The Lover’s Game (No Exceptions #2)(21)
Author: J.C. Reed

Already, everything felt bizarre. The room was slightly spinning, and I felt as though I was trapped in a dream. Maybe it was a dream, because in my blurred vision, everything—from my matchbox room to the man standing before me, motionless like a statue—seemed larger, unreal. His size intimidated me, and his stare frightened me, but not to the extent of making me want to run.

Finally, I heard his slow, muffled steps as he moved closer, stopping inches from the bed. “I have to go.”

Even in my ears, his excuse—or lack thereof—sounded weak, dripping with hesitation and something else.

Anger?

Defeat?

You’re misinterpreting too much.

“Why?” Frowning, I stared at him. In the darkness of the room, I couldn’t read his expression.

“Because I won’t take advantage of a drunken woman. That’s why,” he whispered. “The only reason I agreed to give you a ride home was to make sure you got home safely. I didn’t want you to take a cab all by yourself or, worse, to end up going home with the wrong guy, someone without my…integrity. You never know what might happen if you go home with a stranger. Some other guy might use your inebriated state to take advantage of you.”

A man of morals. Great.

Even though his concern touched me, I laughed bitterly. The fact that he wanted to leave so soon filled me with despair and rejection. Back at the club, he had been so sure of our interlude, shamelessly flirting with me. Now, doubt had replaced the need I had sensed in his tone.

“I’m not drunk,” I said, certain that I couldn’t be. I hadn’t even finished two cocktails.

“Get some rest. You don’t look too good,” he whispered.

I was feeling a little sick, but not so much that I wanted him to leave. I couldn’t bear to be alone with my dark thoughts. My demons were too forceful, struggling to be let out.

“Please, don’t go,” I begged. Swaying slightly, I grabbed his hand and pulled him to me. He sat down the edge of the bed, keeping a few inches between us.

I didn’t know what else to say. How do you stop a stranger from leaving you alone in a pit of darkness? The desperation in my voice spoke more than a thousand words. Never before in my life had I been so nervous and desperate at the same time. The body I was in didn’t even feel like me. It wasn’t that crazy to sleep with a stranger. It wasn’t that desperate, or so I kept telling myself. He had to pick up on it because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to stop him from leaving.

I moistened my parched lips. “You said you like when people owe you,” I began and, suddenly remembering his name, I added, “There is something you can do for me, Check. I’d like to owe you.”

“You already do. I brought you home,” he said.

I shook my head slowly and frowned as the haziness intensified. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“What else do you need from me?” His fingers lingered over my hand, as though he couldn’t decide whether or not he should touch me.

“I want you inside of me.” My voice came raspy, alien to my ears. Had I always sounded so vulnerable? Come to think of it, it wasn’t crazy to sleep with a stranger. It was despair. If that would keep him for the night, then so be it.

Pushing my legs on either side, I moved onto his lap. If I played my cards well enough, maybe he would give in. So, I leaned into him and trailed my fingertips down his shirt. Under the fabric, I could feel rows and rows of hard muscles.

“Is that a suggestion or a demand?” he asked huskily, giving up control. I liked the idea because it gave me power when I had lost control over my real life.

“Both.” My voice sounded hoarse, matching the low rumble in his throat. Satisfied with his reaction, my hands interlocked behind his neck. As I bent forward, I smelled the faint scent of scotch and something else, and my heart began to pound in my chest. Slowly, I brushed my lips against his and sucked on his lower bottom lip as I moved my hips against his growing erection, back and forth, until his breathing grew heavy and his length hardened, straining against his pants. Below me, he was becoming as hard as a stone. I only realized he pulled back when his arms wrapped around my waist. At first, I thought it was to initiate sex, until his grip tightened, stopping my movements.

I frowned.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, confused. He wanted me, no doubt about that.

“Your offer is tempting, but—” He paused to consider his words.

“But what?”

“You’re wasted, and as I said, I’m not comfortable taking advantage of you or your body.”

I laughed. He just wouldn’t let it go.

“Does it really matter? You’re here. I invited you, and I’m obviously consenting.” I sounded pissed, but I couldn’t help it. ”Or am I not sexy enough for you to f**k me?”

“You’re sexy enough and then some. There’s no doubt about that,” he whispered. “But I can’t control myself. If we continue, I’ll feel as though I violated you in the most intimate way, and that doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to lose control and hurt you. That’s not my intention.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said, shaking my head. “I should have known you don’t really find me attractive. There’s no reason for you to lie. You could have told me you’re not interested before you dropped me off. I would have understood.” My tone betrayed my disappointment and hurt, but I didn’t care. He was rejecting me and had wasted my time, not to mention humiliated me. Tears began to roll down my cheeks. I wiped at them angrily as I stood, feeling strangely emotional. “You can go now.”

His footsteps thudded behind me. The door was just a few steps ahead. I reached it and opened it, planning to slam the door after him as soon as he walked out.

I wanted him to leave—better now than later, when things became awkward and I began to analyze what was wrong with me.

I was hardly out of the room when his hand clasped around my upper arm and he pressed me against the wall. I fought against his iron grip, but he was stronger. Faster. His lips descended on mine with a hunger that wasn’t natural. For an instant, dread filled me, but strangely, his roughness turned me on.

“You want me inside?” he asked hoarsely. His dark voice sent a throbbing sensation between my legs. Together with his scent and the intensity of his touch, it was a heady combination.

I was lost, bent to his will.

Dipping his tongue into my mouth, he gripped my wrists and pulled them above my head. I moaned as our tongues met in a dangerously slow dance—circling, teasing, and testing boundaries. His hands began to move lower, past my abdomen, and cupped my ass until something hard brushed me.