Page 49 of Playing to Win
Me. I almost did. I’m still kind of rejecting him at this very moment. Though I don’t know if I’d qualify as rational…
Now he’s got his fingers on my throat, skimming my skin, making me shiver as he stares at my mouth like he wants to eat it and I don’t know want to say. Don’t know what to do.
He’s much easier to handle when he’s Mr. Casual Flirtation, which is his normal mode of operation around me. And I’m cool with that. I’m fine with it. I can walk away from him with zero regrets, chalking up his behavior to casual flirtation.
Tonight, he’s edgier. A lot more intense. And all of that intensity is currently focused on me.
I don’t know how to handle it. Handlehim.
I’m just wasting my time and his anyway. This is going nowhere.
Absolutely nowhere.
“I-I need a drink,” I say, suddenly flustered.
He removes his hand from my neck and I immediately miss his possessive touch. He hands me a bottle of beer and I take it from him, offering a murmured thank you before I take a big swallow. It’s cool and fizzy and while I’m not the biggest beer fan, it’ll do in a moment of crisis.
And right now, that’s what this feels like. But not like in a bad way, oh no. More in a,oh my God, what are we doingway?
“You never did answer my question.”
I frown. “What question?”
“The shirt? Is it a secret message?” He reaches out, his index finger drawing over the giant D on my shirt and I feel that touch right down to my very core.
It helps that I’m not wearing a bra. And that his finger just basically flicked across my nipple by accident, making it hard.
And, of course, he notices immediately, his gaze lifting to mine, his blue eyes stormy.
“Sorry,” he whispers, not sounding sorry at all.
Just before he does it again. Proving he is one hundred percent not sorry.
“Ace…”
“Is it a secret message to anyone?” He streaks his finger across the front of my shirt, from my right breast to my left and my mouth goes dry.
“No.” I croak, shaking my head. “I just wear shirts like this for fun.”
“Without a bra?” His brows lift.
“Sometimes. Like tonight.” I hate bras. And my boobs aren’t that big so I can get away with it, which I do often. Bras are such a hassle and sometimes even painful. Why can’t we go braless all the time?
“I shouldn’t have touched you like that.” He drops his hand, and I’m sad at the loss. “I overstepped your boundaries.”
Right now, I want to toss any boundaries I might have aside completely for him to touch me like that again. I’ve been fixated on those hands for a while now and I want to feel them on me.
“You didn’t know I wasn’t wearing a bra?” I sound like I don’t believe it, because I don’t.
I mean, come on, he had to have known.
“I don’t think I did.” His smile reminds me of the one you’d see on a boy who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or on a woman’s boob.
I back away from him slightly, reaching for my beer. “I really hope you didn’t drive yourself here.”
“I did.” He’s frowning. “What does it matter?”
“Because you, Ace Townsend, are drunk. And you shouldn’t drive.”
