Page 63 of The Clinch
The scene cuts. Home now, quieter, Spartacus with his wife.
Liz watches a few seconds, then tilts her head, amused. “Look at her. Glowing, not even a smudge. Meanwhile, he looks disgusting.”
“Maybe she has good genetics.”
She laughs, loose and warm, and the sound settles in my chest.
My thumbs move in slow circles. Her foot flexes. She sighs, and her knees ease wider across my lap.
Fuck. Me.
I lock down hard.
Then the show shifts. The music drops lower. The light on screen turns soft. The camera lingers.
As if I needed more problems.
Liz sees it coming too. Her foot tightens under my palms.
On screen, a stunning brunette fills the frame, then lets the cover slip from her shoulders.
I feel the tiny shifts in her legs, a restrained squirm, knees drawing in, then easing back, caught between retreating and staying.
The scene wastes no time. It’s not romantic or gentle, just bodies and need and power. My hands are still on her feet. My thumbs are still moving.
Every time she exhales, her skin hums under my palms. Every time the scene gives her something to react to, it registers in my lap.
Liz’s heel drags against my thigh. It’s a small, accidental friction. But my stomach tightens hard enough to hurt.
She clears her throat and glances at me, then catches me watching her mouth, her flush, the glaze in her eyes as her focus sharpens.
Her gaze snaps away.
“This is...” she starts, then stops. She tries again, lighter. “Unexpected.”
I grab the remote and hit pause. Silence drops into the room, broken only by her breathing. Her head turns toward the TV, then to me, caught between relief and panic.
“What are you doing?” she asks, too quickly.
“Checking in.”
Heat floods her cheeks, and she tries to pull her feet back.
My hands tighten. It’s not hard, not trapping her, just enough to still her.
“Don’t,” I say, quietly.
“Don’t what?”
Instead of answering, I decide to push a little. “Do you like what he’s doing to her?”
“It’s just a show.”
“They’re fucking.” I keep my voice even. “And it’s doing things to you.”
Her eyes widen.
“You’re imagining what it would feel like if I did it to you, aren’t you?”
