Page 26 of Play the Part (Marsford Bay #2)

HUXLEY

I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

Connie is a walking contradiction. Every time I think I have her figured out, she goes and does something that has me questioning her intentions and mine.

She’s so fucking frustrating.

Sometimes, I just can’t stand the sight of her. But I can’t stay away for long either. She’s catnip, and I’m a feral cat. For once in my life, I feel alive. And maybe this tug-of-war between us is actually leading me toward something good. As frustrating as she is, I haven’t lost my patience yet .

“Shit,” Connie says under her breath.

It’s Monday morning and, as usual, Connie is driving us to work. The car still reeks from our tense conversation last night, like a sentient perfume digging its claws directly into my brain. I ignore it as best I can.

Letting my head fall to the side, I look at Connie driving.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” she says. Her eyes are on the road, but she’s clearly distracted. “It’s just that I realized I left my laptop back in my hotel room.”

“So, let’s go get it.”

She glances over. “You sure? I don’t want to make you late.”

I shrug. “Whit won’t mind.” I pull my phone out. “I’ll just text him.”

“Okay, great,” she says, sounding relieved. “It won’t be a big detour.” She bangs a uey. “We’re not far from my hotel.”

A few minutes later, she parks in front of the hotel entrance, and I let out a long whistle.

“So you’re rich, rich.”

She laughs as she takes her seatbelt off. “The suites are pretty affordable, actually.”

When she hears my seatbelt click open, she looks up.

“What are you doing?”

Her question sounds more like a warning, but I ignore her tone.

“Coming up with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

I shoot her a searing look and hope my intimidation will work on her this time. It’s always a hit or miss with her.

“I’m not waiting in the car like your lap dog. Plus, I want to see how the other half lives.”

She scoffs, then shoots me a quick smirk. “If you stay in the car, I’ll call you a good boy afterward.”

Rationally, I know that her comment was meant as a joke, but my body immediately tingles all over, the words good boy ringing in my ears.

Suddenly, there’s a lot more I want to hear coming out of Connie’s mouth.

I try to hide my reaction, but by how her smile slowly fades, I’m not doing a very good job of it.

The familiar electric charge between us returns full force, but Connie is quick to move on.

“Fine, you can come up. Just don’t touch any of my shit.”

I conceal my grin by turning to open the door, my expression back to casual disinterest by the time I round the car and meet up with her. Connie tells the valet she’ll be right back, but gives them her keys just in case before we walk in.

The interior of the hotel is even fancier than the outside. I lack the words to describe the decor; all I know is that everything is imposing and shiny. It’s also impossibly quiet as we head for the elevators, as if rich people live on a different sound frequency than the rest of us.

I feel the divide between my world and Connie’s widen as the elevator doors slide closed. She swipes her card before pressing the PH button. My skin starts to itch. We don’t speak, our eyes glued to the flashing floor numbers rising.

Our tense silence is at an all-time high by the time she opens her hotel room door.

I had no intention to come on to Connie when I invited myself up.

I just wanted to press a few of her buttons and ruffle some feathers.

But now, watching her step into her suite, glancing back at me as I follow her in, it’s unclear where either of our intentions lie.

“This is it,” she mutters. Bending down, she unzips her boots. “Take those off if you plan to sniff around. I don’t want that winter muck on the carpets.”

I snort under my breath but do as she says, unlacing my boots as she steps further into the living room area.

“I think it’s in the bedroom,” she says, obviously talking about her laptop.

She disappears through a doorway, leaving me standing in my socks near the door.

My eyes sweep around the room.

Connie’s personal belongings are everywhere I look.

A pair of jeans over the back of the couch.

A hairbrush on the coffee table. A phone charger hanging from the wall.

Something about seeing her life out in the open like this feels too intimate.

I look away and turn around, spotting the door leading to the bathroom.

It probably looks like a fucking spaceship in there.

