Page 69 of Twisted Play (Cruel Games #1)

EVA

My hands shook as I pulled Tristan’s sweatshirt over my head.

The burner phone sat, dark and silent, on the dresser where I’d left it after sending Carter what he wanted.

My breath hitched. I pressed my palm against my mouth to stifle the sob threatening to tear free.

The metallic taste of fear coated my tongue, sharp and bitter.

Behind me, Cole and Tristan slept tangled together in the king bed, their faces peaceful in the moonlight filtering in through the curtains.

They’d fucked me until I couldn’t think, then they’d held me, whispering promises they couldn’t keep, stroking my hair like I was precious to them instead of the lying, manipulative spy I actually was, even if it was the only way to save my father’s life.

I needed—fuck, what did I need? Silence. Peace. The turmoil in my mind to quiet.

Fuck.

I slipped my feet into hotel slippers, each step toward the door feeling like a betrayal and as necessary as oxygen. My bare legs felt exposed in the hotel corridor, pajama shorts and an oversized sweatshirt hardly appropriate for wandering the halls after midnight.

I found myself outside Alek’s door, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was insane. Stupid. Reckless. He’d be asleep, and I’d wake him up for what? To tell him I was falling apart? To beg him to make the noise in my head stop for just one fucking hour?

Fucked up, Eva.

I raised my hand anyway, knocking softly on the door. Once. Twice.

When he didn’t answer immediately, I turned to leave, shame turning my cheeks red.

“Malyshka?”

The door opened. Alek was shirtless, silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips, the thick muscles of his stomach and arms making my fingers itch to trace the tattoos scattered across his skin. His dark hair was mussed with sleep, and his voice was scratchy.

“What are you—?” His frown deepened as he took in my appearance. “Are you okay?”

Heat flooded my face . “No, I mean yes, I mean—I’m fine. Sorry to wake you up. Sorry. So sorry.”

The words tumbled out in a rush as I backed away, humiliation making my skin crawl. What was I thinking? That he’d care? That he’d— god, Eva, you’re so fucking stupid. He wants a toy, not a hot mess who wakes him up in the middle of the night to cry all over him.

“Eva, come here.”

His voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, rough with sleep but edged with command. I turned back to find nothing but warmth and concern in his deep brown eyes.

“Now,” he said, gentler but no less firm .

One step. Then another. Then— fuck it . I launched myself into his arms, wrapping mine around his waist as the tears I’d been holding back all night finally broke free.

He swore quietly in Russian, backing us into his room and shutting the door. His arms came around me, solid and sure, holding me together while I split at the seams.

“Baby girl,” he murmured against my hair, “what’s wrong?”

I shook my head against his chest, breathing in his scent—something dark and spicy that made my head spin. “This is stupid. I’m stupid. I should go. You don’t want me here?—”

“The fuck you will.” His arms tightened around me, possessive and protective all at once. “And the fuck I don’t. What’s wrong, Eva?”

Everything. I’m drowning. I’m lost. I need you to tell me what to do because I can’t think anymore. Because I can’t fix this.

But I couldn’t say any of that. Couldn’t tell him about Carter, about the playbook I’d already sent. Couldn’t admit I craved his control more than my next breath.

I burst into tears.

Alek sighed, a sound that rumbled through his chest, and rubbed his hands up and down my back in soothing circles that made the knot in my chest loosen just enough to breathe.

When my sobs finally subsided, he tilted my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his gaze. I tried to look away, embarrassed, but he pinched my chin, holding me still.

“Feel better?”

I shrugged, not trusting my voice, better and worse all at once. Better because he was here, solid and real and apparently didn’t mind my breakdown. Worse because this was temporary, and tomorrow, everything would burn. I was reading too much into his kindness anyway.

After another sigh, he pulled me in for a quick hug then stepped back. His eyes swept over me, taking in my tear-stained face, my trembling hands, the guilt that had to be written all over my expression.

“Take off your clothes, malyshka, and kneel beside the sofa.”

My breath caught. Heat flooded my body even as uncertainty twisted in my gut.

“No, I can’t. I should—” I should go. This was a mistake. You don’t want me here like this.

“I told you to take off your clothes and kneel beside the sofa.” His voice was firm but not unkind, patient in the way of someone who could see right through my panic. “Because I want you to take off your clothes and kneel beside the sofa.”

Oh.

“Let me take care of you, malyshka,” he said, his voice rumbling through me, sure and steady.

