Page 61 of Play Fake
It’s her turn to smirk now, and she pins me with a look. Her eyes dancing with mirth and challenge. My brows raise at her brazenness, and admittedly I’m frozen, towel still in one hand, back against the counter.
“What’s the matter Captain? You get naked all the time in the locker room.”
“Uh, yeah,” I huff. “Normally, everyone else is naked in there too.”
She raises an eyebrow, looking like she’s about to make a joke, but instead she shrugs. “Okay.”
And the next thing I know, her hands have gone to the hem of the sweatshirt I gave her, pulling it up over her head and then tossing it on the floor.
“Your turn.”
I realize she’s offering to trade one piece of stripped clothing for another, which is going to be wildly unfair since she has several layers more than me, but I’m not about to say no.
I start unbuttoning my shirt and I can feel her eyes on me, watching my hands as they move down my chest and over my abdomen, revealing my skin beneath it for her to see. I untuck it the rest of the way from my pants and pull it off, tossing it down next to the sweatshirt at her feet.
She smiles, a genuine one that goes all the way to her eyes. “You have a lot of tattoos.”
“Went a little wild when I turned 18.” I shrug.
“They suit you, though.” She leans forward, touching my side where the runes are. “Especially these. You’re more of a Thor than a Captain America for the record.”
I go to protest but then think better of it. She can call me whatever she wants, especially if it means she touches me more.
“Fair enough. Your turn.”
Her eyes flick up to mine and she holds them while she pulls off the cardigan she was wearing and drops it to the floor. Still leaving her in a blouse and skirt.
“Not very fair,” I challenge.
She rolls her eyes but moves her hands to the buttons on her blouse, slowly undoing them one by one. My fingers ache to reach out and do it myself. I want to undo her. Take her apart slowly, methodically and then put her back together again piece by satisfied piece. But watching her is almost as fun.
When she pulls the blouse off, she reveals a gorgeous black lace bra that holds her breasts perfectly in place, a crisscross of straps go up over her shoulders and make my eyes wander back and forth over all the details.
“Better?” she asks.
“Better.” A lot better if I could just reach over and pull her strap down. My fingers twitch with the temptation.
“Your turn.” She nods down at my pants.
My black pants and the darkness of the room have kept the secret of exactly how hard I am until now fairly well. Taking them off and revealing the skintight boxer briefs I have on underneath is going to make the effect she has on me very obvious. And fuck me if I’m not a little bit nervous about it. Wondering I’m gonna live up to her expectations.
My fingers work the belt buckle and the zipper anyway though because if I’m in, I’m in all the way. So, I finish the job with only the slightest hesitation when I go to slide the pants down my legs. I toss them to the side.
When I look up, her eyes are glued to the bulge of my cock straining against the cotton there. I wish I could read minds and know exactly what she was thinking. I’d ask, but I’m positive she wouldn’t tell me the word-for-word truth I want to hear. I’m sure she’d say something clever instead.
In a bluster of confidence I don’t entirely feel, I nod to her. “Skirt, off.”
Her eyes come back up top to mine, startled but amused by the terse command.
“Yes, Captain,” she answers, a flirty grin dancing across her face as she lets the skirt fall to reveal matching lace panties hugging the curves of her hips. She’s so fucking perfect. I want to sear this moment into my mind for safekeeping.
“Didn’t we just decide I was a god and not a captain?” I tease her.
“Well, we’re about to find out, aren’t we?” Her eyes flick down to my briefs and then back up to my face before she gives me a positively evil grin.
It makes the heat crawl up my spine and neck, splaying down the front of me in a flush of pure want. I’m full of nervous anticipation. I hook my fingers in my briefs and yank them down, like ripping off a Band-Aid. My cock bobs as I stand back up to my full height after tossing them to the side.
The choking little gasp she makes, it’s barely audible but seems to echo off the walls and over the sound of the running water, anyway. It makes me impossibly harder. I smirk like a fucking asshole because the one woman I want in the world is staring at me like I’m water in a desert.
