Page 51 of Play for Power (Central Sparks #3)

“I usually sleep naked, just so you know.” He’s downright jovial as he tosses his towel.

“And I’m a natural cuddle sleeper. One time, I woke up wrapped around Noah when we stayed in a hotel, there was a mix-up with the rooms…

it’s a long story. When you have me poking around your back, you can just push me off?—”

“Shut up. Hang on, what are you talking about?” I think my brain is short-circuiting; he’s fluffing the fucking pillow before he lies down, looking at me.

“Noah and I, we had to stay in LA for a conference and we asked for two beds and we got stuck with one?—”

“No, you idiot, why are you not asking me to leave?”

“You just asked to stay over…I can make pancakes tomorrow.” He has that injured puppy look about him again and it only adds to my confusion.

My mouth opens and closes a few times, fighting between arguing my point and also asking how he knows how to make pancakes, and if he does them to-go because, fuck, I love me some breakfast. Completely at a loss, I take a few steps toward him and fling the sheet off him.

“Hey—”

“You have to kick me out! I don’t do sleepovers. We don’t do sleepovers.”

“Rosebud, wha?—”

“Stop calling me Rosebud!” I’m unraveling, but I don’t care.

I’m losing control of this entire situation and I need to get out of this man’s space.

This man, who throws everything off balance.

“Stop getting comfortable. Why are you naked again?” I gesture wildly like I’m one of those ridiculous inflatable tube men.

I don’t need any of this right now; tonight was enough confusion to last me a million years.

I spin around the room, collecting my shoes and dress, my panties and my purse.

I reach and unplug my phone before making a mad dash to his bedroom door.

When it’s open, I turn to look at him, making sure he is laughing because he was just joking, and obviously he was just about to ask me to leave.

But instead, I find him looking at me completely baffled, perhaps even a touch embarrassed, given his cheeks are slightly pink.

I bend, picking up his boxers and throwing them at him.

He makes quick work of stepping into them as I spin on a heel.

I head into the living room and beeline for the front door.

“Rosie,” he calls, and I hear his quick steps behind me. I pause, letting my eyes find his, keeping my body facing the exit so that I can make a quick escape.

“What?” I sigh, failing to hide the catch in my throat.

“Will you just talk ?—”

“Nope. No more talking, I need to go.” I yank open his front door, and he’s there, pressing a hand to the center of it and slamming it closed.

I feel my crazy take control as I spin my wild eyes on him, feeling them burn with a strange ache behind them as I glare up at him.

The glare that has most men tucking their tails between their legs, usually Caleb included.

But now? Right now, Caleb throws the same frustration right back at me, his cheeks still lightly blushed, though every line of his face is taut.

Why is he fighting me on this? I don’t understand the way he looks at me. With frustration, but adoration? But…I’m meant to leave, it’s casual sex.

This is how it’s meant to be. Sex, shower, leave.

“I invited you to stay, what is happening right now?” His voice is deeper, giving way to the rising frustration I can see in his face.

“That was a joke, you were meant to panic and kick me out so I didn’t have to be the one to do it. That wasn’t real.” His feet choose that moment to plant themselves, and he becomes a brick wall between me and the door.

“Wait a minute.” His annoyance turns into something resembling anger as he steps into my space.

“You only asked to stay thinking I’d freak out, boot you out at two in the morning, and slam the door on your ass, letting you find your own way home, all alone in the middle of the night?

” Well, when he says it like that, I sound a little like an idiot.

I move away, my arms wrapping around me, not liking the accusation in his usually kind eyes.

“Do you have any idea how much I love breakfast, Rosie? It’s the most important meal of the day.” I almost laugh at him…but his expression seems to leave no room for humor. The seriousness in which he takes breakfast makes me want to laugh even more.

I love breakfast too.

“You think I hear you say you want to sleep in a bed next to me, where you’re just there, a sexy little sleepy vixen, with the possibility of morning sex and then food after a good eight hours, and possibly even post-breakfast sex, and I was what?

Going to say, ‘fuck nah’ and make you leave?

Have you lost your mind?” His arms are out by his sides and he looks downright mad.

Why is that so hot?

“Wha—No, you—Wait, what?” I can’t even compute anything he’s said.

