Page 62 of In The Game

“You really don’t feel anything anymore?” My eyes search hers for a sign.

She shrugs. “I spent a lot of time hating you. It’s hard to forget, even if the hatred was misplaced.”

Feels like I’m taking a puck to the side. “Do you feelanyattraction toward me?”

“I mean… yeah, but—”

Thank God.I stand and fold my arms across my chest. “But what?”

She rises off the couch and plays with her hair while she paces. “Of course I’m attracted to you. I mean, look at you.” She turns on her heel and gestures at me.I can work with this.“Youhaven’t changed at all. ButI have, I don’t resemble my old self at all. It’s not like it used to be.”

I drop my hands. That’s such shit.

“You look better than I remember.”

“Well,I rememberevery compliment you said about my body that night. And every single one of those things is no longer true. I’m not the same person you were attracted to then.”

I toss my chin up. “Show me.”

“What?”

I grab her hand and pull her toward the hallway.

“Which one of these is yours?”

“Barrett, no!” she whisper-scolds, trying not to wake our son.

I make a guess on the door at the end and feel around for a light switch. When I find it, the lamps on each nightstand illuminate the bedroom in a soft glow. After pulling her inside and toeing the door shut, I engage the lock on the knob.

I take a moment to survey the space. This is hers. The ceiling is vaulted, and crisp-white walls make the dusty-blue upholstered headboard on her bed the main focus of the room. I cross the wood floor to the walk-in closet and open the door, thankful to see a full-length mirror on the backside.

Perfect.

I swing it open and sit on the floor in front of it, pulling her down with me. I place her between my open legs.

My gaze meets her in the mirror’s reflection. “Show me what’s different.”

She looks pissed. “This is stupid.”

“I’m really fucking tired of the way you talk about yourself.”

“Fine, but you asked for it. Everything is different! My stomach, my thighs, my boobs, everything!”

“Show me.”Risky.She flinches at the rigor in my voice. I’m over this attitude.I know her body is different, but what she views as unfavorable, I see as mouthwatering.

“No.”

I shake my head. “Well, one thing hasn’t changed, you’re still a fucking brat. I want you to see what I do. Take it off, or I promise you your punishment will be far worse than stripping for me.”

She begins to stand. “I’m not—”

I pull her back down and drop my voice to a lower octave. “Stop.”

She bites her tongue and pauses. Her chest rises and falls, either out of anger or passion. Probably both. I patiently wait for her to concede. Then she plants her hands on the floorboards on either side and narrows her eyes. When her shoulders start to relax, I move my hands to her front, unbuttoning her jeans.

“Lift.”

Her pupils dilate and she raises her ass for me to peel the jeans off. I get hard at the sight. I can’t believe this is my Raleigh. This woman was made for me.

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