Page 40 of The Elusive Billionaire

Ignoring him, I tighten my thigh muscles to hold me steady as I spin the wheel. Right arm green. Damn it, this is going to hurt.

Grey grins up at me. Not a single muscle on him is shaking.

The pasta has long since gone cold, but he insists it’s the rules, so I stab as much of it as I can get and bring it to his mouth. He wraps his lips around the fork with a grin.

He probably got lip injections. If he didn’t, God definitely plays favorites because women everywhere would kill for his lips.

“Right arm green, Monroe.”

Shit. My gaze snaps to his, and I want to scream. He caught me staring at his lips. Again.

I toss the fork to the plate, but it releases none of the tension that’s coiled around us, then I spread out over the top of him even more. Now I’m in a strange version of a plank, our bodies are pressed together from shoulder to knee with my left arm crushed between me and his cock.

My left foot slips, pressing my weight more firmly into his. His cock throbs against my arm and he groans. We’re so close, his breath warms my cheek.

“Ready to give up?” He doesn’t whisper, but his words are low and husky. If I didn’t know better, I might think he was hanging on by a thread. But when I scan his face, all I see is stupidly aggressive determination.

“Grey, if you think I’m about to beg you to fuck me, now or in this lifetime, you’re dumber than I thought.”

He grins, the smile blazing across his face like an out-of-control brush fire prepared to jump streets if that’s what it takes to feed its thirst for destruction.

Somehow, he manages to lift his hips, pressing more tightly into mine, sealing us together. A slight thrust tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing. With his lips hovering near my cheek, he leans toward the wheel and spins. Right foot blue.

The fork clinks against the plate that’s finally nearly empty, and then he’s dropping his neck to give him room to offer me the pasta.

If I’d known being fed by Greyson Reyes would create an erotic scene that will forever play in my fantasies, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to this game of his.

We’re so close that his stare sears into my soul as he studies my face. Each time he feeds me, the muscles in his jaw tick as he draws circles around my face with his eyes.

I swallow, and he follows the movement.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” he growls.

Swallowing again removes the remnants of pasta but also takes all the moisture in my mouth with it.

“Right foot blue.” I remind him.

He moves on autopilot, never once breaking eye contact with me. The new position gives him even more leverage, and he uses it to his advantage, pressing himself more tightly into my body.

“Pasta’s gone.” His words are rough against my ear, and my breaths expel in short, harsh pants. “Maybe it’s time to up the stakes.”

Dear God, I don’t think I can handle more stakes with this man.

“What are your terms?” Oh, Lord. Was that my voice? What is he doing to me?

“Getting naked.”

I scoff, but he grinds his hips against my center, and the sound dies in my throat.

“Y—you’re serious?”

“Desperately.” His whispered word against my ear sends a rush of lust straight to my core.

“How does that even work? You’re not thinking with the right head.”

His lips move against my cheek, and I know without looking that he’s smiling again. I need to start choosing circles that get my face away from his.

“You spin the wheel. Whatever body part you land on is the article of clothing you have to remove from the other person. So, if you get left leg, then you have to get my left leg out of my shorts.”