Page 42 of Play Maker

Stop.Don’t think about fucking or Jace or fucking Jace.Or Jace fucking.

“If you want to kiss me, just do it,” Jace taunted, jolting me out of my filthy daydream and tumbling me into another.

I croaked out a smoky laugh, then threw my cigarette on the ground. “Are you drunk?”

“I had two sips of one beer. You?”

“Vodka shots and a couple of beers before that.”

“Well then, no kiss for you,” Jace replied. His expression was playful, but his tone wasn’t. “You’re too drunk to consent.”

“I’m not drunk, just buzzed,” I argued.

“So, you say.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Your loss,” I grumbled.

He looked at me with a curiously intense expression. “For a straight guy, that’s pretty flirty.”

“You’re pretty too,” I blurted out.

Okay, Ihaddrunk too much vodka. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“I think you forgot a word in there,” he chuckled.

I thought about that as I stared at his mouth, his lips so fucking tempting. So fucking close.

“Nope,” I foolishly admitted, the alcohol racing through my veins, burning my worries to ash. “And don’t be judgmental. I can find men pretty.”

“Me?” he demanded, the fire in his eyes sparking. “You’re the one who’s been a dick this whole time, judging me without cause.”

He had a point, but I couldn’t even form words to reply.

Suddenly, I wanted to be bold, wild. I didn't want to talk, I wanted action. I wanted to grab ahold of Jace and shut him up in the most satisfying way. What would be even better? Ifhegrabbed ahold ofme. Yeah, I wanted that. I wanted him to grab me, manhandle me against the side of the house, and kiss me. Hard. And I would kiss him right back. I wanted to suck on his tongue, nip his lips, take all my frustration out on that sexy, annoying mouth of his.

I guess I couldn't hide my dirty train of thought, because Jace stared at me in the exact same way. He let out a long breath, the white puff of air curling around his face. When he licked his lips, I knew exactly what he was thinking. This was crazy. Stupid. I shouldn't be standing here, not with him.

But I couldn't walk away. I knew what I wanted, even if it scared me.

Jace took a step towards me, then another, so close, until our boot tips knocked, and his breath teased mine. Everything about Jace—his eyes, his smell, his presence—was intense and so heady I wanted to lean down and lick him. Lick every inch of skin I could find. Mark it, bite it, ruin it. Wreck him.

My heart kicked up so fast that I wasn’t sure it would ever calm down.

I leaned down, closer, so fucking close.

“Not this again,” a familiar voice called out.

Jace and I both startled and stumbled apart.

I was shaking, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold, my annoyance at the interruption, or the fact that I was a barely restrained mess thanks to Jace. Judging by my painfully stiff dick, I already knew the answer. Then I remembered where I was and what almost happened and figured the interruption was for the best.

Now I had another secret to add to my list. Not so secret given the way Jace’s gaze burned over me.

I reluctantly turned my head towards the street to find Silas standing on the sidewalk, staring at us with a pissed-off expression. Wearing a leather motorcycle jacket and a thick grey scarf, he’d tied his long hair up in a bun, but most of it was escaping.

“Seems I arrived just in time,” Silas added as he headed towards us. “No fist fighting in the cold, idiots. You’ll get injured much worse.”

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