Page 29 of Rogue
“ . . . so this morning I want to get a feel of who I’m working with . . .”
I swear to God, Ball-Busted wiggles his fingers, getting an imaginary feel, all right.
“ . . . and will call two of you up at a time for a role-playing activity. We’ll begin with the oldest form of manipulation, sex play.” She says the last with a throaty tone that has the crotches of every man’s pants in the room pitched like a barn. I allow myself a mental sigh. “For this experiment, you’ll interact face-to-face. I am going to whisper in your ear what response I want to see from your partner. Your job is to use physical manipulation to get that response, and then we’re going to gage the reaction of the other person and evaluate how well they’ve been manipulated, even in the slightest of ways.”
And she’s going to be the expert judge to say yeah or nay? A bunch of bullshit, if you ask me. But the guys seem game so I keep my mouth shut.
“But how are we going to do this with only two women in the room?” someone asks.
Terrific. Now all eyes are cast on me, the forgotten one. Sabrina scrunches her nose like the idea of another woman in the room disgusts her. Snotty and an attention seeker with a superiority complex. Yeah, I’ve been reading people my whole life, honey.
I give her my sweetest smile.Game on.
She turns away and gyrates her way over to Ball-Busted. “You’re up. Along with . . . him.” She points to Francis, then gestures for them to head to the center of the room.
As she whispers in Francis’s ear, Ball-Busted boasts, “No way is this pussy going to manipulate me.”
They face each other. Then, quicker than I’d give him credit for, Francis moves in, tugs Ball-Busted’s head toward his own, and soundly kisses him. A French kiss, with tongue and all. A sneaky, unexpected move earning him my thumbs-up.
Ever so damn predicable, Ball-Busted stiffens, then shoves Francis away. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he snarls, “Try that again and I’ll bite off your fucking tongue.”
“Excellent. Give yourself a point. You’ve used sex to achieve your goal of making him angry.” Well, no shit, Sherlock. Then she wiggles her finger at Jaxson. “You’re up.”
He unwinds his big body from his perch on the sofa arm and saunters to the center of the room.
I drag my eyes away but not before they connect with Sabrina’s. Terrific. She’s probably caught on to my lustfest over him. It doesn’t take a psychology degree to figure it out. I mean, what woman can resist him? I mentally brace myself, instinctively knowing she’s about to fuck with me. That whatever happens will also be a lesson in how a female pecking order is established, with her believing she’s the head cheerleader and that I’m just some lowly, rock music–loving geek. I’m careful not to give any more of myself away, which judging by the snap of her head, displeases her.
I plaster a big, fake smile on my face then look back the other away. My heart gives a few fist pumps when I realize Jaxson’s attention is directed toward me.
He winks.
Jesus. In a split second, my newfound determination to resist him flies out the window. Damn him. This man is going to be the end of me yet.
“Who else?” Broken-Nose demands.
Sabrina shakes her head. No. No one.
What the heck?
Then she reaches up, wraps her arms around Jaxson’s shoulders, and, pressing her big boobs into his chest, draws his head down to her.
He lets her.
I contemplate leaving the room. Or worse, dragging her away from him. Yet that’s what she’s hoping for. Provoking me. Manipulating my insecurities with her sexually charged moves on Jaxson. Targeting me. I grit my teeth. I’ll be damned if I give her the satisfaction, so I lean back in my chair, cross my legs, and pretend the flush on my cheeks caused by the heat and not because my blood is boiling. Because of her. Because of him. Because of my own fickle horn-girl response to him.
His lips hover over hers. Familiar lips. Promised to me . . . to be mine. Damn them both.
Sabrina folds into him like a cat who’s ready to lick the cream off the naughty curve of his smile.
At the last second, Jaxson pulls his head away and whispers something in her ear. Her pout turns sinister as he breaks away and steps back.
“My throat’s sore from all the running in the rain. How about another healthier volunteer step up in my place? Someone who won’t make the pretty lady sick?”
Ball-Busted jumps up.
She gives him a vicious sit-your-ass-back-down wave.
I feel like clapping my hands. Outplayed by the player. Why should that surprise anyone, including myself? One hundred points, Jaxson.
