Page 14 of Perfect Playbook

Where did she go?

I shake my head of the thoughts. I’ve come to expect these kinds of questions because every time I see Shay it’s like I’ve walked through a cobweb and it just takes a while to unstick myself. Being around other people will help me get out of it. It’ll help me forget Reggie’s news.

One more night. That’s all I have before I really need to make a change, and I’ll be damned if I spend tonight with a sleeping pill.

The server comes over, asking me if I want another drink. Since my texts need more correcting than usual, Ipass and head out into the circus-like gurgle of the casino, staring at my cell as I walk, scrolling through a hefty address book of Vegas contacts.

A woman wobbling along in stilettos, drunk as a skunk, bumps into me. Or maybe I bump into her.

“Sorry,” I say, looking up, but she’s already passed.

I stop walking and scan the crowd. Is Shay out tonight? It would be nice to catch up with her some more; I’d rather that than anything. Then again, if she wanted to see me, too, she would have come to the reception, and it’s hard to accept, but I’ve given us chances to reconnect since moving back to the Canyon. The RSVP never came.

I squint. There’s a sports betting bar which will be quieter. I can make some more calls or texts from there. I’ll drown this trade news for a few more hours under the thump of bass, behind the sparklers of two waitresses delivering a bottle of Moët to my table. It’s a bandage at best, but one I won’t be allowed in the months to come as I live in constant fear of being traded.

The crowd thins as my feet take me deeper into the casino. The hum of exciting energy becomes lighter on my skin because the sports bar is in the recesses of the building and it’s more for the end of the night than the start of it.

I approach a long, horseshoe-shaped bar with big screens in front. There aren’t many people here this time of night, but one catches my eye. Silky dark hair drips down the shoulder of a woman wearing a t-shirt and jeans. There’s nothing particularly special about a pair of high-top Converse in a casino full of miniskirts. And though my conscious mind swears finding Shay here wasn’t intentional, the way every inch of my skin illuminates with triumph upon finding her here has me questioning how well I know myself.

Chapter Six

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO

After my successfulJumboTron girlfriend proposal, we head back to the dorms. Shay unlocks her room while staring at me, kitten-like, seductive. I’ve never seen her like this before.

My girlfriend.

She’s mine. All mine.Only mine.

I know a man could never truly possess a woman like Shay and shouldn’t even try. She’sindependent, and more than happy in her own company. She’s strong, and I’m not surprised because I remember being intimidated by her mom. Shay appears to have inherited that dry, quick wit, gives zero fucks, and has no need to please.

I like the challenge and I’m glad I won. We both did, because this is the beginning of something special for both of us. I won’t stop until she sees it that way, too.

Shay leads me into the dark dorm room by the hand, bypassing the overhead light switch. She heads to her nightstand and clicks on the table lamp, casting a more gentle mood into the stark surroundings.

The air around us is charged with anticipation, crackling with an unspoken tension. Her eyes, pools of deep, inviting brown, hold mine in a mesmerizing gaze, drawing me closer with each heartbeat. I’ve been in her room many times but never withthisShay. This is a side she’s never let me see before.

I have to work not to let my voice waver, unsettled by the increasing voltage between us, unready for the surge I’m pretty sure will burn me this time. I’ve held my resolve previously, somehow summoning control to stop me ripping her clothes off like a heathen and taking her. But it’s too big a deal to not be intentional.

It wasn’t my intention tonight, but Shay’s wild eyes tell me it’s hers.

She walks backward with my two hands in hers, leading me to the bed with the wanting of a greedy, stalking tigress. It’s never been like this. Usually, it’s me making the moves. And me stopping things before we get ahead of ourselves… My pulse quickens. Intuition weighs heavy in my stomach. The dynamic between us has changed. The way she gazes at me has changed. The way she lures me into the darkness of her room has changed. I’ve been in this situation before and I know what it means.

Even though it would take a lifetime to discover this woman, there’s nothing mysterious about the impossible darkening of her nearly pitch-black gaze and the way she lowers one knee onto her mattress to pull me into her sacred space. I never dared let us kiss here on this small single bed made smaller by clouds of blankets and pillows. She lays her head down on a cushion that looks like a donut with sprinkles, then tugs me forward until our bodies are pressed together.

It’s both paradise and terrifying, knowing what she brought me here for. The soft warmth of her body and the gentle rolling of her hips steals my self-control. I run my hands along her curvy waist, now healthier and more womanly than when we first met. I revel in her health. In her healing. In both our healing.

I press a soft touch against her lips with my own. At the faint brush of my tongue she gives me permission to enter, our tongues dance and my involuntary groan falls into her mouth. We stroke each other, long and unhurried. But then she moans, and it vibrates through my core, quickening my heartbeat.

She raises her thigh to massage my growing shaft, already hard with anticipation. Her pace is hasty, and that feral, manly need I’ve felt so many times before and easily resisted rises like a fucking warrior inside me. My kiss morphs into a full-on devour, and I wrap my hand around her throat, her pulse races under my palm.

She spreads her legs wider so I can nestle between them, and even through the heavy fabric of my jeans, the heat of her core sends sparks to mine. I want more. I always stopped myself before, wanting more, but now… I want it all. I fucking want it all and I want to give it all to her.

It’s all I can do to lace my fingers through her hair, grip her skull, and hold on for dear life, because though her body says yes, uncertainty is still there, too. Is it coming from me? Or her? Every nerve inside me begs to rip her clothes off, pleads to be skin to skin while my mind strains to remind myself this is a big fucking deal… And then it happens… she unbuttons my pants.

Her dainty hand shoves inside them, wiggles underneath the fabric of my boxers, and when she grips my cock with those soft fingers of hers, I have to bite my lip to not explode then and there. I’ve never had her on that bare sensitive skin. I purposely stopped it to respect her, to force her to take the time to consider what this means. I know she’s a virgin.

“Do you like that?” Rarely is there so much uncertainty in her questions.

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