Don’t think. Just for tonight, don’t think.

I sniffled then drew in a deep, shuddering breath before taking off my borrowed sweatshirt, pulling it over my head with shaking hands.

Then went my slippers, kicked off carelessly.

Finally, my shorts, shoved down over my legs until I stood naked before him, vulnerable and exposed and terrified and turned on all at once.

“Fold them,” Alek said, amusement threading through his voice. When he followed it with, “Good girl,” the praise hit me like a drug, warming my chest and quieting the noise in my head.

Maybe I wasn’t completely pathetic. Maybe he actually liked having me here .

“C’mere, baby girl.” He took my hand when I hesitated, still uncertain whether I was reading this wrong, leading me past the messy bed and toward the sitting area. My eyes caught on the rumpled sheets, the implications of being naked with Alek in his hotel room making my breath hitch.

Does he actually want me here? Or is he just being kind to the pathetic girl crying in his hallway?

Didn’t matter. When my world exploded tomorrow, I’d tell them everything. They’d hate me—all of them—but at least I’d have this. One night of peace before they all learned what I’d already done, who I’d betrayed them to.

Alek grabbed a pillow from the bed as we passed, settling onto the sofa with his knees spread wide. He placed the pillow on the floor between them then looked at me with those dark, knowing eyes.

“Kneel,” he repeated, his voice soft and rough, leaving jagged need in its wake.

I dropped to my knees, facing him, and he immediately tangled his fingers in my hair. The slight pressure made me melt, the constant tension in my shoulders finally releasing.

He tugged until my cheek pressed against his thigh, the heat of him burning through the thin silk of his pajama pants. I could feel his arousal growing harder with my proximity, but he made no move to use me. Instead, he turned on the television and began to stroke my scalp with gentle fingers.

This is sick , I thought as my eyes fluttered closed. I’m sick for wanting this.

But god, the quiet in my head when he told me what to do, the way the constant fear and guilt and shame stopped.

For these precious moments, I didn’t have to be Eva Jackson, spy and liar and destroyer of everything she touched.

I could just be his good girl, safe and protected and exactly where I belonged.

Anxiety crept back in as I worried about Cole and Tristan waking up, about giving Carter what he wanted.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed softly. “Let it go.”

I tried, but the weight of what I’d done sat heavy on my chest. The playbook. The betrayal. The lives I’d probably ruined.

“Baby girl.” Alek’s voice was patient but firm. “I told you to do something.”

“Yes, Sir.” The title fell from my lips automatically, and I forced my eyes closed, tried to sink back into that peaceful place where only his voice mattered.

A few minutes later, he chuckled quietly. “Get comfortable, baby girl.”

My eyes flew open, meeting his.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression turning stern. “I told you to do something.”

“Yes, Sir.” I wiggled until I could lean fully against him, my cheek on his thigh, my shoulder pressed to his knee, his leg supporting my weight.

“That’s my good girl. Now, close your eyes again.”

Insistent knocking dragged me from dreamless sleep. I blinked, disoriented, finding myself stretched out on an unfamiliar couch with a pillow under my cheek and a warm blanket draped over my naked body.

Where—? What ? —?

Memory crashed over me like a wave. My tears. Alek’s gentle commands. Dozing off at his feet while he stroked my hair like I was precious to him .

Alek grumbled as he swung his feet out of the bed, padding toward the door in nothing but silk pajama pants. The network of scars and tattoos across his back caught the dim morning light, and I realized with a start how little I actually knew about this man who’d become my refuge.

He checked the peephole and swore under his breath before he glanced back at me with what might have been regret.

“Brace yourself,” he murmured.

I didn’t understand until he opened the door, his broad shoulders blocking most of my view.

“Coach! We can’t find Eva, and she’s not answering her phone.”

Tristan. My heart stopped.

“She’s fine,” Alek said with one of his great sighs that rippled the muscles of his back.

“How do you know?” Cole’s voice was flat, dangerous.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

This was what Alek meant about bracing myself. I looked around frantically for my clothes.

“How do you know, Coach?” The icy calm of Cole’s voice sent shivers down my spine. I couldn’t do this, couldn’t ruin his relationship with his mentor, couldn’t?—

“That’s Eva’s business, not yours,” Alek said softly, his accent thicker, like when he was stressed or angry.

“The fuck it’s not!” Cole exclaimed.

Alek’s body blocked the door, but if I stood, did anything but lie here like the coward I was, Cole and Tristan would see me.