Page 55 of Power Play

I stumble at the insistent tug on my elbow. A lock of hair falls along my forehead as I shake my head in amusement. Randi leads us through the swarm of people, talking a thousand words a second over her shoulder as she points up at the bright billboards with the hand not pulling me along.

Maybe I should send Shawn a thank-you card for helping me see that Rachel and I were a forced fit. It sucked at the time, yes, and hell, it still does at night when I fall asleep horny and alone. My poor dick hasn't felt anything other than my own hand in way too long.

My gaze falls to Randi’s round ass accentuated by the draping material of the soft sweatpants. At my back, someone stumbles in to me, shoving me forward. Our feet tangle, her loud gasp barely audible above the other noise on the street. I wrap both arms around her waist, lifting her off the sidewalk and tucking her close to my chest. A couple intentional steps forward and I'm once again steady on my feet. But still I don't drop her. Instead, I tug her closer, the crease of her ass cradling my hardening cock.

Fuck, she feels fantastic, and this is with clothes on.

Her chest expands and shrinks in rapid succession beneath my forearms.

Around us the crowd shuffles, ignoring our tight embrace. Oblivious to my internal battle to not fuck her against the nearest wall. The need to take her, to make her scream my name, increases every day we're together, every second more torturous than the last. I shouldn't want her. Not because of her background or her lack of wealth but because she's the job. My job is to protect her, keep her safe, and here I am unable to think beyond the way my dick feels pressed against her.

This is a terrible idea, but I can't stop. I don’t want to stop.

I want her, all of her, every inch and every breath begging for me.

“Trey?” Wiggling in my hold, she rotates to dip her head back, hazel eyes finding mine.

“Randi.”

“Um, I can't really, you know, breathe here.”

Shit.

“Sorry,” I grumble and ease my hold, savoring the slide of her body against mine. “You ready to get out of here? Head back?”

The excitement and joy falls from her face.

“Do we have to?” she asks, looking to the sidewalk. I stare at her hat-covered head, not understanding what just happened to flip her mood. “If you're worried about the crowd, we can go somewhere else.” Pushing to her tiptoes, she looks right, left, over her shoulder, and then over mine, looking back down the street. “Where's Central Park?”

Reaching out, I interlace our fingers and meet her hopeful gaze. “Come on, Mess. It's this way.”

With the hustle of the crowd behind us, I flex my fingers to release her hand, but hers tighten, keeping my hand clasped.

Okay then.

Stepping over a line, but that’s okay. She probably needs to feel safe as we navigate the streets of New York City, and holding my hand like a drowning victim does a life preserver offers that sense of safety. I should not read into the simple gesture. Which I'm not, except my semi isn't listening, and it's fucking chafing the hell out of the tip.

“You seem like you’ve been here before,” Randi says beside me. Her head is on a swivel, taking in every building and storefront.

“I have—several times, in fact—but I'll tell you something, Mess. It's a different experience with you.”

I smirk at her responding snort. “Mess? Is that what you're calling me now?”

I shrug and look away so she doesn’t catch my smile.

“I should be offended, yet it fits. I'll allow it. And you know you use that word a lot when you describe me.”

“Mess?”

“No, different.”

“Ah.” I tug her to a stop to keep from being run over by a speeding taxi. “It’s the best way I can describe it. It's a good thing though, so you know. It's… vibrant.”

“Vibrant.”

I shake my head. “It's hard to explain. I've seen the world through a certain lens for thirty-eight years, and then you come along and turn things from versions of gray to full of color. Full of life. I've never known someone who sees the world for what it is and not what they can get from it.”

I glance down to gauge her reaction only to find her head down, the bill of the hat blocking her face from view. A quiet sniffle meets my listening ears. Another has me tugging her to a stop, but still she keeps her face down. Bending my knees, I lower a few inches, putting me at her level. Two fingers beneath her chin, I tilt her face to meet mine.

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