Page 35 of Desperate Games

It’s a challenge. A desperate whisper. A game. A test.

But we both know he already knows the answer.

My cheeks burn, but I don’t look away. Finally, I open my mouth.

“I want you,” I say, voice barely above a breath.

He doesn’t move right away.

Just watches me, his jaw tight, something fierce flickering behind his eyes.

Like he’s trying to decide if I mean it. If I’m strong enough to handle what comes next.

Spoiler alert: I’m not sure if I am. But I want it anyway.

“Fuck. I didn’t want you to think I planned this, Andy. I don’t have protection on me,” he says, eyes glittering, voice rough like gravel.

“You don’t need it,” I shoot back, instantly regretting it because now I’m blushing like a fourteen-year-old virgin and oh my God I need a do-over.

God, I should just tell him the truth. I should confess all my plans. Tell him I want a baby.

I should tell him that’s what this is all really about. That he doesn’t need protection not because I’m on birth control, but because of the opposite.

According to the little stick I peed on earlier, I’m ovulating.

That’s the only reason he’s here.

Sure, tell yourself that, Andrea.

It’s about getting pregnant.

It’s not about the fact that my body heats up and gets slick just from looking at him.

Or the fact my pussy clenches on air when I remember our one night of passion.

Nope. Not at all.

And I am just about to come clean, to tell him everything when I glance up into his emerald eyes, but then Remy—he just grins.

Not smug. Not cocky.

Hungry.

I forget how to breathe. And just like that, all my good intentions fly out the window.

“You sure about this?” he asks, and this time, the words aren’t just about tonight.

They’re about everything.

And I nod.

Because whatever happens next?

I want it. I want him.

Even if he ruins me.

Especially if he does.