Playing Hard to Master (Masters Unleashed 2)

“Does it look like I give a fuck what people think of me? You could dye your head green and tattoo your face, and I would still be smitten with you.”

Smitten? Was he giving her a line? Still trying to get action?

He wasn’t pawing at her or anything. In fact, he seemed content just to lie there and hold her. But she needed answers. Lying wasn’t acceptable, especially with someone she was falling for so quickly. He was drunk and seemed pretty loose with his feelings. Maybe she could learn a few things about him while she had the chance.

It seemed a little underhanded, but whatever. He’d lied to her, so that justified the means to get answers. Maybe the work party thing was part of his weird hot/cold routine. Was this a commitment issue? Was keeping her away from his friends a way to hold himself back from getting too deep?

Maybe she should start there.

But first, more wine. “Here,” she said, grabbing her glass off the coffee table, where she’d left it. “Finish this for me. It’s too good to toss out, and I’m not feeling great.”

He took the glass. “Poor thing. Do you need me to do anything for you?” The question made her laugh inside. As if he were in any condition to do much for her.

In control of her emotions now, she turned to see his face. It’d be easier to sense a lie that way. “Let’s play a game. I’m going to ask you a question, and if you answer it, I’ll take a piece of clothing off. If you choose to pass, you have to drink.”

He arched a brow. “And what do I get out of this game?”

“To see me naked. Duh.” She wasn’t really in the mood to be ogled, but she’d deal with it to finally get to the bottom of things. Besides, she was hoping he’d pass out before she had to take everything off.

“All right.” He put the glass of wine back on the table. “We’ll play your little game. But when I’m sober, we’re gonna play my kind of game.”

She had no idea what that meant, but what were the chances he’d remember saying that? “Deal.” Smiling that her scheme was working, she went to the kitchen to get a shot glass and a bottle of vodka.

“First question,” she said. “Why didn’t you bring me to the party tonight?”

With a sarcastic look, he held out his hand for the wineglass.

Scowling, she remained still. He wasn’t off the hook about that. They had a brief stare-down, then he sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you. I felt like it was too soon, and I didn’t want to scare you off.”

His expression was too drunk to judge his sincerity, so she just rolled her eyes and moved on. Lecturing him in this condition was a waste of fucking breath.

“Um. How many exes do you have?”

“Ugh. I’m too drunk for math, brat.” Still, he seemed to ponder it. “For the last couple of years, I’ve been playing with Banner’s leftovers, so who the fuck knows?”

“Are there any significant ones?”

At that, a shadow passed over his face. Now they were getting somewhere. “After high school? One,” he said. “My slave. Ex-slave. It was a long time ago.”

“What happened?”

“She—” He paused and narrowed his eyes.

Fuck. Was he onto her?

He flicked an imperious finger at her clothing. “I answered. Off with your clothes, woman.”

Fair was fair. And she felt like she was getting somewhere with him. She thought for a moment then took off one sock.

He rolled his eyes.

“Finish what you were saying, and I’ll take off my shirt.”

“I could make you do it now,” he said in his Dom voice. Only it was slurred, which made it hard to take seriously.

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”