Page 75 of Power Play
“Shut up,” she snaps, kneeling down in front of me. “I’m doing this whether you like it or not.”
The way she says it, with that mix of sweetness and confidence, sends a jolt of heat through me. Sophie’s always been a little bit of a puzzle, but the way she’s taking charge right now; it’s a turn-on, if I’m being totally honest.
She gets a bag of ice and carefully props my ankle up, her hands lingering a little longer than necessary. I try to act like it doesn’t affect me, but her touch is electric.
“Better?” she asks, looking up at me through those wide eyes of hers.
“Yeah,” I mutter, but it’s not the pain that’s getting to me anymore. It’s her. Just being near her, being taken care of by her, is making everything else feel different. More intense.
Her fingers brush against my skin as she adjusts the ice pack, and I can’t help but watch her every move. There’s a tension building in the air, and I’m not sure if it’s the proximity or something else, but it feels like we’re both aware of it.
I can’t keep pretending, the heat between us is undeniable.
“You know,” she says, her voice low, “you’re being really good about this. Most guys would be whiny little babies, but you’re just sitting here, letting me boss you around.”
I smirk, leaning forward just a little. “Guess I like it when you boss me around.”
Her eyes flicker with something I can’t quite place. She pauses, and I swear time stops for a second.
“Is that so?” she asks, her voice softer now.
Before I can answer, she leans forward, closing the distance between us, her lips brushing mine in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate.
And it’s everything I’ve been waiting for. Everything I didn’t realise I needed.
My hand finds the back of her neck, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens. She’s just as eager, her fingers threading through my hair, tugging me closer, as if she can’t get enough.
The tension between us, the chemistry, it’s all there, and I need her in a way that’s raw, real.
She pulls away, breathless, and looks at me with dark eyes. “Murphy, you sure about this? I mean you’re supposed to be resting your ankle.”
“From what I remember, I don’t need my ankle for the next bit.” I wink at her cheekily before I lean in again, kissing her once more, hard.
We both know where this is heading. And right now, nothing else matters except for the two of us, tangled up together, no more pretending.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SOPHIE
His ankle is propped up on a cushion. I’m crouched on the floor in front of him with a bag of ice, doing my best impression of someone who knows what she’s doing.
Murphy grins down at me. Shirt off. Hair mussed. That stupid, beautiful smirk glued to his face. “From what I remember, I don’t need my ankle for the next bit.”
And then he’s kissing me.
“Is that medical advice or wishful thinking?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
“Bit of both,” he says, then adds, “I can provide a demonstration.”
I roll my eyes, but my insides are already a hormonal riot. I should probably say something responsible, like, “You need rest” or “We should ice it for twenty minutes at least.”
Instead, I lift the ice off his ankle and climb onto the sofa.
His eyes track my every movement. Hungry. Hot. That cocky smirk replaced by something darker.
“Sophie Hart,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, “are you about to take advantage of a man in pain?”
“Is it really taking advantage if you asked for it?” I straddle his thighs carefully, minding his ankle. “Besides, it’s your own fault for being too hot for your own good.”
