A Game Of Temptation

I slept in his room that night.

It wasn’t something that I’s consciously done; By the time he was done with me, the only thing that had been on my mind was sleep and I’d slipped right into it without giving a damn whose bed-or room-it was.

Then I’d woken up the next morning, sat up on the bed, blinked at the strangeness of the place, then I’d turned, taken one look at the sexy hunk of a man lying beside me-the same one who’d had his hands firmly around me like he hadn’t wanted to let go even in his sleep-at the tattoos bared with the sheets around his waist, and I hadn’t felt so bad about not waking up in my own room.

So what had I done?

I’d woken him up with a blowjob, alternating between sucking his dick and tracing his tattoos with my tongue. Then after quite some time of lazing there like a king, simply enjoying my attentions on him, he’d flipped us around and fucked the shit out of me-with me facing away from him.

I was shitting all over my rules and it wasn’t half as bad as I’d thought it would be. Actually, I loved it.

Fast forward to the present. I was sitting on his bed, waiting for him to fish out something from his closet that I could wear-again-because try as I might, I couldn’t walk out of here in the same flimsy gown I’d worn last night without feeling like I’d had a one night stand and gotten kicked out of the room before it even got bright out.

He came back out with clothes clutched in his hand. I looked anywhere but at him when he produced the blue T-shirt, then I laughed when he showed me the briefs he’d snagged alongside it.

“What?” He grinned. “They’re new.”

Rising from the bed, I wore the shirt, hyper aware of Alex’s eyes on me the entire time. I contemplated leaving with just the shirt. I mean, it already hung to my knees and if by chance I miraculously ran into anyone in the hallway, they wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing. I was covered.

But then I turned and saw the way he was looking at me. Like the mere sight of me in this baggy-as-hell shirt was sexy and he wanted to eat me up, and I knew that it wasn’t entirely about me being covered. He wanted to see his things on me.

I tried to convince myself that the only reason why I was collecting the briefs from him and wearing it was because I wanted to, and not because he wanted me to. Definitely not to satisfy him. To please him. But even if my mind wanted to lie, my body couldn’t, and it was why dragging the material up my legs was ten times hotter than it should have been.

It felt like he was watching me undress-when I was doing the actual opposite.

I felt weird and horny and all kinds of shit.

Tightening my hands around my dress, I hugged it to my chest. “Okay…um…see you later, I guess.”

Jesus. Why did that sound more like a question than a statement?

First thing when I was safely inside my room, I was going to bang my head against the wall repeatedly until whatever had gone wrong in there became right again, because I obviously wasn’t thinking well as it was.

My hand was already on the doorknob, turning it, when I felt a tug on my hand. My chest collided with Alex’s as he swooped down and kissed me. It was a slow and sensual kiss, and it made my toes curl.

I didn’t even realise that I’d dropped my gown until he broke the kiss with one final swipe of his tongue against mine, bent to retrieve the gown, shoved it back into my hands, then gave my ass a playful smack.

“I’ll see you.”

He would.

God help me, I was starting to believe that he really would, and that he wouldn’t have to strong-arm me into going. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if I picked up the phone the minute I got back home in New York and asked to see him.

What was happening to me? Was he casting some sort of spell on me?

That was the only explanation I had as to why I acted the way I did when I was around him.

With every step I took, I felt the echoes of what did last night. More-than-subtle reminders of the way he had felt inside me. How he’d moved. How he’d worked my body like he was the master of it. And maybe he was.

It was crazy how freakishly good he was at it. I hadn’t given much thought to it before because I didn’t particularly care-I’d gotten orgasms, he’d gotten his; we were good-but now that I was actually thinking about it, a person didn’t get that good without practice. Lots of it.

Years and years of it.

Okay, and?

He wasn’t the only one that had been-hell, how was I thinking this with a straight face?-practicing. I had too, and I didn’t see him giving me shit about it. Even though I technically wasn’t giving him shit right now. He probably wasn’t thinking about it either.

Was this me being a hypocrite? And for what reason?

Why did I suddenly care if he’d had years of practice with other women? Why was it eating me up so badly?

Shaking my head-and the uncomfortable thoughts away-I went inside my room and shut the door. I still had time to arrange the last of my stuff before we needed to leave, and I was doing just that when I heard a light knock on my door.

It was terribly shameful, the way my heart sped up at the prospect that Alex had not been able to stop thinking about me either and that he’d come. My steps were measured, forcefully controlled, as I made my way over and pulled the door open.

I had never felt so disappointed to see Balery’s excited face.

Seriously. What was she even doing in my room at 6:30 on the day we went back home when she should have been screwing her husband’s brains out?

Stepping out of the way, I made room for her to pass. I could literally feel the excited energy rolling off of her. Knowing Balery, she’d probably been watching us through the curtains as Alex and I went on our date. Maybe she’d even stood there and waited for us until we’d come back. I wouldn’t put it past her.

She was a sweet thing. But she was also crazy.

Sometimes.

“So…” she began, drawing out the word as she perched her bottom on the edge of my bed, steepling her fingers in front of her. Why did she suddenly look like my high school principal? “Is there any particular reason why you’re up so early?”

I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Yes, there is. I’m packing.”

She couldn’t prove that it was a lie because it actually was the truth. I mean, my clothes weren’t why I’d woken up at five-they definitely had nothing to do with where my mouth had been just an hour ago-but I was packing, and she could see that from my open bags.

A frown settled over her face, and she decided to use another tactic. “I noticed you weren’t in your room last night.”

Rolling my eyes again, I went back to packing. “Are you trying to ask if I went on a date with Alex last night?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “Because I did. It was divine. Then we came back home and fucked within an inch of our lives.” I paused. “That, too, was divine.”

She was silent for a while. Such a long while that I had to stop what I was doing and turn to look at her. Her mouth was hanging open, her cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. She looked like I did this morning after Alex had given me two orgasms. I know because I’d caught my expression in the mirror when I’d gone into his bathroom to clean up.

“Earth to Balery.”

She blinked, shifted on the bed, then cleared her throat loudly. She looked sort of lost for a moment, as though confused by her surroundings. Then the look of confusion gave way to a wide smile. “A date?!”

I blinked. Was that what I’d called it?

Whatever. I wasn’t in the mood to think about what yesterday was and what it wasn’t because that would only make me think about the man and I was actively trying to avoid that.

“Mhm.” I shrugged like it was no big deal and went back to packing just so that I could have something to do with my hands. So that she wouldn’t have to see the expression on my face and call me out on my lie, the big fat liar that I was now turning into whenever it concerned Alex.

Ugh.

“Are you…” She started. Stopped. “Are you guys going to keep seeing each other?”

I sighed, crushed by the heavy weight of my pretentious facade.NôvelDrama.Org © content.

Wasn’t that the main problem?