Page 172 of Carnal Games

Double shit.

Seth works for Darian Grover? I was stupidly taking him lightly. How in the ever-loving hell am I supposed to pry around with two men watching over me? One of whom I don’t even have a clue what he looks like.

Pin-drop silence descends, startling me. Heavy footfalls sound, traveling in my direction. I quickly dash toward Kian’s room. The second my ass hits the bed, he enters the room. Nothing in his stoic face indicates he was having a tense conversation only minutes ago.

Staring between me and the big platinum television screen, he raises a brow in question.

“I was waiting for you.”

His gaze softens. “Give me five minutes.”

“Okay.”

He goes into the bathroom, undoing his cuffs and loosening his tie as he goes. I cross my legs, tingles spreading all over my skin, noticing him leave the door ajar. Though I can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not, the result is all the same.

My panties dampen, picturing him gloriously nude on the other side of the wall. I’m eager and aching for a glimpse, but also nervous as hell. I’ve never seen a man naked, much less done anything intimate with a man. If our kiss was so earth-shattering, I can’t imagine what having sex with him will be like.

Except, stupid insecurities creep in.

Will my inexperience be a turn-off? What if I’m too shy or awkward or clumsy?

I want to please Kian. Scratch that. I want to rock his world.

A virgin dreaming of rocking a sexy-as-hell and older man’s world.It’d be hilarious if it weren’t my reality.

My mood sours, frustration bleeding in.

“What’s wrong?”

I jump at Kian’s rich voice and snap my gaze forward. Then proceed to become tongue-tied in an embarrassing and hot-and-bothered fashion.

Water droplets clinging to his ripped torso, a towel wrapped around his waist, Kian hovers outside the bathroom with his laser-sharp eyes locked on me.

I can’t decide which part of him I want to lick first. The sexy trail of hair starting below his belly button and leading to an unmistakable bulge or his flexing bicep with the tattoo gripping the only fabric concealing the salacious view that lies beneath.

Larger than life, with a light smattering of hair on his pecs, and rippling with muscles I can’t even name, he’s the hottest and most virile man I’ve ever seen.

Twisted possessiveness roars to life.

I involuntarily lick my lips.

“Iris,” he all but growls.

Oh, right. His question. I turn crimson head to toe. How does he read me so well?

“Nothing’s wrong,” I mumble, dragging my eyes to his.

Knotting the towel in the corner, he says, “I can tell when you’re deep in thought. You chew on the inside of your cheek when it’s upsetting you.”

I let go of said cheek, feeling silly.

He saunters over. “If it’s exciting, the blush underneath your eyes darkens. There it is.” Crowding me once more, his knuckle grazes the tops of my cheeks. “Right here.”

Blushing even more that he notices me so intensely and I had no clue, I look down. My hair fall like a curtain all around me. Except, it brought his chiseled abs into my direct line of sight. I become jealous of the water droplets touching his tanned skin.

The same knuckle skates underneath my chin and tips it up. “I’m not going to fuck you until you end it with Nathan, Iris.”

Disappointment and anticipation collide in my belly. My fingers twisting in the sheets, I shut my eyes, and beg, “Please put on clothes.”

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