The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

I cup her cheek in my hand, rubbing my thumb over her smooth skin and then I lean in, pillowing my lips over hers. The light contact isn’t enough, though, and I press more firmly as her fingers grasp at my hair and her leg hooks around my waist. My tongue swipes into her mouth and she lets out the softest sound I’ve ever heard. It’s a cross between a moan and purr and I’m eager to make her do it again. My hands move to her waist and my fingers dig into the indent above her ass. She tastes minty from her toothpaste but sweet too, like she’s just sucked on a piece of candy. She rolls her hips against mine and I stifle a groan. This girl is going to kill me, but I’m pretty sure I’d willingly welcome death at her hands.

Her hands move from my hair to wrap around my neck and she rocks her hips more. If this was any other girl I’d have her naked in no time but this is Grace and I can’t do that to her. I can’t add her to the list with a bunch of other faceless girls. She doesn’t belong there. Grace is special. She’s the kind of girl that when you have her, you find a way to keep her. She’s the kind of girl you marry. But me? I’m not the kind of guy that gets the girl. I always fuck it up. Always.

I kiss my way down her neck, over her collarbone, and then rest my head against her chest.

I breathe heavily and her fingers brush through my hair.

“Bennett?” she says softly after a minute.

“What?”

“We forgot about the cupcake.”

“Huh?” I sit up and she presses more firmly against my growing erection.

She stifles a giggle and points at my chest. “The cupcake.”

“Ah, fuck.” I look down at the chocolate cupcake smeared all over my chest and her shirt now. Little pieces of chocolate cake cover her bed too. “Sorry.”

She kisses my cheek in the sweetest fucking gesture I’ve ever had thrown my way. “It’s okay. I can change the sheets and I have plenty of tops. I’d tell you to go down the hall to wash up, but you might scare the girls. I’ll go grab you a wet cloth.”

I chuckle and run my fingers through my hair. “Thanks, Princess.”

She grabs another shirt before she scurries out of the room, and I deflate at the fact that I’m not going to get to see her change. I’m pretty sure if there’s a God, he’s laughing at me right now.

I stand up and will my dick to go down—like literally say a little prayer and I’m pretty sure that must be sacrilegious or something, but fuck it—and remove the sheets from Grace’s bed, piling them in her laundry basket.

She returns with a wet cloth and in a clean shirt. This one is looser but somehow sexier. I’m pretty sure I asked to sleep here just to torture myself, because come on.

“Here you go.” Grace hands me the cloth and then grabs a second set of sheets from the bottom dresser drawer.

She fits the clean sheets on while I scrub the cake and icing from my chest. When I’m clean, I add the washcloth to her laundry basket.

She sighs and wrinkles her nose at the basket. “Looks like I’ll have to do laundry tomorrow.”

“I can come entertain you while you do it.” I waggle my brows.

She laughs and puts the comforter back on the bed. “Or you could do it for me?” she suggests with a pleading smile.

I mock-wince. “Sorry, no can do, Princess. Laundry is not my thing.”

“Please don’t tell me you pay someone to do your laundry.”

I shake my head. “Nah, I do it. I just don’t like it.”

She flattens her hands over the bedding. “Get in.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I dive onto her bed and it bounces under my weight. I lift up the covers and pat the space beside me. “Come on, Princess.”

She gets in beside me and grabs her iPad once more, finally starting the show.

I hand her the cupcake box and she takes it eagerly, her eyes lighting up. “I’d be nice and share this with you, but I really want the cupcake.” She lets out a little giggle and takes a bite. I can’t even be mad when she’s so damn cute.

She starts the show, and before I know it we’ve breezed through half the season. “Those two are going to end up together,” I declare. I hate to admit it, but I’m hooked.

She nods and puts her iPad on the end table. “Oh, definitely.” She agrees, wiggling around. We turned the light off a while ago, so both of our eyes have adjusted to the darkness. A little bit of light seeps in through the blinds.

Grace snuggles down under the covers and rolls to her side. “Goodnight, Bennett.” She wiggles and her ass brushes my thigh. I let out a sound like I’m in pain. “Are you okay?” I can’t mistake the real note of worry in her tone.