Page 64 of Dirty Play

“That’s my good girl,” I continue, pressing my thumb gently against her right where I know she needs it most. I rub slow, deliberate circles, making her gasp. “My cock has been missing you, too.”

Her hips jerk slightly. “Rowan, someone might—”

“Let them,” I interrupt, my voice dark and commanding as I press harder against her. “Let them see how good I make you feel.”

Her moan is muffled as I capture her lips, my kiss rough and demanding, my free hand tangling in her hair to hold her in place. She melts into me, her body going pliant, and when I finally pull back, her lips are swollen and red, her eyes glassy with want. And my dick is an inch away from poking a hole through my workout shorts.

Just as I lean in, about to steal another kiss, we hear shuffling outside the door, footsteps, and muffled voices echoing in the quiet stretching room. Panic flashes across Livia’s face, and before I can pull her back to me, she scrambles away from my reach.

“Rowan, we can’t,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. She tugs at her hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Not in here.”

“Wait.” I move towards her, but she steps back, putting distance between us. I can see the way she bites her lip, her eyes darting to the door, and I know she’s torn.

But I also see something else: the way she shifts, her body still trembling from what we just started.

“Are you really that eager to get away from me?” I tease, crossing my arms over my chest.

She takes a deep breath, and I can see the conflicting emotions swirling in her eyes.

“Rowan, listen to me,” she says, her voice regaining that strength. “People are going to start coming in. So, keep your hands and your dick to yourself unless you want to get us both in trouble.”

God, I love it when she gets like this.

But I know how she feels. That ache, that heat lingering between her legs, the ghost of my touch on her skin.

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, my mouth stretching into a smirk as I watch her dart out the door.

I let out a small grunt, and my instincts kick in. I’ve never needed to have someone this bad. I’ve never craved someone like I crave her. And after getting a taste, I need more. Much more.

My heart races, but it’s not just adrenaline; it’s a primal urge to chase after her, to have her again. Until my name is the only coherent thought she can form in that pretty head of hers.

My hellcat can run…but she can’t hide.

Chapter seventeen

~LIVIA~

I barely have time to sit down after changing back into my top and skirt before the door swings open, and in walks the 6’5 tatted NHL Captain who managed to flip my world upside down in a matter of weeks.

It’s been—what?—five minutes since his hand was buried between my leggings, his fingers circling my clit, since his voice was in my ear. And now he’s here again, standing in the doorway, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. There’s hunger in his eyes; there’s lust, and I know why he took so long to follow me. My eyes drop to the imprint of his cock, semi-hard and visible through his shorts.

I swallow hard, shifting in my seat. I still feel it between my legs. I still feel sore, and I’d be a damn liar if I said I didn’t like it.

His hoodie is stretched over his broad shoulders, shorts slung low on his hips. He looks too good. Too tempting. And when his eyes drag over me, slow and unashamed. I feel like he’s already picturing how this is going to go. But I can’t let him near me again. Not before I get the answer to the question that’s been playing on replay in my head.

“You left,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“What?” His brows lift slightly.

“This morning,” I clarify, my voice low, gripping the edge of my chair on each side of my now-bare legs. “I woke up, and you were gone.”

Rowan steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Well, I woke up, and you were right there.” His voice is lazy, amused. “Sleeping on my chest, looking like every irrational thought telling me to skip practice today. I would have loved nothing more than to have stayed, Livia.”

I study his face, unable to decide whether he’s serious or just telling me what he thinks I want to hear. But I also don’t understand why he’s still here. I gave him a piece of myself that no one else will have, and I don’t regret a second of it. But Rowan seems like the kind of man who would give you the best night of your life and pretend he doesn’t know you after that. I let him into my bed, fully knowing the kind of man he is. So why did he send me breakfast? Why is he still chasing me when I already gave him what he wanted?

Have I misjudged him? Have my prejudices gotten in the way of my assessment?

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