Page 13 of Wild Card

He didn’t seem mad or upset—more amused than anything else. His large hand came up to cup my elbow, and flicking my eyes there, I noticed a long, slightly raised scar that ran along the back of his left hand, all the way to his wrist. On instinct I wanted to know what it was, ask him about it…but that would have been rude and was not the point of tonight’s adventure.

“Um…so this whole game…this is kind of crazy, right?” I laughed nervously, folding the blindfold over my fingers. I couldn’t meet his eyeline.

He seemed to watch me with varying interest, like I was a puzzle he was trying to piece together, only realizing too late that he didn’t do puzzles and wasn’t sure why he was here.

“Right.” He laughed, stepping toward me.

Coming toe to toe with me, he slowly slipped the silk fabric from my grip. My chest began rising more intensely as his hand went to my waist, running his finger along my skin. Strangely enough, I didn’t experience any anxiety when I felt his touch.

I tipped my head back to take him in more fully. He had a strong, square jaw that narrowed at his chin, complete with a small dimple. His bottom lip was pouty while his top was more resolute, and his nose was straight and flared in perfection proportion to his face. His eyes looked dark green, almost muddy under the lights, but they seemed to glow in a way that had me captivated.

He inhaled sharply as his grip moved down and intensified at my hip. Those dark brows caved as though he was thinking of something to say. It went away just as he smiled darkly down at me.

“You’re my home run, tonight…better get to batting.” He playfully smiled, pulling me closer.

Right—the sex.Fuck.

“Okay…but um, I thought we could talk for a bit first.” I tucked a few pieces of hair behind my ear. Truth be told? I totally wouldn’t have minded this guy pinning me down and trailing kisses down my body while he made me come. If I met him in a bar, there was no way I wouldn’t be dying for a night in his bed. Even so, I had principles, and as shitty as it felt, I had to stand on them.

I had told Taylor I would not be claiming this ridiculous home run. Besides, he wanted her.

God, the realization slowly hit me. He thought Iwasher. Did he not know what she looked like? Did they just draw names out of a fucking hat?

His eyes narrowed on me, like he couldn’t quite figure me out.

“Not really in the mood to talk tonight, babe. You good with this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

Shit.Well, I mean…this was for the sake of the article. I could have a little fun for the story. I had to at this point—but I wouldn’t have sex with him.

I wouldn’t.

I swallowed, putting my hands on his chest. “Yeah, of course.”

A quick inhale filled his chest, making it feel…more emotional than it should have, like this affected him somehow.

Before I could unpack the idea, he leaned forward and slanted his head to the side. His eyes held conflict, like maybe he was trying to safeguard his decisions and not kiss me. I understood. This was just a hookup, and there was no need to be personally connected. Internally I agreed, but externally I arched my back, pressing into him, gripping his wrists. My fingers grazed that raised scar and the warm metal of the watch on his left. I felt powerful, holding him by the wrists. They were strong, and the position allowed him to tip my head.

Stupidly—so, so stupidly—I closed my eyes.

Heat flared between us as he pressed his body into mine. Then with my next breath, he was there, his silky lips closing in, caressing mine…coaxing them open with the slightest touch.

A sound came from my throat as my tongue darted out, unable to resist licking the seam of his mouth. He slanted his head to the side as my hands snaked up his chest, wrapping around his neck.

His hands moved down my neck, then to my curves, until he landed on my hip, where he pulled me closer, until I could feel his hardness against my stomach. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, tasting me…devouring me. My stomach tipped like I was on a roller coaster, which was the strangest sensation ever. I hadn’t felt this way since…ever.

He moved down the column of my throat with his tongue, tasting, marking, and lastly, inhaling.

He walked us backward to the bed, where I fell and he crawled over me, putting his knee lightly between my parted thighs, touching enough to leave me panting for him to push it farther so he’d be right against my center. His eyes seemed to watch my every move, as if my reaction and features would tell him what to do next.

Grabbing me behind my thighs, he lifted my dress while running his hand down to my ass, and then he squeezed.

Fuck.

Of course, I didn’t plan to scoot farther up the bed, forcing him to follow…but the way I begged him with my eyes, he must have known I needed him to press his knee into my center. He followed after me, pressing into me with the perfect amount of pressure against my increasingly wet entrance.

My eyes may have rolled into the back of my head, even as I registered on an embarrassing level that the simple touch shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. A carnal part of me wanted to beg him to fuck me, to demand he take off his clothes, pull out that cock, and let me wet it before he slid into me.

I was dying, overheating, nearly combusting just from having him part my legs and add that smallest bit of pressure to my center. Rising from the bed, I pushed my chest up, knowing he liked what he saw. His eyes narrowed when my breasts strained against the top of my dress.

---