Page 97 of Play Me
A breeze kicks up as my hands inch toward the dark sky. Gray licks his lips and reaches for the hem of his shirt. I gasp as his fingertips dust across my stomach and up my sides as he draws the fabric up and off me.
He balls it in his hand and then tosses it deeper into the truck bed. His eyes never leave me.
“You have no clue how gorgeous you are, do you?” he asks, as if he can’t quite believe it himself.
“I know that I lost my shirt and you’re still wearing yours.”
He grins. “You’ve seen me shirtless before.”
“Yeah, but I hated you then.”
His laughter makes me smile, too.
“Turn around,” he says.
“But your shirt—ah.”
He captures my words with his mouth, his lips commanding mine to open. His tongue slides past them with authority. There’s no rush, no urgency … like we have all night.
“There,” he whispers as he pulls away, nipping my bottom lip in the process. “I finally figured out how to shut you up.”
I yelp, touching the center of my mouth.
“Let’s remember something,” he says, taking a step back. “I’m in control.”
“Okay, I did say that. But?—”
“No buts. Now turn around.”
I shiver against the wind as I turn my back to Gray. His reflection in the back glass of the truck grows closer to me. Still, I’m not ready for the feeling of his hands against my bare skin, gathering my hair and laying it over my right shoulder.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he whispers against the shell of my ear.
He works the snaps of my bra deftly and lets it fall forward. I catch it at my chest, pressing it against my thundering heart. I’m aware of every breath, every groan of the truck, every flicker of the stars. It’s all too much yet not enough.
Gray moves away from me, pulling my bra from my hands. “Let me see you.”
My nipples are hard against the cooling temperature. I cup my breasts in my hands, pulling them up and toward mysternum. They’re full and heavy in my palms as I pivot to face him.
“Drop your hands,” he says.
I look up at him through my lashes while my arms drop to my sides.
His tongue swipes along his bottom lip. “You’re un-fucking-believable.”
“And you still have your shirt on.”
He grins. “Shoes off.”
I comply, willing to do whatever it takes to speed this along. The ache in my core is overwhelming, and my panties are soaked. I need him inside me like I need my next breath, and this joker seems to think we have all the time in the world.
“Good girl,” he says, teasing me. “Now let’s work on getting you out of these jeans.”
“Yes. Let’s.”
He chuckles, reaching for my button and zipper. “I have to figure out a way to keep you this cooperative.”
“Well, depending on how tonight goes, I might be able to give you some tips by morning.”
