Risky Play (Red Card #1)(52)

Shirtless.

Tears pricked my eyes.

This was how I was supposed to have woken up in Mexico.

It wasn’t fair.

I tried to slowly pull away.

But he kept me pinned at his side, his nose nuzzling my hair, his voice deep and raspy, and for the first time since working for him, his accent wrapped around me with warmth. My entire body melted.

“Sunday.” He sighed into my neck. “Remember?”

“I know, I just, I have family dinner and—”

“Perfect.” He pulled away, leaving me confused.

“Perfect?” I repeated, voice filled with sleep. “Why is it perfect?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I shook my head. “My dad and I are fighting, and I may not be his favorite person right now.”

“Mack, I would do anything to fight with my father again . . . don’t let something come between you, even if it seems too large to ignore. Work it out.”

I sat up and faced him. “You’re right.”

His eyes lit up. “Damn, it sounds even better than I imagined it.”

I threw a pillow at his head.

He blocked it with his hands and then tackled me against the mattress. “I’m inviting myself.”

“I see that.”

“I’m also taking you out on a date today.”

“And I’m saying yes?”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course, you do know who I am, right?” I could tell he was teasing, though.

“Careful before I suffocate you with that same pillow.”

He smiled and then sobered immediately. “Let me spoil you today.”

I tried to swallow past the knot in my throat and finally got out, “No yelling? Or accusing me of trapping you into marriage?”

He scowled. “If anyone’s trying to trap anyone, it’s me . . . trapping you. And fair warning, Mack, I always play to win.” He lowered his eyes to my chest.

I looked down.

And I was in nothing but my bra and underwear.

I let out a little gasp. “You, you!” I jabbed my finger at him. “You took my clothes off!”

“I asked your permission.” He winked and then got out of bed wearing only a pair of Nike joggers and a smile. “I took your grunt and snore as your stamp of approval.”

I buried my face in my hands and groaned.

“Hey, at least Alfie knows he’s not the only one who makes noises in his sleep.”

I grabbed the sheet and followed him into the massive bathroom just as he dropped his pants and turned on the shower.

I turned away. And nearly passed out when I felt his body behind me, his hands on my shoulders. “Join me.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You really”—he ran his fingers down my arms—“really should.”

“I’d be naked.”

“Most showers take place that way, yes, unless you’d rather wear this sheet?” He pulled it down my body until it pooled at my feet.

Next he was unhooking my bra.

I shivered as it fell to the floor, then swayed as heat pulsed between my thighs the minute those same fingertips tugged down my underwear. I felt both longing and loss when he moved his hands.

“Come on,” he urged. “The water’s hot.”

So it really was a shower?

No seduction?

Why did I feel disappointed when that’s what was necessary so I didn’t get hurt again?

Why was I standing there naked in his bathroom?

I hurried into the walk-in rain shower and nearly moaned when the hot water hit my face.

“See?” He chuckled. “I have all the good ideas.”

“The best ideas . . .” I let the water pour over my face and then opened my eyes.

He was staring at my mouth.

Not my naked skin.

But the thing that he saw every day.

As if he was so obsessed nothing else mattered.

“Slade!” Matt’s voice boomed through the large bathroom. “Seriously, answer your phone, you got the Gucci deal.”

My eyes widened in panic as Slade shoved me against the nearest wall and pressed a finger to my lips.

“I’m naked, don’t come in,” he shouted over his shoulder. I took that opportunity to stare at his dazzling cheekbones, plump lips, and perfect hair even under all the water . . . and gulped.

“You realize I’ve seen you naked more than your own mom, right?”

“Don’t make shit weird, Matt!” he yelled back while I gave him a Really? look.

His eyes narrowed as he ran that same finger down my chin and then tugged my lower lip with his teeth, bringing just enough pain with all the pleasure.

I reached for him, only to have my hands slide down his slick, hard stomach.

“Do you . . . are you? There’s wom—do you have company of the female variety? God, you’re such a jackass. You text me last night lamenting the fact that Jagger and Mackenzie were in the same room together alone—almost fucking crying into a bottle of wine—and now you’re with another woman? See! This is why I told you to stay away! Guys like you don’t deserve pretty trust-fund daughters with more brains than you have in your tiny head!”