Curious, I stroll in, hands in my pockets. The bathroom is huge for a hotel room. Then again, how the hell would I know? I’ve never seen anything but the interiors of rundown motel rooms in Pecket. I’m almost done with my quick perusal when something in the shower catches my eye.

“What is that ?”

My voice is loud enough to drift out into the living room, and I hear Connie screech.

“Oh my god!” she says, her footsteps fast approaching until she runs into the bathroom with wild eyes. “Close your eyes! Get out of there!”

She dives in front of the shower glass, trying to block my view, but it’s too late; I’ll never unsee the dildo suctioned onto the shower wall.

I bark out a laugh while Connie blushes profusely.

“Kinky,” I casually tease as I lean on the side of the sink.

She huffs and rolls her eyes. Her body language shifts as if trying to save face, and she straightens her shoulders, crossing her arms.

“It’s really not,” she says with an annoyed tone.

“Oh? So every girl you know has a dildo in their shower?”

She shoots daggers at me with her eyes, and my grin widens. Before she has time to come up with a smart-ass response, I step closer to her.

“Is that where you do all your thinking?” Connie doesn’t move.

Doesn’t react. I take another step forward.

“What do you think about, huh?” I grab one of her belt loops and drag her closer.

Her eyes grow wide, but she stays silent.

My voice is lower when I speak next, my head cocked to the side, inches from her face. “You think about me, don’t you, baby?”

Her shocked reaction has me wishing my finger was on her pulse just to feel the effect those words had on her.

This time, when she speaks, her tone is not as self-assured. Her voice is a lot quieter and hesitant, almost a mumble. “You wish.”

I rarely feel like I have control over Connie, but right now, I do. It’s going to my head fast . I slowly drag my gaze down her body and then back up, my finger still hooked on her jeans.

“I wish for a lot of things.” I smile tauntingly. “More money. A luckier life. But right now, the only thing I’m wishing for is for you to show me how you use that thing.”

I’m eighty percent sure she’ll tell me to fuck off, but there’s still a twenty percent chance I witness a miracle today. She stares at me as if actually considering this, and my heart rate quickens while she fidgets with the gold ring on her finger.

“We’ll be late for work.”

Her voice is so low, I barely hear her even though I’m standing right next to her. I don’t miss a beat, refusing for this moment to pass like all the ones that came before it.

“We’re already late.”

The silence returns, coiling around our limbs, threatening to snap a bone.

I can tell the very second Connie changes from apprehensive to determined. She cocks a brow, her face deadly serious when she finally speaks. “Put some music on.”

Holy.

Shit.

I swallow hard and lick my lips, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Sure.”

Walking backwards until I hit the counter behind me, I fish my phone out of my jeans pocket. I pick the playlist I made for our car rides together and slam my phone down, in a hurry to see what Connie does next. We lock eyes, and a faint grin appears on her face.

I’m already forgetting how to breathe.

She lets the first song play for a few seconds before beginning to take her long winter coat off. It slips down her shoulders, then holds it away from her body with one arm. With a flick of her fingers, she drops it to the ground, her eyes fixed on me.

I’m not sure how I’ll survive her undressing in front of me like this.

Next, she turns and leans into the shower, turning on the water before stepping back out. Facing me again, she pulls her knit sweater over her head, her red hair tumbling down over her shoulder when it’s all the way off.

The song’s tempo picks up, it’s now just as fast as my beating heart.

This isn’t a slow, sultry striptease. It’s a declaration of war.

I forget what to do with my hands.

I cross my arms, uncross them, and then lean back on the counter.

Her t-shirt comes off next. The effect is as violent as a punch to the gut. Freckles pepper her shoulders and arms, and her black bra is see-through, the shadow of her hard nipples peeking through the fabric.

This is fucking torture.

But I don’t move from my spot as I watch her unbutton her jeans and slowly push them down her legs, revealing striped blue panties underneath.