“Are we not friends?” His arms drop limp. “Were we not friends first?” The pain in his voice is like a bucket of cold water, dousing any and all the tension between us.

“Well…yeah. We are.” My voice is quiet and I wish like hell I could find my volume, but Caleb has never lost his shit like this. Add to the fact he’s almost naked, I have no idea how to handle this situation.

“Then what the fuck, Rosie?” He huffs a defeated breath and something like a laugh, shaking his head and combing a hand through his hair.

“What do you want from me, Caleb?” I breathe the words, and his eyes harden slightly again. Closing the distance, his hand grasps my jaw tightly, in a way that has air leaving my lungs and my lady bits reawakening.

Down girl…it’s bedtime.

“Respect, Rosie. And I don’t just want it, I’ve earned that.

We’ve talked and hung out platonically more than we have fucked.

I mean, tonight was something else all on its own.

Your family shit? The award? Everything we talked about?

” He drops his arm, looking utterly defeated, and I have to bury the remorse that’s trying to climb up my throat.

“Jesus, Rosie. If you don’t want to stay, just fucking say so.

As much as I love to play with you, quit your mind games.

I’m not some desperate tween looking for a snuggle buddy.

Use me, use my body like we agreed, but you can still treat me like the human being I am.

” He basically growls the words in my face, his eyes switching between mine, searching for something when they soften, only slightly.

He shakes his head, backing away slightly.

Gripping the door handle, he rips it open and leans against it, gesturing for me to leave.

I look out to the hall and then back at him.

“I’m not going to force you to stay, Rosebud.

But it’s your loss. My pancakes are killer.

” He winks, but it’s a farce. I can see that.

It’s fake and it’s masking a lot of emotions he’s fighting—and succeeding—at hiding from me.

His playful words don’t match his exhausted tone, and I can feel how pink my cheeks are. Not from blushing…from shame.

I take the few steps toward the entrance, and when I’m at the threshold, Caleb reaches up and lightly grips my arm. “Order the Uber here. You’re not going down there until the car is at the curb,” he says, with indifference.

“I’ll be fine.” I try to give him my best smile, but I know that he knows it isn’t real.

“I wasn’t asking, Rosie.” He crosses his arms then, blocking me from leaving.

Tired and just really wanting to get home, I order the Uber, and thankfully there is one just around the corner, only a minute away.

By the time I get down to the foyer, he’ll be there.

I flip the phone around to show him and he gestures for me to walk out the door.

After I take the steps out, I hear his door close.

I hate that I flinch at the sudden barrier between us, and for whatever reason, I turn to stare at his door…

maybe I’m questioning whether I should go back and take him up on his offer for pancakes.

But when I turn, I see him on this side of the closed door.

“What…what are you doing?”

“Walking you down.” He walks past me—in his boxers— and presses the ground floor button on the elevator.

He holds it open and I take the few steps between me and the elevator, dazed and so unsure.

Once I’m in, he presses the button to close the doors, before leaning back against the wall of the elevator.

Only a few feet between us, but it almost feels like a chasm has split right down the middle; I feel a world away from him right now.

I hate everything about it.

The doors slide open, we head to the foyer, and my phone pings.

I see the driver outside the doors, and I go to push through, not looking back, because it feels like I’m floating on a cloud and my mind doesn’t feel like it belongs to me right now.

Neither does my chest, nor my feet; my whole body is operating on its own, not wanting to leave but thankfully listening to the instructions my brain is firing off.

Before I can clear the exit, Caleb’s grip on my arm firmly spins and pulls me into his chest. His lips take mine in a quick and searing kiss.

It doesn’t linger, he doesn’t take it deeper, but something about the way his lips press against mine, the way his grip on my face feels desperate, I lose my breath entirely.

He pulls back, panting, his eyes crazed under his creased brows, and I feel my heartbeat match the rise and fall of his chest.

“I should go,” I whisper.

“I’ll call you.”

I reach my hands to his, which are framing my face, and I pull them off me. He grips my hands, and as I walk back, he lets me pull myself from him, making an effort not to be the one to let go first. I force myself to turn away and head for the car.

The driver confirms who I am before he pulls out, heading for my apartment. I settle back into the seat, my eyes falling closed as a breath leaves my lungs.

Fuck, Rosie. What are you doing?