reached for her shoes.

“No. But I’ve always wanted to go. Haven’t had the chance.”

She slipped on her heels and stood, adjusting the hem of her dress. “You should. It’s worth the flight time.”

There was a moment of silence as she tucked her clutch in a drawer and gave herself a quick glance in the mirror.

I watched her, still not decided on my next play.

She was a lot younger than I was and surely there was no future for us.Should I ask for her number? Suggest we meet again? Where would that lead? Or should I just walk away.Every option felt wrong.

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