Page 107 of Play the Game

When our eyes catch again, I lay it out straight. “If you don’t want me to cross lines, stop drawing them, because you’retempting me, and I’m a man who saves all his restraint for the ice.”

“You have a game tonight,” she says, like I forgot.

Which I did.

Because when she's in my line of sight, all I fucking think about is her.

“All the more reason for me to reserve my self-control.” I stare at her mouth, and mine waters. “So either get out of our bed or get over here and act like my wife.”

“Your bed,” she corrects again, moving her leg against me.

I breathe out a raspy breath and glare at the ceiling. “Our.” When I turn back toward her, I zero in on her sparkling white teeth digging into her plump bottom lip, and all restraints break.“1.”

Scottie’s eyes grow bigger, but if she wants to escape now, she’s going to have to beg for it.

I flip on top of her with agile speed. The leg that was playing games with me falls to the side, and I’m suddenly pressing into her with my pelvis. She gasps and thrusts her braless chest into my face. Warmth spreads to every muscle in my body.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I whisper while taking her hands and pinning them above her head. Blonde locks of hair lay around her, and I swear she looks like an angel. “I gave you plenty of time to remove yourself from this bed.” Her nostrils flare, but she nods curtly. With her wrists trapped, I drag my other hand down her curves, memorizing every last one even more than I already have.

I pull the cotton of her oversized tee up and expose the silky pair of panties she’s wearing.

I bring my mouth to her ear and inhale her scent. “I warned you too. Right?”

“Right.” The word is breathy.

I press into her a little harder with my hips, and her head flies backward on the pillow.

“I don’t know if you’re testing me on purpose, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I was saving my self-control for the game.”

My groin tingles.

The only self-control I’ll be practicing tonight during the game is not picturing her in nothing but my fucking jersey.

“I was testing myself,” she admits.

I pull back to peer down at her.

I want to fuck her so bad it hurts.

“Testing yourself?”

Her teeth sink into her lip again, and I wish she would stop fucking doing that. I reach up out of instinct and free it. Her eyelashes flutter. “I failed.”

I skim my hand up the side of her belly until I land at the very bottom of her breast. She’saddicting. The way her breathing picks up pace when I touch her slowly and how her eyes fill with want, even if she tries her hardest to hide it.

“You’re a woman.” I rub my finger over her nipple, and when it hardens, I burn. “And you have needs. Why not let me take care of you?”

Take care of her?

When have I ever fucking said that to a woman?

But that’s exactly what I want to do. I want to make her come over and over again until that pretty, perfect shade of pink paints her cheeks, and my name is nothing more than a wistful breath on her lips.

We could lose the game this evening, and I’d still feel like a winner knowing that I get to come home to this. To her.

My thoughts are spiraling.

My touches are lingering.

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