Page 50 of Playing to Win
He sags against the seat, his expression downright forlorn. “You’re right. I can’t drive.”
I nod, sipping from my beer. It’s already a little too warm and kind of gross. “Have Derek take you home.”
“Have me do what?” Derek asks, butting his head in between us. Lord, he has a big face.
“You need to drive your friend home.” I wave my beer bottle at Ace. “He’s wasted.”
“Can’t,” Derek says, withdrawing himself from our conversation.
And that’s it. There’s no explanation, no reason given. Just a simple,can’t.
“He’s a shit friend,” I tell Ace.
“Yeah, he is.” Ace nods in agreement. “Did you drive here?”
“I did.”
“Then you can drive me home.” He smiles.
Oh. That sounds…
Complicated.
He crowds me, blocking my view of the bar so all I can see is him. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Um, not really?” I’m not ready to leave just yet. “I’d like to finish my beer first.”
“Oh yeah.” He’s smiling that smile again, the little boy one. It’s a little crooked. A lot sweet. He’s adorable. His earlier intensity has worn off him some and I’m a little relieved. Only because it—he—is a lot to handle. “Hurry up then.”
So impatient.
“Sorry to break it to you, but I’m more of a sipper.” I shrug, trying to play coy as I purposely take another smallsipof my beer. I think about what he did to me only a moment ago. The way his fingers curved around my throat. My chin. God, I liked it way too much when he did that. That secret little kink of mine I usually keep buried deep inside is flaring to life and my body is hoping it’ll happen again.
No guy has ever done that to me before unless I asked him to, and even then, not a single one of them was comfortable with it. Which made me uncomfortable making the request so I stopped.
It’s not like I was begging them to choke me, but I guess I sort of was?
I might be a complete deviant, but I loved the way Ace grabbed my face without asking. My neck. Like he wants to claim me. As if he might already own me.
I wanted to melt, it felt so good.
“A sipper, huh?” he asks, his gaze shifting to my bottle of beer. He stares at it hard, as if he’s mentally trying to empty it and I almost laugh.
“Can I ask you a question?” I smile at him, pressing my back against the booth seat when he leans forward, his face practically in mine.
“Go for it,” he murmurs, his gaze now zeroed in on my mouth. He’s staring so hard, my lips are tingling and it almost feels like he’s actually kissing me.
“It’s a personal question.”
“My favorite kind.” His voice is smooth, the look in his eyes…
Smoldering.
I swallow down my nervousness, hoping he won’t judge me once he hears what I have to say.
“Do you ever do that hand thing when you’re…having sex?”
He frowns, his brows drawing together in confusion. “What hand thing?”
