Page 16 of Convict's Game
Damn it. Damn my heart for skipping a beat, and other parts of me for readying with need. It was unreasonable for him to have such an attractive voice, let alone say words that sparked fireworks in my belly.
My brain was broken. All I was certain of was that I wanted the call to continue, which considering my goal for being here, meant I really needed to hang up.
I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at the screen. The strange number gave me nothing. Yet I couldn’t end the call. I wanted to see his expression while we spoke. Or if he really was on a bed and missing a shirt.
“Send me a photo for proof.”
I was insane for this, but the distraction was helping.
Convict uttered a strangled laugh. “What kind?”
“Any that you’re willing to send.”
“You’re asking for a dick pic?”
I couldn’t reply.
He filled the space. “Going to need an answer if I’m putting my junk on the internet.”
“Y-yes?”
The line went silent for so long, I checked the phone.
He’d disconnected. My heart sank.
But then, a video call landed on my screen. Breathless, I tapped to answer. His face came into view, and I exhaled stark attraction. He was in a bed, his messy dark hair against a white pillow. The glow of a lamp made him golden, even if there was menace in his eyes.
Convict watched me for a long moment. “Let’s play a game. This hand is a claw machine. Direct my camera. Left, right, up, or all the way down.”
Holy shit. I couldn’t resist a game. “Down.”
He panned the camera to his bare chest, over scrawls of dark inkwork. It stopped.
“Little to the left.”
It centred over his sternum.
“Keep going down,” I whispered.
Ridges of ab muscles were next. They flexed as he breathed.
A wave of heat swept through me. This was insanely hot. “Don’t stop. Down.”
Convict made an off sound, and the camera jolted still. “Sorry. You’re out of credit.”
I burst out with a laugh which I stifled.
“Kidding. You get a free go.”
“Down, boy, down.”
The camera view finally settled on his shorts that covered a thick bulge.
My heart pounded. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. “Grab.”
He palmed it with his free hand like I’d caught the prize in his game.
“This is what you do to me, sweetheart. Your voice, your pretty face, my imagination of what you’re wearing under that oversized hoodie. I woke to thoughts of a cute girl locked away in that room, and instead of just doing this, I needed to ask permission first.”
