Page 7 of Desperate Games

And I’ve been watching her. Waiting.

“Ready?” she says, moving upright and fitting the key to the tiny hole in the doorknob.

She thinks she’s seducing me.

But this? This is the beginning of a long game.

One she’s not ready for.

Not even close.

“I’m ready, Baby. You just tell me if I move too fast for you,” I growl, picking her up before she can step over the threshold and plastering my mouth to hers.

Fuck. She tastes like fever dreams and Orange Crush—the vodka drink with fresh, squeezed orange juice, not the soda.

She wants tonight? That’s fine.

She can have it.

But I want more.

I want all of her.

Mind. Body. Blood.

And I don’t walk away from what’s mine.

Chapter One-Andrea

It’s been two weeks since the wedding, and memories of that night still haunt my dreams.

No, not haunt—consume.

I wake up tangled in sheets, heart racing, skin flushed, thighs slick and aching like I’ve been touched everywhere. Like I’ve been his again.

Because in my dreams, I am.

Remy Falco—gorgeous, naked, hot, and hard—kissing and groping every inch of me, his mouth everywhere, his voice in my ear, his body pressed tight against mine as if he can’t stand a single inch between us.

And when he fills me with that perfect, thick cock of his, I forget how to breathe.

God, he was everything that night.

Rough but careful.

Hungry but sweet.

Commanding in the kind of way that made me feel cherished, not used. Like he’d been waiting for me his whole life and just didn’t know it until I touched him.

I ache remembering how he said my name, or well, the nickname he gave me—Andy—all low and reverent.

Like it meant something.

Like I meant something.

The way he held my face when he kissed me. The way he took his time, even when we were both half-crazy from need. The way he looked at me when he was inside me, like he’d found treasure and wasn’t letting go.

I told myself it was just sex.