Page 78 of Play the Game

Her brows snap together. “What are you doing?”

I shrug. “Changing.”

“In front of me?” Her voice grows squeakier, and I bask in the control I’ve gained.

“You’re my wife…” My lip curves. “Of course.”

Scottie gawks at our surroundings. She seems surprised that she’s in the locker room, like she followed me in here with one thing on her mind, and that was reprimanding me for the nickname.

After the surprise vanishes from her face, she seemingly falls back into fighter mode. Her arms cross, and she pulls her shoulders back. My smirk deepens, waiting for her next move.

I love messing with her.

“You can drop the act. No one is in here.”

She’s so tempting when she’s angry. The way her nose scrunches and how her chin becomes mighty. I find myself moving closer to her to erase the space between us. I tell myself it’s to make her independence waiver a little, but I know better.

This isn’t for her.

It’s for me.

I want to touch her even if I keep denying it.

In fact, the more I deny it, the worse it gets.

“And what if I told you there was someone in here?” I tease, keeping my voice as level as possible. There’s a slight husk to it that I hope she can’t hear, because it’ll blow my cover. I’m used to taking what I want, and although she’s technically mine, I shouldn’t go there.

“There isn’t,” she counters.

I move closer and feel the hesitation coming off of her in waves. Before she can have a second thought, I wrap my arm around her lower back and pull her in close.

I’m shirtless and thankful that I kept my lower half covered, because I’m about to sport something I can’t hide.

As if I can summon an angel, I hear something from the hallway. I know we’re about to be interrupted by someone, and I take that as my cue to push this a little further.

My heart skyrockets when I skim my hand up her body and grip the side of her face. Excitement rushes through my body when she doesn’t pull away.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

I feel her relax in my grip, and my stomach dips. Her eyelids droop lazily as I stroke her cheek with the pad of my thumb.

Does she like my hands on her?

“Being your husband,” I say nonchalantly. The teasing tone I had is gone, and now, I’m sucked in.

The way she peers at me through fluttering eyelashes punches me in the chest. I want to kiss her so badly and for all the wrong reasons.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see the door opening, so I act swiftly.

I kiss her hard, and it’s just as blinding as the first time.

I can’t breathe, and my heart fucking stops.

My tongue strokes against hers, and I know I’m not imagining it when she mimics the movement. The grip I have on her waist tightens, and I bring our bodies flush.

I should stop, but I can’t.

I deepen the kiss and open my eyes to watch. When my teeth sink into her plump bottom lip, her eyes flutter apart, and I can no longer deny the urge I have to make her mine. When I finally let up on her mouth, we both turn to look at our audience.

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