Page 43 of The Players

I felt like a live wire, or a match ready to combust. I bit my lip and dipped my head down once.

His hand slid over my skin, brushing against my nipple which sent a current of electricity racing over my body. I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation.

“You like it,” he purred. “Of course you do.”

I kept my eyes closed, reveling in the feeling. There was no thought, no logic, only sensation as Easton gripped both breasts and gave me more pleasure than I’d thought possible.

He leaned in, his lips skimming my neck. “You’re mine now,” he whispered.

What was he saying? No, that was over the line. He was too smug, too certain he could control me. I pulled back, groping for my bra. “Enough. You got what you wanted, now tell me what you promised.”

My brain was still singing, and the tingles were still tripping up and down my skin, but this was Easton Hill. I couldn’t let him know how much he affected me. He would use it against me. I knew it like I knew my own name.

I was his? That couldn’t be good.

He sat back as his expression turned darker. “Fine. Savannah has had run-ins with the law. There are records of it if you know where to look.”

“Where can I look?”

He shook his head, his finger wagging back and forth. “Ah, ah, ah. For that information, you’ll have to pay.”

“And do what?” I asked, suddenly realizing this had all gone too far. “No. No. You’ve not told me anything. Tell me where to find the information I need.”

He pulled his hands off my legs and leaned back, making me long for his closeness, but I knew reaching for him now would be my undoing. “Nice try, orphan. I’m the one giving the orders around here, not you.”

Orphan. There it was again. That nasty nickname. I found my sweater and pulled it over my head. “You’re just using me, Easton. There’s probably cameras in here filming this. You're going to show the guys, or the whole school or…” I stood up. Were there cameras? How could I have been so stupid?

He stood. He watched me rummage around for my things. When I went for the door, he called out, “Vivian.”

I whirled and looked at him. He seemed… at war with himself.

“What?”

He paused and shook his head. “Nothing. Get out.”

Get out? I stared at him, waiting for… I don’t know. Something. Anything.

He waited, standing as if he were waiting for some part of him, his better angels perhaps to show him what to do. Instead, he fixed me with a look and said nothing.

“If you have a tape and show it to anyone, you’ll be sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“I don’t have a tape.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then…”

He put his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.”

I grabbed my bag and ran out the door before something inside me made me turn around and rush back into his arms.

Chapter eighteen

You’reminenow.

Easton had growled it into my neck as we…

---