Page 80 of Dirty Play

“Rowan!” I cry out, my inner walls trembling as I reach my peak, the waves of pleasure crashing over me, leaving me breathless.

“Fuck, that’s it!” he exhales, his grip on me tightening, his own release not far behind.

Then he groans, his head thrown back, and I can feel him filling me, his pleasure mixing with mine in an intoxicating rush. I feel his cock swell and then spill, hot and heavy inside me. It’s a moment that makes me lose all of my body function. I go limp as the waves of satisfaction rock through me. Rowan squeezes my ass and lifts it up and down on himself, filling me up with every ounce of his pleasure.

Chapter twenty

~ROWAN~

Livia’s still asleep when I wake up.

For a few seconds, I don’t move. I just lie there, one arm under my head, staring at her. Her face is half-buried in my pillow, her lips slightly parted, her hair a mess from last night. She looks peaceful and soft in a way I’ve only seen once before—the morning I woke up in her bed.

And just like then, I can’t fucking stop looking at her.

This woman, this sharp-mouthed, relentless, painfully brilliant woman, is in my bed. I should be satisfied. Mission accomplished, right? She’s here. But that’s not enough. I don’t want her just to be here. I want her to stay.

This wasn’t part of the plan. Livia wasn’t supposed to get under my skin like this. She wasn’t supposed to look this good wrapped up in my sheets, making my bed smell like her. She wasn’t supposed to make me feel secure enough to open up about my parents. She wasn’t supposed to make me feel like I’d burn the world down for her.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face.

I need to clear my head. The clause was supposed to help me get rid of her. Now, it’s the one thing that stops me from letting the whole world know she’s mine. And not because I’m worried about myself; I could care less. I’m worried abouther—aboutall the dreams I want her to accomplish.

My phone buzzes. I slide out of bed and grab it off the nightstand.

ARES:Pulling up to your place. Make coffee.

Shit.

I pull on a pair of sweatpants and head downstairs.

The second I hear the doorbell, I swing the door open. Ares steps in, dressed in his usual black hoodie and joggers.

“It’s not a good time, Ares,” I say, hoping to get him out of here fast.

“Really,” he says, stepping around me and heading straight for the kitchen. “Tell me how badly you fucked up.”

“I didn’t fuck up.” My jaw ticks.

“If there’s nothing to discuss, I’ll take my coffee outside then.” Ares raises an eyebrow before pushing off the counter.

“Okay, wait, fuck…” I stop him. He always knows how to make people talk.

“I’m listening,” he urges, looking at me like he already knows.

“She’s upstairs,” I say, looking right at him.

“I know,” he shoots before I have the chance to close my mouth. “So, what’s the issue? The plan’s to get her to fuck you and get her fired.”

“I know the plan,” I grit out, not knowing how to explain to him that I don’t want her gone anymore.

Ares leans back against the counter, watching me with that too-knowing look. “You caught feelings?” he asks, and I shoot him a glare.

Yeah, I caught something, alright. Something dangerous. Something that makes it clear to me that I have to erase that whole damn plan, pretend it never existed.

But before I can say that to him, footsteps sound from the stairs.

I glance up, and my stomach fucking drops.

---