I grow harder by the second, my cock pressing against my jeans. She’s so fucking beautiful, it’s almost painful to look at her. But I’d rather die a painful death than look away.

Memories of our one-night stand flash in my mind as she reaches for the back of her bra and unhooks it. Her hungry gaze studies me when she drops it next to her feet.

I realize this is the first time I’ll see her fully naked.

And I’m having a hard time keeping calm.

She doesn’t waste any more time after that. Hooking her thumbs under the sides of her panties, she pulls them down so they fall to her feet. The steam of the hot water rises behind her as she steps out of them.

Connie is now naked, standing in front of me.

She’s naked because of me.

I am witnessing a miracle today.

There’s a blush crawling up her chest and neck, and I wish I could press my palm against her skin so I can feel the heat seep into my veins. It’d keep me warm for lifetimes.

Breaking eye contact, she turns and steps into the shower. It’s open-concept, with tiles on the floor and walls with a glass panel dividing us.

I shift a few steps to the right to get a better view.

The music changes to something a little angstier. I consider skipping the song, but the ache it conjures up inside of me is just as addictive as the sight of her right now.

Facing away from the shower head, she closes her eyes and tilts her head. The water sluices down her hair and body as she drags both hands over her hair and down the back of her head.

She then lets one hand drift down her stomach, her eyes still closed. When her hand reaches the center of her legs, her mouth falls open, and I think I might lose my mind. My balls squeeze painfully, and my fingers grip the counter as I try to choke in an inhale.

Her lids flutter, finding my gaze through the glass.

I’m a fucking deer in headlights.

She steps toward the toy, her body now just a few breaths away from the jet of water.

Her expression is serious but wanton when she faces me.

Reaching around, her hand wraps around the silicone dildo.

Although I don’t technically see her do it, I can picture it vividly.

She bends over, and her gaze stays fixed, watching me through her eyelashes.

Her breasts pull taut with the weight of gravity, water dripping down from her nipples.

Not being able to watch her from behind is a special kind of torture. I can only imagine her pussy stretching around the thick head of the toy. I do just that when I watch her lips part, the moan lost somewhere between the sound of the shower and music.

The edge I’m teetering over is excruciating, and I might be a masochist because the pleasure it gives me is just as intense.

She starts rocking back and forth, fucking herself on the dildo, and I consider crawling on my knees to have a better look. Her gaze is pure fire. Visual adrenaline, the flames burning me raw.

While one of her hands claws at the wall beside her, the other finds its way back to her clit.

“ Fuck ,” she moans just loud enough for me to hear, closing her eyes with the pleasure she’s giving herself.

With the sound of her voice, I can’t bear being this far away any longer.

Not when her eyes fly back open and something in her devouring gaze tells me she’s close to coming.

I push off the counter and stalk toward the shower just as her rhythm picks up.

Her moans rise higher and higher in volume as her tits bounce with the fast-paced movement.

An unexpected wave of pleasure barrels through my body, and I shakily exhale before my hand wraps around the edge of the glass pane, my eyes locked on hers.

I watch the orgasm possess her, her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy, and I wonder if I’m about to come too just by watching her.

Her eyes snap back open. She surprises me by quickly straightening up and gripping my coat, pulling me into the shower.

Her lips are warm when they find mine.

She craves me.

Me.

My mind empties, and I become this giant mass of need .

I wrap my arms around her, my hands smoothing up and down her wet back, then down to her ass, squeezing it with hungry palms. We stumble into the jet of water, my clothes quickly getting soaked, but I don’t care.

Not when my dream girl is finally kissing me.

Not when I just watched her fall apart for me.

Turning us around, I push her into the glass pane, my hands now holding the sides of her face, deepening our kiss. Connie’s giggle bubbles out of her lips as she grips the back of my wet shirt with her hand.

“You’re soaked,” she says against my lips, giggling again.

I smile, kissing her again and again, feeling weightless and free.

“Like I give a shit.”