Page 72 of Twisted Play
A horn honked outside, and I flew down the stairs, stopping in front of a mirror in the entranceway to check my reflection one last time—cool, calm, and collected, the only sign of my stress my slightly flushed cheeks.
“Going out, Dad!” I called, hoping to avoid a conversation with him. I couldn’t, not after the visit from Carter.
He leveraged himself up from the couch, groaning in pain. I rushed over to help him. “Dad,” I whispered. “Sit.”
Dad looked down at me with affection shining in his eyes. “Sweet girl,” he murmured. “You do so much for me.”
Messy emotions swirled through me—a toxic miasma of love, resentment, and hopelessness as I helped my father walk to the window, where he peeked out the curtain.
“Something you want to tell me?” he asked with a smile.
I pressed my lower lip between my teeth, not sure what to say and unwilling to share my confusion over Tristan Baptiste.
Tristan climbed out of his car, and I rushed out the door, eager to avoid the initial meeting between him and my dad. There’d be no pretending I didn’t like him after that—not that I was pretending, not really.
Tristan opened the door for me, and I slid into the seat, not as gracefully as I would have liked.
“You look good,” he said, leaning over me to buckle mein, not even pretending he wasn’t using it as an excuse to run his fingers over my stomach, my thighs, my side.
My heart sped up as goosebumps spread over my skin.
“And you wore a sundress,” he murmured. “Fucking temptation personified.”
I lifted my chin. “I don’t dress for you.”
He bent forward to brush his lips against mine in a move so sweet, I didn’t know how to react except to kiss him back. I tangled my fingers in his curls, loose for once instead of in tight braids, and held him to me before nibbling on his lip, his gasp of pleasure zipping straight to my clit like a bolt of electricity.
Tristan smiled against my lips then pulled away from me. Then he came back for a hard press of his lips against mine.
“Gonna give you everything you deserve,” he said, his golden eyes bright. “Starting with coffee.”
Cole
Well? Let me see.
Me
I’m in the car. Fuck off.
My phone pinged again, this time in the group chat Tristan had created for him, Cole, and me. It sat mostly silent—my relationship with each of them was separate.
Cole
Sparrow, take a picture.
Tristan’s eyes flipped to the message where it slid down over his GPS.
He took his eyes away from the road to look at me,surprise darkening his eyes. “What is going on between you two?”
Your best friend is blackmailing me for blow jobs in exchange for not telling anyone I’m sharing information on the team with his father, who is also blackmailing me.
I opened my mouth to tell Tristan how fucked up Cole was, but I couldn’t choke the words out of my throat. I didn’t have the right to fuck up their friendship—not when I was already so close to ruining so many lives to save my father’s.
When I didn’t say anything, Tristan ran his hand up my leg. “Did you wear this dress for me, or for him?”
How could I even begin to answer that?
He yanked the car over to the side and aggressively parked before snatching his phone off its holder. With his hand so high on my thigh, you could almost see my panties. He held the phone up high enough to catch the view of my bare legs in the frame.
