Page 11 of Dirty Game

“Okay, cool.” A pink bag has been calling my name for days and I’ve ignored her—kicked her aside even—but tonight might be the night.

By the time we get up to my apartment, I’m such a ball of nervous energy that he could bounce me. “So I was thinking maybe you could help me with something.”

“Anything.” It looks like he’s about to reach for me, but instead he shoves his hands in his pocket.

“Okay. Can you help me pick out some lingerie then?”

He coughs. Loudly. “What’s that?”

“I’ve got some pieces…” I leave out the fact that my friends bought it for me. “And I thought you could tell me which ones you like best. I mean, you know…which pieces any guy would like best.” Because shit, I just made it seem like I’m trying lingerie on for him when he’s just helping me. He’s not really interested in me because of me. He’s interested in me to help me. Do research.

“Right. For research?” He looks at me uneasily.

“Ya. Exactly. I’m just trying to figure out the physics of it all.”

With a grunt, his face drops. “Sure. Let’s do this.”

Okay. That isn’t quite the reaction I expected, but who knows. Maybe he wishes he was back at the bar picking up some chick. May as well rush this and give him time for something else tonight. Even though that thought squishes my heart into a painful ball.

Quickly, I grab the pink bag and show him the first set. It’s a white lace babydoll.

I watch him swallow but say nothing. He just stares at it.

“So, what do you think?”

For the first time ever, I see him scratch his head like he might be nervous. This guy doesn’t do nervous. “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when his eyes turn to me, heated, and they scan me from head to toe like he’s imagining it on me.

A self-conscious laugh gurgles out of me. It sounds atrocious. “You’re not picturing me in it, are you?”

“What else am I supposed to do if you’re not gonna try it on?”

“You want me to try it on?” EEP!

“Sure wouldn’t hurt to see you in it.”

“Oh. Um…I guess I could do that.” I mumble the last words even though they’re beginning to sound a little ridiculous to me. “For research.”

Sneaking into my own bathroom I drop my heavy clothes and slip on the little babydoll. It comes with a G-string. Right. Okay. This is a first. Growing up with a coach for a dad, I’m the biggest tomboy ever. But I’m doing this for my writing. To tell the story. I need to know what it all feels like. And what his reaction to me is going to be.

“You need some help in there?” He calls out because I don’t know how long I’ve actually been in here now.

I peek out the door. “Just, whatever you do, don’t laugh. K?”

“Ya, laughing ain’t gonna happen. Don’t worry, baby.”

With measured care, I crack the door open and walk out, my eyes studying Pax the whole time. His jaw goes slack and his eyes rake over my body so intensely that I can feel them.

Then he clears his throat. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

My face falls. “Please, Pax. There’s just a few pieces. Tell me which ones—”

“Let’s get one thing straight.” He rubs the palm of his hand down the bulge in his jeans. ”I can help you by telling you whatIlike, but there’s no fucking way I’m getting you all sexy so you can show it off to some other prick.”

“Oh.”

“Ya. So if you wanna do a private fashion show for me, I’m all in. But it better be for me, not some asshole who doesn’t know you or appreciate you like I do.”