Page 15 of Play for Power (Central Sparks #3)

Just another one of our games, I realize, as I focus on Rosie.

The way she is toying with me as she lets another man touch her, kiss her, in ways she knows I’m close to begging for.

Try as I might, I can’t fight the thought that pushes forward: Is she thinking about me?

I know for certain, with my hands trailing Nadia’s body and tasting her mouth, that I’m picturing Rosie.

That it’s her body I’m exploring, her skin I’m finally touching.

Her lips I taste desperately, never wanting to come up for air.

Rosie’s lips open in a gasp, and that’s when I note Hulk’s hand disappearing under her dress.

Burning red fury blurs my vision. My skin is on fire , I can’t help but rip away from Nadia as I watch Rosie’s chest rise and fall from across the room, enraptured by her subtly widening eyes…and then she tipped her head in silent confirmation. Oh shit. He’s going to get her off in the bar.

“Are you okay?” Nadia pants, and when I quickly fix my eyes to find hers, I see the slight glazed-over look of desire before my eyes snatch back on Rosie.

“Caleb?” Nadia’s gentle voice is trying to get my attention, but I can barely hear a thing with the way my heart is thumping like a fucking drum in my chest. I didn’t realize that cold, dead thing still lived.

“No. I’m not,” I answer, still not able to stop my eyes from burning the back of Hulk’s massive body as he touches the girl who owns my mind.

Fuck. My cock is straining painfully in my pants. What is happening right now ?

Am I about three seconds away from yanking Hulk off Rosie so I can punch him in the jaw?

Yes. Am I impossibly turned on and hard as fuck from watching Rosie being pleasured?

Also, yes. Seeing her lips part, knowing she is soaking her underwear and probably thinking about my fingers buried deep inside her? Fucking Christ.

“You like kissing me?” Nadia snickers and pulls my attention back to her, confused about what she is talking about. I quickly correct my attention to meet her eyes, seeing her gesture to the tent in my pants.

“You’re so pretty,” I lie, practically panting, hoping she hadn’t caught my focus locked on Rosie.

“Let’s do it again,” I say and pull Nadia toward me, anything to be able to distract her so I can get my eyes back on Rosie.

This time I kiss her with more force than the pretend-loving-boyfriend from before.

I kiss Nadia desperately, imagining that night from Noah’s birthday and the way Rosie tasted, the way she kissed me like a woman on a mission.

Nadia falls back into my embrace but links her arms around my neck, and when I’m satisfied that she is distracted, I open my eyes and find Rosie still looking at me except she has her back completely pressed up against the booth seating, her fingers dug into the chair as she sits with her legs slightly spread.

Hulk at least has enough decency to block her from anyone seeing, but with the way her head is angled, with the rise and fall of her chest and the direction of his hand, I know exactly what’s going on.

I slip a hand under Nadia’s dress, finding the smooth skin of her thighs, and trail up to find her ass, gripping softly.

I watch as Rosie’s eyes squeeze shut, and I know she’s coming.

I groan into Nadia’s mouth, utterly desperate now for a release.

I watch Rosie’s eyes squeeze even tighter, her perfect lips form the word that does me in.

Caleb.

“Sorry.” I pull away abruptly from Nadia, breathless and losing my ever-loving mind.

“I…I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” I shift out of reach, disentangling myself from the nice girl in front of me, screaming at myself to not look back over to the curly-headed vixen across the bar, who is determined to ruin every last brain cell I have.

“I’m just going to leave,” I mumble to myself, blinking rapidly and turning to the bar to discreetly rearrange my dick.

Annoyed at myself, at the control Rosie has over me when she is in the room, and undoubtedly burning with an anger that’d rival Addison at this point.

He was touching her. He had his lips and his hands on her.

I couldn’t work out what was worse, that I knew what it was like to have my hands and lips on her?

Or that I was ready to explode from being so fucking turned on at the sight of Rosie coming for someone else.

I was right before, I am a fucking mess. I wanted to break the guy’s fingers, tear his arms off, and bleach his fucking eyes for looking at her like that. But I wanted to watch her unravel while calling my name a million times over and I don’t have a clue what the fuck to do about any of it.

Nadia seems unimpressed with the brush-off but is eloquent in the way she smiles and squares her shoulders, moving about the room, I’m sure, looking for her actual Prince Charming.

I scold myself, shaking my head, letting the bartender know I am moving, gesturing to the back corner with a lone booth.

I want to get the fuck out of here. Go home, drown my sorrows and overactive brain in some expensive whiskey.

But another part of me doesn’t trust the people of New York City, and I’m not about to leave Rosie here on her own.

Though, I don’t bother pulling her out from under that muscle head.

My body and my stupid fucking brain might think it has some claim on her, but I know better.

I settle into the booth and the bartender brings over another whiskey.

I scroll through a few of my emails on my phone, glancing over at Rosie as she laughs, smiles, and purrs over a man I wish were me.

Atrocious . I scoff to myself, downing the whiskey, and just a little bit of pride sparks in my chest. Sure, he had touched her, but I know that she thought about me.

It was my name on her lips when she came, and it’s taking the adult in me not to parade around like an overgrown toddler with a participation award at that fact alone.

I sit there for another twenty minutes, my attention moving between keeping a discreet eye on Rosie and working through more of my emails. It isn’t until Rosie makes a move for the entrance that I go to the bar, close out the tab, and follow her out.

I manage to get through the security and out to the fresh air just in time to watch her climb into an Uber—alone, thank fuck. My body finally relaxes as I heave a breath, my head dropping, my chin hitting my chest. So incredibly disappointed with myself.

Who the fuck am I? I don’t do this.

Rosie fucking Garcia had broken my brain.

A reluctant smirk creeps its way to my face at the thought. I can feel the corners of my lips tipping up as I shake my head at myself and order an Uber.

She fucking owns me. And I love it.