Page 90 of Changing the Playbook
“Trust me.”
There’s something different in her voice, a confidence that sends heat straight through me. The Sophie from months ago would’ve blushed at the thought of leading a guy anywhere. This Sophie moves with purpose, and my body responds to that certainty, every nerve firing.
The bathroom barely fits two people. When she closes the door behind us, her scent fills my lungs, and I reach for her but she pulls away. I’m confused, for a second, until I watch her open a drawer with game-winning determination and, a second later, purple silicone gleams in her hand.
She meets my eyes with a look that dares me to judge her for owning it, for wanting to use it, for being bold enough to suggest it. “You’re always talking about trying new things, always asking what I want, so here’s both in one for you to decide what you want to do.”
“Sophie Pearson,” I say. “Every time I think I’ve got you figured out…”
“Is that bad?”
“It’s fucking perfect.”
She sets the vibrator on the counter with a soft click that echoes in the small space. Steam curls from the shower as she turns it on, fogging the mirror within seconds. Her hands move to her sweater’s hem, but I catch them, need pressing against my ribs.
“I need you to know something,” I say.
She tilts her head, waiting. A strand of hair falls across her cheek.
“I know you take your coffee with enough sugar to rot teeth. I know you color-code your study notes by subject and importance. I know you buy Pop Tarts but feel guilty eating them for breakfast, so you tell yourself they’re an afternoon snack.” I pull her close, until every curve presses against me. “I know you, Sophie.”
“Mike.” My name breaks on her lips.
“Not done yet.” I release her wrists to frame her face, thumbs brushing those freckles I’ve memorized. “I know the real you. I know spiders make you squeak and flail. I know you give everyone else pieces of yourself until there’s nothing left. I know you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, but you don’t see it.”
“If you’re trying to make me cry before we even get naked?—”
“Just making sure you understand.” My gaze travels down her body, lingering on the rapid rise and fall of her chest before meeting her eyes again. “This isn’t just physical for me, and Ireallylook forward to figuring out where this goes. Though the physical is pretty good too…”
Her laugh bounces off the tile, bright and real. “Such a smooth talker.”
“I have other talents too.”
Steam thickens around us as we undress each other. No hesitation marks Sophie’s movements now, her fingers working my shirt buttons with precision while her eyes stay locked on mine. When she pushes the fabric off my shoulders, her palms flatten against my chest, mapping muscle with focused attention.
“Christ, I missed this.” The admission spills from her lips as she traces my abs.
“We literally saw each other yesterday.”
“I meant this.” She spreads her fingers, claiming more skin. “Touching you.”
“Dangerous precedent you’re setting, Pearson.”
She grins—not her polite public smile but the wicked curve that makes my blood surge—and raises her arms. The sweater slides off to reveal deep purple lace that matches the toy waiting on the counter, a million degrees more bold and sexy than the plain basics I’d seen her in previously.
“This was definitely premeditated.”
“I’m a planner.” She reaches for my belt. “Problem with that?”
“Absolutely none.”
My hands find the lace, tracing its edges while she attacks my buckle with enthusiasm that has me widening my stance. We shed the rest of our clothes in a tangle of limbs and laughter, the small space forcing us to press together with every movement. Her skin burns against mine even before the water touches us.
“Shower,” she gasps, fumbling behind her.
We tumble through the glass door. Hot water slams into us, and Sophie’s squeak transforms into a moan that shoots straight to my already aching cock. Water streams down her body, turning her into something out of every fantasy I’ve ever had.
“How do you want?—”
