Page 73 of The Illicit Play
I swallow, trying not to fold at the sweet smell rising up my nose. I should not have stood so close to her. Damn, I can still feel her lips against mine. And her tongue. Holy fuck, that thing could make me do just about anything.
It took all my self-control to push her back earlier. If she hadn’t listened to me and had gone in for another kiss, I wouldn’t have been able to resist her.
You shouldn’t have resisted her. It was just a kiss!
“Wily,” I mutter under my breath. I can’t do that to Wily.
“You good, man?” Wily says to my back.
Snatching out the carton of eggs, I spin and play the role I need to. “Yeah, brah. All good.”
“Did class finish early for you today? Thought you’d eat on campus.”
“Yeah, I just… felt like coming home. Cooking you lunch. You know how it is.” I wink at him, forcing a grin and feeling like shit.
Blake’s sitting at the table opposite her brother, looking sexy as sin, and I can’t. I fucking can’t go there with her.
I really want to, though.
Damn, this is gonna be hard.
She needs to tell the truth and get the hell out of Dodge or I’m not gonna survive this shit.
But I can’t go dumping her in it, forcing her hand. That would be such a dick move when I promised to keep her secrets. So, I’m just gonna have to play this game of fucking charades and hope I don’t screw it up.
“Hey, Blake, you want to get off your ass and help the guy out?” Wily nudges her with his good leg.
“You are such a hypocrite,” she mutters.
“I’m wounded.”
“You’re full of shit,” she counters, stalking to the fridge and yanking it open. The bottles rattle in protest, and I try not to check out her ass as she bends over and pulls bell peppers and a block of cheese out of the fridge.
“Grab the baby spinach and some mushrooms too,” I direct her, then pass her a chopping block and knife.
She sets herself up at the kitchen table and gets to work, but not before placing a grater and the slab of cheese next to Wily. “I’m pretty sure you can’t screw that up.”
Wily laughs at her teasing, adjusting himself on the chair for a better angle.
We work in silence for a minute, until Wily starts humming tunes from the “Grease” soundtrack. He’s off-key and it’s fucking painful, so I cut that shit short as soon as I can.
“So, Blake, whatchu doin’ for spring break?”
Why the hell I asked that, I have no idea.
Because right now, my brain is being crowded out by one thought. One very dangerous thought that I should seriously not suggest.
Don’t do it. Don’t you dare fucking do it!
“Not sure,” she replies with a shrug. “Probably hanging out with this loser.”
“You should head back to Chicago,” he grumbles.
“I told you, I’m staying for spring break. I’ll head back after that.” Darting a look at me, she throws me a silent warning and pastes on a smile. “What are you doing?”
“I’m, uh… going hiking.”
Don’t it.
