Page 151 of The Faking Game

He kisses me again, and his finger slowly pumps in rhythm with the motion of his thumb.

“You can take another one for me,” he says. I nod against his lips, and the burn sharpens when he slides another finger in. “That’s it. You’re doing so good, sweetheart.”

I breathe deeply, and the stretch turns into pleasure, sweet and heady. “I packed the vibrator. The big one,” I say. “You said you won’t… oh my god… you won’t help me have sex… But can you help prepare me for it?”

His fingers pause inside me, his thumb stilling on my clit.

Every single muscle in his body is locked tight. Like I’ve punched him.

“West?”

“I’ve never argued with anyone like you,” he says, and his fingers curl inside me. “You know just how to twist the knife, don’t you?”

“I’m not trying to… oh!” A surprised sound escapes me, because his fingers are doing something new, that curved, stroking motion, and I slide my hands down his back.

West winces.

I immediately pull my hands away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says. He bends to kiss my neck, and his finger keeps moving inside me. “Keep your hands locked around my neck.”

“You’re hurt,” I say. The way he winced earlier tonight, too…. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” I reach down and grab his wrist between my legs. It’s firm beneath my grip, but I manage to still it. “Have you gotten it checked out?”

“It’s fine. Knocked into one of the rock walls while river rafting.” West’s dark eyes search mine. His pupils are blown out wide, and he looks like pain is the only thing he can feel. “There’s nothing I want more right now than to make you come and forget about anyone else. That bartender, your future?—”

I push at his chest, and he pulls out of me with a frown. The sudden lack of his fingers is startling. “Let me look at it.”

“No,” he says.

“What do you mean no?”

“If you get injured, you lose the challenge,” he says. “You lose the chip. I’m fine. It’ll heal.”

I jump off the dresser. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Those are the rules.”

“Well, I don’t accept.” I’m still on edge, but I’m annoyed now too. “If you won’t let me fix you up, then you don’t get to make me come.”

His jaw works as he looks at me. But I just stare right back at him. I’m not intimidated by West Calloway’s stares anymore. There’s high color on his cheeks, and his hair is mussed from my hands. The top button of his shirt has come undone, too. If he walked back out like this, there’d be little doubt that something had happened to him.

Back out. To the others… including my brother.

We’ve been gone for too long already.

I pull my dress down, and his eyes track the movement. “I’m going back out there. I’m going to drink a few more drinks, maybe chat with Thiago a bit more.”

“Don’t say his name,” West says.

“Why? Are you jealous?” I give him a sweet smile. “I’m only doing what you’ve taught me. What you’ve told me to do.”

“You’ll have to go out first.” He reaches down and palms himself through his pants. “Second time today. My balls are gonna be fucking aching.”

“You know there’s someone here willing to fix that for you. As soon as you let me look at your injury.” I open the door. “It’s up to you, Calloway.”

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