Page 100 of Play the Game

After quickly rinsing off and brushing my teeth, I step out into my bedroom, expecting to see her in my bed, but she isn’t there. Neither are the extra pillows.

Walking a little farther into my room, I pause when I see two adorable feet lying on the floor. I peer over the side of my bed. “Are you serious? You’re that stubborn?”

Scottie, dressed in nothing but one of my T-shirts—just to spite me—looks up at me with damp hair and a clean face. She’s entirely too beautiful without a speck of makeup on.

I wonder if she knows that.

She pulls the extra blanket up to her chin. “I obviously cannot be trusted with you.” She looks away disappointedly, like she’s at her wits end with herself. “You're right.”

Irritation skips up my spine. I sigh before bending at the knee. I scoop her up and let the blanket fall to the floor. “Emory, I’m serious!” She pushes at my grip, so I throw her onto the bed.

A tiny yelp escapes her, and I shoot her a serious glare. “You are not sleeping on the floor.”

Scottie’s jaw clenches.

“I won’t touch you.” I hate what I just promised. “But my wife is not sleeping on the fucking floor.”

My tone seems to resonate with her. She remains quiet, but I know she wants to say something.

After swiping a pillow off the floor, I hand it to her. She takes it with a hesitant grip but eventually settles onto the very edge of the bed. If she so much as turns in the middle of the night, she’ll fall off, but at least she’s on the bed.

After I flip the light off, I climb onto my side without saying a word to her.

I typically go to sleep early on game nights, but I’m wired with her being so close. The constant touching, quick glances, and subtle moments that we’ve shared in front of my parents are catching up to me.

Not to mention, the dressing room.

The fucking dressing room.

“Are you sleeping?” Her whisper does nothing but make me excited.

“No.”

“Okay.”

A rush of air leaves me. “Why? Were you gonna sneak out of the bed or something?”

Her soft laugh fills me up to the brim. “No. I just…”

Again, I’m hanging on her every fucking word.

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

Her shy tone hits me in all the wrong places. “For?”

“The dress.”

I’m surprised, considering she was so against me buying it. But after learning about her father and watching her panic when asked about her mother, I’m beginning to learn that Scottie isn’t used to someone taking care of her, or better yet, buying her expensive things.

I clear my throat. “You’re welcome.”

I want to reach out and grab her in the worst way, but I promised I wouldn’t touch her, so instead, I remain unmoving.

We both lie there in silence for what seems like hours.

Thankfully, she’s the first to break.

“Are you sleeping now?” she asks in a soft tone.

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