Play Me Hard (Play Me 3)

“I’m fine,” I tell her, pressing one more kiss to her mouth before standing up.

She smirks a little, nods at the raging erection I’m making no attempt to hide. “You look a little more—or less—than fine, depending on the perspective.”

“Yeah, well, I’m as close to fine as I’m going to get right now.” Reluctantly, I let go of her hand. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

“I never drink tea in the summer.”

“At all?”

“Never.” It’s the most lucid she’s sounded since I found her tonight. “Terrible childhood trauma that involved my mother’s carpet, my favorite doll and a whole pot full of tea. I’ve never recovered.”

“I can tell,” I answer dryly. “Kudos for putting on a brave face.”

She makes a face at me then, crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out at me. I bend down and capture her tongue, sucking it into my mouth. Running my own along it in soft, leisurely strokes that do nothing so much as torture us both.

When I finally pull back, I’m even harder than before and I know I need a distraction or I’m going to end up on that bed with her. And it won’t be to sleep. “Water, then? Wine? What would you like?”

“It’s so embarrassing to admit, but I am fresh out of wine. Don’t let the luxurious surroundings fool you. I’m a simple girl at heart.” She bats her eyelashes at me in the worst impression of a damsel in distress that I have ever seen. I laugh, because she intends me to and because I can’t not laugh. It continues to surprise me how much she amuses me…and how much it turns me on that she can both surprise and entertain me.

“All right, then. Why don’t you tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you?”

This time, she pulls a fake pout that might actually be convincing if her eyes weren’t also sparkling. God, give the woman a bath and a little bit of care and she goes from docile to trouble-making in a matter of minutes. I try to pretend I’m annoyed at being teased, but the truth is, I’m completely charmed and I know it shows on my face.

“I already told you what I want.” She hooks her fingers on the waist of my pants, tugs me so close that I can feel her breath hot against my dick. Or maybe that’s just my imagination…

“Let’s go with something to drink first,” I tell her, because despite her teasing I can see the dark circles under her eyes. “What can I get you?”

She pauses for a moment, studies me like she’s trying to decipher something. Then, finally, she shrugs and says, “There’s hot chocolate in the cupboard next to the stove. I wouldn’t mind a cup.”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

When I get to the kitchen I have no trouble finding the small blue box—how can I? There’s almost nothing else in the kitchen. There’s a couple discount cartons of yogurt in the fridge along with a stray apple, some cheddar cheese and a bottle of store brand ketchup. Besides the hot chocolate, there’s a small container of coffee and a few packs of crackers and ramen noodles in the cupboard.

Jesus.

She’s living hand to mouth here. Barely hand to mouth. Every time I think of David firing her for sticking up for that woman, it makes me livid. Makes me sick. What would she have done? How w

ould she have survived?

Is this how all my waitresses live? The thought has me cringing, making a mental note to check their salaries. Make sure they’re being paid a living wage. No one should have to live like this. No one.

It only takes me a few minutes to make the cocoa, and then I carry her mug back in to her.

“None for you?” she asks as she gingerly takes the hot drink from me.

“Not thirsty.” And even less interested in depleting her meager food supplies.

“Sit with me?”

“Of course.”

As I settle next to her on the bed, she takes a sip of the hot chocolate, then eyes me over the top of the mug. “Tell me something about yourself,” she finally says. “Something besides the whole prodigal-son-returns-to-take-over-the-casino-after-jet-setting-around-the-world narrative that’s currently going around the Atlantis.”

I think about my time in Laos. Sierra Leone. Nigeria. Haiti. “Is that the narrative going around?”

“Well, that and the one where you’re a real-life James Bond. International man of mystery and world-class spy.”

“James Bond? Really? The reality is going to sound so disappointing after all that buildup.”