Page 36 of Wanna Play A Game?
“Give me your hand, Cali.”
“No. I’m sorry.”
In the dark, his green eyes look gray and stormy. “I want to sleep. Give me your hand.”
I know he could take it if he wanted to. I’m not sure why he’s even asking.
I swallow. “I don’t want to be tied up.”
“I know,” Miles says with a hint of sadness. He climbs on the bed beside me and grabs my hand in his strong one. The bed dips with his weight. He grabs something — handcuffs — out of his back pocket and stretches my arm up. He clasps the cold metal around my wrist, and panic hits me.
I try to get away, but Miles just swings his leg over my chest so his crotch is in my face and easily grabs my other hand. Against my will, my mouth waters. He handcuffs me to the bedpost.
I test the hold of the cuffs. They’re tight but not enough to hurt.
Miles climbs off me. He says softly, “My dad used to play. Guitar, that is. Before he left, he’d play for us every night. I haven’t played in a long time.”
I watch him for a bit. He looks…sad. “That must have been nice,” I say, my tone soft.
“It was.” He smiles wistfully.
My dad left too. When I was five. Then, I only saw him every few weekends. I want to say it, but the words seem frozen in my throat. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Miles returns to his seat. “Now, try to get some sleep, little shadow. There will be plenty of time to fight us tomorrow.”
Chapter 17
Sawyer
Why the fuck don’t we keep a mark or two in the basement? I’m in desperate need of a body to hurt, and so far, bunny is playing it safe.
I pace in my room, as I have been for hours. My room is similar to Miles’, but mine is messy, with vintage posters of babes from the 50s on the beach. The mess annoys Ryder and Miles so much they rarely come in here.
Jesus, Ryder will lose his shit when he finds out I’ve taken a mark without him.
I glare at my door. My skin itches, but I refuse to scratch it. Ryder thinks it’s all in my head. That I’m crazy or some shit. Well, not crazy. That I ‘don’t cope well with life changes,’ or some bullshit like that.
I kick a pile of clothes. Cali is naked. All that glorious, soft skin on display. Not a tattoo or scar on her. How delicious it would be to change that.
Goosebumps run down my arms. I don’t normally go for women. It’s not that I haven’t; I’ve just been bored with everyonewho aren’t my men. I need someone who will fight me, hurt me, and make me feel alive.
Maybe Miles is marking her right now. Scratching down her back as she rides him, drawing little whimpers of pain and pleasure from her. My dick gets hard at the idea. Jealousy also rushes through me. Why did I leave her alone with him? I want to watch.
I stop myself from running in there. I know why I left him. It’s fun to fuck with him. And I’m learning it’s fun to fuck with her, too. She fights so deliciously.
I stare at my laptop. I cloned her phone before I took her, and I’m tempted to scroll through it again. She had lots of pictures of her cat. Some texts with her coworkers. Some nasty porn. There were a bunch of deleted screenshots of messages between her and her ex. He sounds like a piece of shit. I wonder if I can use any of that. All her communication with him suddenly stopped the day she ran into us. And, of course, there was her 911 call, betraying Ryder.
Anger fills me again. I glance at her thong. It’s lying on my pillow, begging to be grabbed. I do and bring it up to my nose, inhaling.
God. It smells like sin and fear. I shudder, and my dick hardens. Why the fuck hasn’t she tried to play my game? It’s early morning, and she’s followed the rules. I didn’t peg her as someone who would do that.
Am I wrong? Did I snatch someone who curls up under pressure?
I rip my door open and march to Miles’ room. It’s locked, the fucker. He thinks that can keep me out? I raise my foot and boot the door in.
It opens with a crash, and I stride in. Cali is lying on the bed, startling up at the sound.
“You didn’t play my game, bunny.”
