Page 83 of Play the Game

“I thought you liked playing games,” I say, grabbing a towel off the hook.

She follows my every move as I wrap it around my waist and erase the space between us. I notice the white of her knuckles as she holds onto the vanity for dear life, and if I had to guess, she’s relying on it to keep her steady.

Without caring if she protests, I grip her around the waist and lift her off her feet. I set her on the edge of the bathroom counter and pull her oversized T-shirt up so I can see more of her smooth legs.

Irresistible.

When we’re this close, she has me by the throat, and she has no fucking idea.

It’s easy to keep my distance when we’re apart.

But when we’re together? It’s hard to focus.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, peering at me through her soft eyes.

I curse under my breath when I take my hands and run them up the insides of her calves, slowly skimming her soft skin all the way to her knees. Without removing my eyes from hers, I push her legs open and move closer.

“I said, it’s your turn.”

She shakes her head. “I… I shouldn’t.” Through her denial, she arches her back and lengthens her neck, like she’s egging me on or something.

If I look closely enough, I bet I could see her tiny pulse beating through her skin as quickly as mine is.

My hands move to the outside of her thighs, and I drag them up until I feel the hem of her panties. I slip my fingers underneath the silk, and she sucks in a choppy breath. “Where’s my confident wife at?” I tease. “The one who loves to drive me crazy and always wants to have the upper hand?”

There’s a tiny crease in between her eyebrows, and I’m confident that I have what it takes to make her succumb.

“Hmm?” I push, tugging on her panties.

I keep my attention glued to hers when she lifts up slightly, allowing me to pull her panties down until they’re in a pool at my feet, right beside her toothbrush.

“I just don’t think you touching me is a good idea,” she admits, staring up at me with eyes that are full of hidden desires. I want to act each and every one of them out until the end of our marriage.

A raspy chuckle leaves me. “That’s why you’re going to touch yourself.”

The divot between her eyebrows grows deeper. “In front of you? I?—”

Words disappear on the tip of her tongue when I grab her wrist and hold it hostage. She clenches her fist, and I burn all over when I push it between her legs. Her knuckles skim the inside of her thigh, and I watch in awe as goosebumps break out along her skin.

She likes this so much more than she’s willing to admit. I love her defiance. It keeps me on the edge of my seat.

“Like I said,” I repeat, “your secrets are safe with me. Who’s going to know that you came into my bathroom late at night and watched me fuck my hand at the thought of you on your knees and then got yourself off on top of my bathroom counter?”

Scottie’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, and I love pushing her buttons so fucking much.

“You don’t even have to tell me what you’re thinking about when you finger yourself.” I shrug confidently. “I already know it’s me.”

There’s a wicked look in her eye, and I push her hand up higher to meet the warmth I feel brush against my skin.

God damn.

It would only take one little shift to the right, and I’d know just how wet she is. My curiosity grows when I feel her wrist move a little in my grip, and it takes everything in me not to lift her shirt higher so I can see what she’s doing.

“Don’t be shy.” My voice is low and throaty. “I’m your husband, remember? There’s nothing wrong with you touching yourself.”

Without being able to take it, I release her wrist and cover some of her hand with mine. I realize this is what it must be like to be blind, but I have to admit, not knowing what she’s doing to herself and only feeling her hand move has me mesmerized. My heels press into the floor as I steady myself. A shaky breathfalls from the little space between her lips, and I have the urge to plunge my tongue inside her mouth so I can taste the desire.

Her finger moves in circles, and the faster it gets, the harder I grow. I grip her thigh with my free hand and shove her legs further apart. Without being able to keep a hold on my restraint, I look down, and my vision blurs.

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