Page 65 of Played
My fist hammers on his door.
My heart is beating a mile a minute. I feel as though I just ran a marathon—adrenaline buzzes through me. He opens the door shirtless, hair mussed, concern flooding those dark eyes the second he sees my face.
"Liza—"
I crash into him, burying my face against his bare chest. His arms wrap tight, anchoring me, and I finally exhale.
"What happened?" His voice rumbles beneath my cheek.
"I did it." The words tumble out between gasps. "I got the phone. Dylan's phone." I take great comfort in the warmth of his strong arms, burrowing my whole being into him.
"Are you okay?"
"I had to—God, Julian, I had to kiss him and touch him and—"
He pulls back, holding me at arm's length. His expression shifts through shock, disbelief, then something darker. Possessiveness. "What do you mean?"
"I had to kiss him."
"You kissed him!"
"I had to! For Colleen, for Claudia—"
His mouth twitches. "And what do you mean… You had to touch him?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "It was the only way to distract—"
"A younger man, too." His hands slide to my waist, gripping me firmly. "You've been a very bad girl, Liza."
The teasing lilt catches me off guard. My breath hitches.
"Julian—"
He pulls me flush against him, mouth hovering over mine. "Kissing boys at parties. Getting handsy. What am I going to do with you?"
I smile, shaky, relieved, turned on. "I don't know. Punish me?"
He laughs. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
I grin up at him playfully, teasing. “I need to brush my teeth… now!”
I race to his washroom, where I already keep a toothbrush, and brush all remains of Dylan from my mouth.
As soon as I’m done, Julian finds me and pulls me in.
“Wow, someone’s—”
His kiss swallows my words—hungry, claiming, nothing like Dylan's beer-soaked fumbling. This is fire. This ismine.
Clothes scatter across his apartment in a trail of discarded cotton and denim. My shirt is somewhere near the piano. His jeans were kicked off by the bathroom. We don't make it gracefully to the bedroom—more stumble than stride, mouths fused, hands desperate.
The unmade bed catches us. Duvet tangled, pillows askew.
He spins me around, presses my chest to the mattress, hands firm on my hips.
"Stay."
I obey, heart hammering, already slick with want.
