Page 179 of Make the Play

Because I need to taste it, need to taste her—us.

I groan the second my tongue finds her wet and swollen, dripping with both of us. I lick slow and deep, drawing it out and licking into her like I’m starving. She moans, legs twitching, hand sliding into my hair.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “You’re actually insane.”

I grin against her pussy, then drag my tongue up, flicking gently over her clit. She jerks with a gasp, thighs closing around my head like she can’t help it. I keep going, tongue sweeping up everything we left behind.

When I finally pull back, I stand slowly, gaze locked on hers in the dim light. Her lips are parted, chest heaving as I lean in.

I kiss her to claim her, and when I open my mouth, I let her taste it. Her moan catches between us as she realizes what she’s tasting.

“Jesus,” she breathes, pulling back just a fraction. “You’re really out here swapping fluids like it’s some kinda love language.”

I grin, thumb brushing her lip as my eyes skate over her flushed face. “Guess I’m fluent.”

She laughs, breathless. “You’re sick.”

“You love it.”

A laugh, and then she pushes me back down to the floor and drops into my lap with a satisfied sigh, her voice light again.

“Is my underwear in your pocket?”

I lean my head back against the mirrored wall, a grin plastered on my face and my arms wrapped around her. “I’m keeping them. Elevator exclusive—not available in stores.”

She snorts. “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, brushing a kiss to her temple. “But I’m yours.”

Chapter thirty-four

I want every single version of reality with you

Zoe

I’m halfway through brushing conditioner into my hair when my phone buzzes on the counter. I glance at it absently, expecting another text from Charlie or maybe Pulse’s socials team about some last-minute post. But the number flashing across the screen isn’t saved.

I answer, pressing the phone between my ear and shoulder while dragging the comb through another tangle.

“Ms. Carlson?” The voice is polite. Way too tentative, which is never a good sign. “Apologies for the intrusion. I’m calling from the building office about the elevator incident from last week.”

My stomach knots instantly.

“I’m sure you were told there was no permanent security feed,” the man continues, already nervous. “But when the main system failed, the backup triggered automatically. And, well… it recorded the whole malfunction. Including the, uh, footage of the occupants inside.”

My blood ices over.

“What kind of footage?” I ask, voice sharp now.

“It’s low-resolution,” he rushes. “No audio. But before we send it to the HOA, we thought it might be prudent to alert you. Since, uh… some of the footage seemspersonal.”

I hang up before he can say anything else, and the comb drops from my hand. I stand there, dripping onto Chase’s tiled floor, wrapped in nothing but terrycloth and total fucking panic.

Footage.

There’s footage of me being pressed up against an elevator wall, moaning like a goddamn porn star while Chase had his mouth on my neck and his hand between my legs. Footage of him lifting me up, wrapping my thighs around his hips, and fucking me through a system failure.

No sound, but enough to ruin everything.

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