Page 139 of Twisted Play
I knockedon the door to Alek’s office, my stomach churning. This wasn’t like before. He hadn’t ordered me here. Instead, I’d come on my own, hoping for—I didn’t allow myself to verbalize what I wanted, not even inside my head.
“Come in.” Alek looked up from his laptop, genuine surprise flickering over his face. “Eva?”
My eyes roved over his attire—a button-down shirt and slacks rather than the athletic wear he wore to practices. God, I was interrupting his workday. He hadn’t asked for me. He didn’t want me. This was so humiliating. Heat rose in my cheeks, betraying my lack of emotional equanimity.
His brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
I opened my mouth then closed it, feeling even more foolish than before. “No, never mind. I’m sorry.” The words rushed out of me, and I turned around, intending to make a quick exit.
“Eva,” he snapped.
I stopped. “Sir?” I said, my voice humiliatingly hopeful, as if I wished he could magically know what I wanted, what I needed, without me having to ask.
“Turn around.”
Reluctantly, I did as he asked, aware my cheeks were flaming, the pit in my stomach growing as his eyes raked over me, taking in my embarrassment, my trembling hands, the dark circles under my eyes, and especially how I couldn’t quite meet his gaze.
“Eva,” he rasped and scrubbed his face. “Shit.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, utterly humiliated. “I’ll go.”
“No,” he snapped, the words whipping out like a physical strike.
I flinched.
“Lock the door and come here,” he commanded.
Step by slow step, I walked over to him, my tote bag full of books heavy on my shoulder, his eyes growing darker as I moved closer.
He turned in his chair, his legs spread, and gestured for me to step between them.
“Sir,” I breathed.
Alek’s gaze turned contemplative. He leaned forward and stroked a finger down my cheek, sending a rush of need to my core.
“Strip,” he said, his voice like velvet dragging over gravel.
I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, reaching up to take my tote. “Fold your clothes neatly.”
As if I would ever do anything else.
I unzipped my hoodie, shivering as the cold air swept across my collarbones.
“Second thoughts?” he asked softly.
The air was cold against my bare skin as I removed my bra and panties, adding them to the neat pile. I fought the urge to cover myself, to hide from his assessing gaze. His tablet sat on the desk beside me, screen dark. Carter’s threats echoed in my head.
“Kneel,” he said simply.
I knelt beside him, spreading my knees slightly, hands clasped behind my back. Alek let me sit there for long moments as I cleared my mind.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Coffee, baby girl.”
I rose gracefully, or tried to. My nudity made me hyperaware of every movement. The espresso machine’s heat felt obscene against my bare skin as I measured beans into the grinder.
Alek didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to. His gaze was a physical weight as I moved through the familiar ritual. Grind the beans. Heat the water. Pull the shot.
