Play Me Hard (Play Me 3)

Chapter One

Aria

“I don’t respond well to ultimatums, Sebastian.” I’ve had too many of them in my life, been told too many times to make a choice when there really was none. Pretended too many times that I had real control over my own life when it was nothing but a lie.

I’ve spent the last fourteen months making sure that I do have control—that I’m living my life away from my family and as close to how I want to as I can manage—to just fall back into old patterns. And yet, here I am, four hours after having sex with him, being told what to do. And worse, taking it.

“And I don’t respond well to watching the woman I just made love to collapse from exhaustion.” He sounds as adamant about this as I do.

“I’m fine.” It’s a lie. I’m nowhere close to fine, but that’s not his problem. It’s mine. And since I don’t even have a clue what’s wrong with me—why all of a sudden I feel so tired and sad and lonely and lost—I figure I’ll just ignore it and it’ll go away. It’s probably just all the sleepless nights I spent worrying about my sister catching up with me. All I need is a good night’s sleep.

“You’re not fine and we both know it.” His hand is on my elbow now, not tight enough to hurt, but more than tight enough to let me know that he means business. That he has no intention of letting me go until I do what he asks.

Well, to hell with that.

I wrench my arm away, but for whatever reason I’m not as sturdy as I usually am and I end up stumbling back a few steps. Sebastian lets me go at the first tug, but then he’s right there to steady me. His hand on the small of my back, his body pressed too close to mine.

“Don’t make me force you,” he tells me and I find myself bristling all over again. Force me? Who the hell does this guy think he is?

I start to tell him off once and for all, but a quick glimpse of his face has me freezing. He doesn’t look like he’s threatening me, doesn’t look like he’s laying down the law. In fact, he looks an awful lot like he’s asking. Like he’s actually asking me not to force him into doing something neither of us wants him to do.

I know it’s strange to look at it like that, especially considering the nature of what went on in his office earlier tonight. He has to know he’s got the upper hand here—sexually and because he’s my boss. So why does he care whether he has to force me or not? He’s stronger than I am. And though I’d put up a fight, if he really wants to he can carry me out of here and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

It’s a humbling realization, one that confuses me even as it makes me want to go for his eyes. But I can’t do that—because he’s my boss and because the last thing I really want to do is hurt him. I was the one who freaked out in his office, the one who walked out before we could so much as exchange after-sex pleasantries. He’s been nothing but kind to me and just because I don’t trust him, just because I get nervous around anyone who’s that big of a control freak—anyone who I think wants to control me—it doesn’t mean that I have the right to treat him like shit.

That knowledge has me sighing even as the tension leaves my muscles and I find myself relaxing next to him. “I’m not planning on going anywhere but home,” I tell him. “It’ll take me twenty minutes to get there and then I’m going straight to bed. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me take you.”

“I’m twenty-four years old. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you need a lover.” He reaches out, trails his fingers down my cheek. “We’ve already done the making love part. Now let me do the rest.”

It shouldn’t get to me. His low, husky voice. The intense green of his eyes. The way his body is curved protectively around mine even though my cheek is the only place he’s touching me. And yet it does. It really does. It’s such a good line and even if it really is nothing more than that, it’s enough right now.

I find myself nodding before I even know that I’m going to do it.

“My car—”

“Will be safe here overnight. I’ll send someone to pick you up tomorrow. Or I can have your car delivered, whichever you’d prefer.”

Of course he can have the car delivered. He has enough money to do just about anything he wants. Hell, he can buy a hundred cars and probably not even notice the cost to his bottom line. My family is rich, but Sebastian is RICH.

The reminder of our differences—since I walked out on my family I’m as poor as Sebastian is wealthy—bothers me, but not enough to keep me from saying, “Okay.” I don’t know why I do it. I really don’t, except that ceding this small amount of control to him somehow makes me feel better. Less confused, less lost than I’ve felt since I walked out of his office. I don’t understand why, after I’ve fought so long and hard to be in total control of my own life, giving control to him can make me feel more in control than ever, but somehow it does.

But I’m too tired to figure it out right now, so I just nod.

It’s not until Sebastian takes a deep breath and releases it, his body almost vibrating with relief, that I begin to comprehend just how much my acquiescence means to him.

It doesn’t make any sense.

We’ve known each other barely thirty-six hours. Yes, we had sex—and it was absolutely the best, most intense sex of my life—but still. That shouldn’t be enough to make things this weird. To tie our feelings all up in knots like they are and bind us together in this strange and comforting way.

And yet, when he wraps an arm around my waist, when he pulls me into his body, I can’t help but sag against him. He supports my weight easily, one hand on my hip as he half-walks, half-carries me through the casino and out the front doors.

There’s a sleek, black Mercedes sitting next to the valet stand and Sebastian ushers me toward it, holding the door for me as I slide into the car’s plush interior. The door slams shut and I rest my head against the back of the seat, close my eyes for a moment.

But I still feel fuzzy, like the world is just a little out of focus, and it’s hard for me to concentrate. Hard for me to do anything, really, but just sit here and stare out into the bright, bright lights of the Strip.

Then Sebastian is climbing in next to me. He’s watching me, I can tell, but I don’t turn my head. Don’t look at him, don’t speak to him. It’s rude, I know, but I can’t seem to help it. Not when it takes so much effort. Everything feels like it takes too much effort right now, even just sitting here.

“Aria.” He says my name softly and I feel myself responding to the soft gravel of his voice, my body straining weakly against the s

eat in an effort to respond the way he needs me to.

I wait impatiently, breath held and body taut as a violin string, for him to say something else. But he doesn’t speak again. Instead, he leans over me and for a moment, just a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. More, I think I’m going to let him even after everything I’ve told myself in the last few hours. That’s the kind of effect he has on me, the kind of control he exerts without trying.

But instead of kissing me, he just grasps the seatbelt and pulls it across my body before buckling it.

I take a shaky breath, feeling relieved and let down all at the same time. But then Sebastian’s hand is there again, rubbing my arm, stroking the sensitive skin at the inside of my wrist. And I feel the tightness leach out of my body. He’s breathing slowly, steadily, as he starts the car, and I can feel my own breathing syncing up with his.