Page 72 of The Games We Play

I laugh because, honestly, what else am I going to do? He’s overprotective. And I’m realizing it’s a self-protective mechanism. I’m probably an enabler at this point because I think it’s kind of sweet of him to give me cameras, and I don’t mind extra security. And what fulfills a need in him happens to fulfill a need in me. To feel safe.

His massive palm slaps my ass, not hard, just playfully. He slaps me again, and I grow damp between my thighs. “For not taking better care with your security.”

He places me on the floor in the living room and glances over my shoulder to the back door. “Glad you got a new back door. It’s much better. Could still break in within forty-five seconds though.”

I look up at him. He’s smiling, and the edges of his eyes crinkle with the kind of deep-down happiness we all find ourselves chasing. It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him, and I fall into that with him. Just happy to be around him.

“You beat up the landlord to make him come around and fix stuff, didn’t you?”

“Let’s just say I persuaded him.”

I think for a moment. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with Dylan Shires’s dad looking like the walking wounded at school pickup, would you?”

He bends and presses his nose to my neck. “Come home with me,” he mutters.

I tilt to give him more access. “Dylan Shires’s dad?”

His lips curve against my skin. “Not my fault the guy can’t keep his fingers out of a vise.”

It should horrify me. “You don’t have to beat up everyone for me.”

He cups my cheeks. “I’d kill anyone who hurt you in a heartbeat. Come and stay the night with me. Hell, stay forever.”

Forever. My heart trips at the idea.

I wish I could.

“I’ll go pack a bag.”

As I walk down the stairs, Spark is glaring at his phone. “Motherfucking bitch. We gotta go, Iris. My ex is attempting to break into my house.”

Spark drives like a demon, and I hold on for dear life. When we pull up outside, there is a car in the driveway. Spark takes a second to help me off the bike, and then he’s racing up the steps and into the house through the open front door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sam?” he shouts. When I catch up with him, he’s glaring at a woman in the living room. She’s pretty. No, she’s beautiful. Curvy, with perfectly waved hair, unlike my curls. She’s wearing a tight black dress with sneakers. Red lips. I bank the irrational flash of jealousy. He’s here with me.

“Tyler,” she says. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

“You go to your mom’s. You don’t break in here.”

She pulls a key from her cleavage. “I didn’t break in. Technically the house is half mine.”

“And technically, you agreed to get the fuck out of a house I paid for and go with the guy you’d rather be with than me.”

“I’ll just go wait on the porch,” I say, but Spark reaches for my hand.

“No. She leaves, not you.”

Sam narrows her eyes in my direction. She looks me up and down and clearly finds me lacking. Compared to her, I feel it a little, until Spark squeezes my hand, reassuring me that he knows I’m right here and picks me.

“He woken up and tried to strangle you in the night yet?” she asks.

“Get out,” Spark growls.

I step forward. “I think you need to leave.”

“I need money,” she says. “I asked nicely. Now I’m demanding. I need five grand to drive off and never come back.”

Spark reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, but I place my hand over his to stop him.