Page 9 of Wicked Games We Play
CHAPTERFOUR
He never texted me back.
Sometimes he kept me waiting a few minutes, other times a few hours, but never this long. It had been four days since I sent him a picture of me in my new white lace bra, and he kept me hanging.
That bastard.
Clicking the button on my phone for the sixtieth time this afternoon, I noted it was now 12:47 p.m., which was approximately two minutes since I had checked my phone last, and thirteen minutes until I was off work for the day. I absolutely loved working with Mrs. Landry at her floral shop, but I was growing tired of the snickers that such a job produced.
“Lily, you work at a flower shop? How cute is that?”
“Aww, Lily the florist! That’s the best.”
“What a perfect job for a woman named Lily!”
The fake smile constantly glued to my face was exhausting. It was time for me to get a big-girl job and I knew it. I just wasn’t sure what all that meant exactly. I had tossed around the idea of opening up my own home decor boutique, but once again my self-confidence hindered me. Could I own a business? Was I smart enough for that? Dedicated enough for that? What if it failed?
The questions that kept me up at night were the ones that held me back, but I couldn’t stop obsessing over the thought of my own brick and mortar boutique. Maybe someday.
Mrs. Landry slowly moved from behind the cash wrap and over to where I was creating a custom bouquet for the man thumbing through the greeting cards. I had pricked myself twice on a thorn from the rose I was fiddling with, growing more frustrated as I arranged and rearranged the order of the flowers. Mrs. Landry propped her cane against the counter and stared at me through her extremely thick bifocals. She reached out, taking the arrangement from my grasp.
“Here, dear, allow me,” she cooed. “Why don’t you go get ready to head out for the day and go get that sweet little boy of yours?”
“Are you sure I can’t finish that up first, Mrs. Landry?” I asked politely, although I was already retreating.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear.” She turned away from me, focusing on the task at hand, expertly placing the flowers so they flowed beautifully before she leaned forward to grab a pink velvet ribbon to tie them with. I smiled before I turned on my heel and made my way into the back room to grab my purse. As I stepped through the threshold, a coolness enveloped me. The back room doubled as the giant walk-in refrigerator that we kept extra flowers in, as well as our lunches and other belongings.
The bell over the door chimed when I left the shop and the hot summer air overwhelmed me, lodging thickly in my throat. Pulling the sunglasses from the top of my head, I slid them onto my face before finally turning my attention to the hustle and bustle around me. My eyes didn’t wander far, instantly catching on the six-foot something, devastatingly handsome man leaning against his car with his arms and legs crossed. Noah wore plain, dark dress clothes and leaned against a blacked-out SUV, clearly on duty still.
He licked his bottom lip, his gaze washing over my body, and I offered him the same response in return. My body flooded with a heat that I knew had nothing to do with the weather.
I had about two seconds to decide if I was going to engage or be defiant. He had ghosted me, after all.
Defiance won, and I began my trek up the road to my car. I took all of three steps before I felt his presence behind me. My eyes peeked at the enormous shadow his body cast behind me, and I bit down on my lip to keep myself from smiling. I could feel him on my heels, his one stride to my three, and my curiosity grew with every movement.
I quickly gave in. I was never good at our games when we were face to face. “What do you want, Noah?” I taunted.
He said nothing as we approached the corner of the street and I reached out to push the button attached to the light pole. It was a habit that I couldn’t seem to break, even though those buttons were merely a ruse to make people think they had control over when they could cross the road.
Before my hand dropped back to my side, Noah caught my wrist and pressed a kiss to the inside before pulling me away from the street corner and into a small alcove of the building next to us.
Pressing me against the concrete building, he dipped his head so that his mouth was parallel to my ear. The scent of sandalwood, gunpowder, and something I couldn’t quite pinpoint, wafted around me, making me feel heady. His scent alone had my desire pooling, dampening my panties and making me squirm against his body, which was now fully pressed against me. We were in broad daylight, yet the entire world seemed to fade away. Noah trailed his lips against my earlobe before nuzzling his nose against my cheek. My body stilled, his movements capturing my full attention.
“Hello, Flower. I’ve missed you,” he rasped, nuzzling his nose lazily against my ear. He was crowding my space, and I felt my willpower crumble beneath his soft touches.
“What do you want, Noah?” I repeated, my words slurred and soft.
“You,” he stated simply, capturing my hand with his and lacing our fingers together. This man could easily turn me into a pile of mush if I let him. I had already begun to melt.
“Aren’t you on duty?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, I’m sure it would please the department to know you’re at least twenty minutes outside of your jurisdiction groping innocent bystanders in the middle of the sidewalk,” I deadpanned.
He scoffed at that; a low rumble of laughter caught in his throat. “We’re not in the middle of the sidewalk. We’re against a building, Flower.”
His constant use of the nickname I never wanted or asked for stirred something deep within me. I definitely would not call it satisfaction. Nope. Irritation, perhaps, but not satisfaction.
