Page 81 of Play the Game

And my body knows it.

My lips tingle with the thought of his mouth on mine, and every time he touches me, whether it's for show or not, I find myself having to ignore the twisting in my stomach that lingers for far too long.

“Enjoying the show?” His voice is deep and husky.

What would it feel like to have his rough whisper skim my skin?

I haven’t been touched in so long.

Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever been touched in the way I know Emory Olson touches someone.

There’s a possessiveness to his grip that could trick any woman into thinking he’d do anything to keep her.

And I crave it.

I crave it so much that my legs shake.

I can see his flickering muscles even though I refuse to look at what his hand is doing. He bounces his eyes back and forth between mine, waiting for my answer.

“I just needed toothpaste.” Warmth coats me from my head all the way down to my toes. My voice comes out like a soft flutter, and when my teeth unknowingly sink into my lower lip, Emory’s eyes light up.

I turn away, leaving my toothbrush hostage. I take one step but stop when his voice floats around the steamy bathroom.

“Don’t go now,” he grunts. “It’s just getting good.”

Oh, my god.

Go, Scottie.

He’s tempting you on purpose!

My feet are glued to the floor, and I pretend I can’t hear my subconscious's pleas through Emory’s throaty noises.

This is so bad.

I’m not going to be able to look him in the eye come tomorrow morning.

But I swear I feel his grip on me tighten.

I turn around hesitantly, and he immediately gets ten times more attractive while stroking himself.

He slowly raises his eyebrow at me, as if he’s surprised. I raise my chin, and it’s too late to leave now. If I run, he’ll know how much of an effect he has on me.

If he touches me, he’ll know too.

“Want to know what I’m thinking about, Scottie?” he asks breathlessly.

I’m afraid to know.

I’m suffocated by the hot tension between us every time we’re together, but it’s hard to know if he feels that way too. For all I know, Emory is getting off on tricking me into thinking he finds me attractive. Hedoeslove to irritate me.

My breathing turns from slightly erratic to sharp and fast. I reach behind me and grip the edge of the vanity to steady myself after he swipes his forearm against the foggy glass. There’s a throb in between my legs that pounds with each beat of my heart. Sweat prickles my neck, and I know Emory has noticed how captivated I am.

“You do want to know, don’t you? I can tell by the look in your eye.”

Typically, I’d argue with him. I’d tell him he doesn’t know anything about me, but he’s right.

I want to know if he’s still thinking about the other night like I am.

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