Page 17 of Play the Game

“No. We’re best friends. There are...” she trailed off.

I smiled and traced a finger down her cheek. “Rules? I think the rules between friends are whatever they want them to be.”

“And what about the rules of HEAT? Those are ironclad.”

I shrugged. “They’ve been tested before.”

“Kessler and Derek,” she said, referring to Derek Chase, who had been one of HEAT’s best tactical operatives, and his torrid affair with the woman he’d brought into the agency and trained, our own Cynthia Kessler.

“It worked out for them,” I reminded her. “I’ve never seen either of them happier.”

“Yes, because he was ready to leave HEAT anyway, so he resigned.” She frowned. “I love my job. I don’t want to resign. Do you?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t argue with her logic. But I had to try because I was desperate to kiss her again and this time, have her melt into my arms. “What if there were no rules, just for one night?” She started to shake her head. “No, hear me out. Tam, we’re all alone here. Off the grid. No one monitoring us. Not HEAT, not the Carbonados. We’re following orders, lying low in this hotel, and making the world believe we’re a couple. What if, until we leave in the morning, we throw out the rules? Kiss if we want to kiss, for as long as we want to do it. Do more if that’s what we want. Stop whenever we please.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Or don’t stop at all.”

Her beautiful brown eyes were wide. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. I ran my finger over the spot and scooted closer to her, leaving just inches between us. I was close enough to smell her minty toothpaste and feel her body heat.

“Maybe,” she whispered, and that one word turned my whole world upside down. “But I do have one rule.”

I grinned because, of course, she did. “For once, I’ll try to comply. What’s your rule, Sparks?”

“Last time, I kissed you.” She touched her fingertips to my lips. “So, this time, you have to kiss me first.”

I pulled her body to mine, anchoring us from breastbone to toes, and bent my head toward hers. This was one rule I would enthusiastically obey, and I didn’t need to be told twice.

CHAPTER 7

Tamela

Jason’s bodywas pressed to mine. We fit together perfectly. A small alarm bell went off in my brain, but it was so small and so far away, and Jason was right here and felt so good. He didn’t hesitate, but he didn’t rush, either. He slowly and deliberately removed my headscarf, then cupped my cheek. He stroked my lower lip with his thumb again, sending shockwaves through me.

I gripped his shoulder, willing him to come closer. Inch by inch, his face moved toward mine. The wait was excruciating but also thrilling. He pressed his mouth to mine, then ran his tongue over the seam of my lips. I parted for him, and he deepened the kiss. I sighed into his mouth, lost in the sensation I’d fantasized about for so long. The reality was even better.

I had no idea how long we stayed that way, twined in each other’s arms, exploring each other’s mouths while our hands wandered over arms, backs, hips, and necks. My lips and fingers were discovering him in a whole new way and memorizing every inch of him. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more of him.

He ran his hand up my side, over my shirt, brushing the underside of my breast. His fingertips stroked my nipple through the fabric. I moaned again and arched into him. He made no move to undress me or touch me skin to skin. I was on fire for him, and his slow, sensual teasing was making me burn hotter than I ever had with anyone else.

I slipped my hand under his shirt. He flinched when my fingers skimmed over his belly, and I stopped.

“Just ticklish,” he said against my mouth. “Please don’t stop.”

I ran my hand over his flat abs and up to his chest. Staying in shape was part of our jobs, even for the IT crew, and his body was lean and strong under my touch. My fingertips skimmed over his chest hair and lingered over the thrum of his heartbeat. Now he moaned and arched into me. I reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged. He shifted so I could lift it over his head, then wrapped his hand in my hair as I kissed a path across his chest, flicking my tongue over each of his nipples in turn, showing him what I desperately needed him to do to me.

Following my unspoken cues, he gently rolled me onto my back, then pulled off my shirt. He stared down at me like he couldn’t look away. His eyes were hooded, his lips parted, and I needed his mouth on me. I arched my back. He cupped my breasts in his hands and stroked my nipples. I groaned at the release of tension as he gave me what I needed, but within seconds, I needed more.

I sat up, and he spread my legs so he could kneel between them. With one arm behind my back and one hand on my ass, he pulled me up onto his lap and sucked a nipple into his mouth. I gasped and ground against his dick, so hard and ready, between my legs. The friction of the fabric shot jolts of pleasure into my clit, and I rode him until my body was taut and trembling, aching with sheer pleasure but also the pain of needing another release. He teased my nipples with his tongue and teeth and slipped his hand under my shorts, gripping my bare ass with his hand and setting a faster rhythm that made my pussy clench and spasm. The orgasm hit fast and spread faster, out to my limbs, my fingers, and my toes.

I fell back, panting. He pulled my shorts down over my legs and tossed them on the floor. He stared down at me hungrily, and in an instant, I needed him to touch me again. I stroked his dick through his shorts. He tilted his head back and groaned.

“Off,” I whispered raggedly, barely recognizing my own voice. I slipped my hand under his waistband and stroked my finger across the wet drop on his tip.

With a grunt, he shifted and pushed off his shorts. I wrapped my hand around his shaft. This was what I did to him. He panted and licked his lips and moaned.

“Wait,” he said. He shifted out of my reach. “I’m so close. I’ll go so fast.”

I bent my knees, then guided his hand back between my legs and pressed it against my wet folds. “So will I.”

He stroked my clit and slid two fingers inside me. I spread my legs farther apart and met his strokes. He inched his hips closer to me. I settled my hand back on his shaft, twirling my fingers across his head, then pumping him with long, hard strokes. We matched our rhythms as if he was sinking his dick deep inside me. God, I wanted that, needed that, but first, I needed this. The pressure building in my clit was unbearable. Already, my pussy was pulsing with the first wave of my next orgasm. And he was harder and bigger in my hand, so close to losing control.

---