Page 121 of Play the Game

Longing?

Every time he touches me, it feels like he’s trying to prove something, and I can’t pretend that I’m not starting to believe him.

My glass of water clanks on the counter when I hear the door open.

Heat rushes to my toes, and suddenly, I’m weak at the knees.

Emory mumbles something that resembles a curse to Shutter, and I silently laugh.

I quietly tiptoe to the pantry with my phone in hand. When I hear his bag drop and his footsteps grow fainter, I type a message.

I’ve always been good at hide and seek.

It’s true. I don’t discusswhyI was so good at hide and seek, but there were times I would hide all night long—well after my worst nightmares would stop seeking.

I stare at the ceiling when I hear his footsteps seize. I roll my lips together until I feel the buzz of my phone.

You know I don’t like to lose.

You can’t be a winner all the time.

When it comes to you, I can.

Warmth spreads, and my stomach flutters. I nibble on my thumb with a smile hiding behind my hand. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. I’m light and airy for the first time in my entire life, and I don’t know how to handle it.

I just know that I don’t want to let it go.

My senses sharpen when I hear his footsteps approaching. I step away from the door and press my back into the shelf lined with pasta.

The longer you make me wait, the longer I make you wait.

I hear his knuckle rap against the counter, and my legs wobble. A burst of flirty nerves rush up my throat.

Sounds like something a loser would say.

You’re asking for trouble again, wife.

Guess you’ll have to punish me.

I freeze when the door to the pantry opens slowly. I see his large hand first, pushing on the wood with the tips of his fingers. In the dark of the kitchen, he’s nothing but a looming shadow, but I know it’s him just by the width of his shoulders.

“You like playing games, don’t you, wife?”

His low tone makes me drop my phone. I’m weak-kneed and dizzy with a yearning I’ve never experienced before. If he asked me to strip right here, I would without any hesitation.

He walks closer, only taking a few steps until he’s right in front of me. I peer at him from my shorter stance and nearly fall into his chest when he cups my waist and pulls me into the kitchen.

My tongue jolts from my mouth to lick my bottom lip, and the sound that leaves him goes right between my legs.

“You want to be punished, baby?” I’ve never heard the tone he’s using with me right now. My breaths are choppy, and I’m practically panting. Blooms of pleasure rush to my breasts to the point that the cotton of the shirt sends hot tingles everywhere.

“Maybe,” I answer.

The room spins as he turns me. I feel his mouth against my ear when he grips me tighter around the waist.

“Hands on the counter.”

I don’t like to be bossed around.

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