Page 62 of Playing Her Game

Anna said she’s ordering the most expensive thing on the menu

“I did not!” She laughs.

Gabe:

Alright, you kids don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

Rez:

Mind your business.

Gabe:

Love you, asshole.

Rez:

Unfortunately, same.

Anna smiles, “And you found your people too.”

CHAPTER 11

GAME ON

Anna

Iblink, registering the soft daylight trying to spill through the curtains, snow still falling, falling, falling…

Rez is warm beside me, his presence grounding and unexpectedly comforting. His arm draped over my waist, the steady rhythm of his breath lulling me into a peace I haven’t felt in ages. I savor the quiet moments, the simplicity of just being here with him, as well as the sweet ache between my legs from last night, the tender soreness that pulses faintly every time I shift against the sheets.

He stirs, his hold on me tightening gently. His voice, still husky from sleep, breaks the silence. “Morning, fancy.”

I turn my head slightly, meeting his eyes. “Morning. Still think I’m fancy?”

“Absolutely,” Rez replies, a grin stretching across his face.

The blissful laziness of our morning is interrupted by reality. He has practice, and soon our little sanctuary will be left behind. We both know his schedule waits for no one, not even us.

“I wish you didn’t have practice today.”

His fingers trail lightly along my arm, sending a shiver through me despite myself. “Trust me, I’m right there with you.”

We lay there another moment or two, caught between now and what comes next. Eventually, though, we move forward.

Reluctantly, I slip from the bed. “I suppose we should get up.”

Rez props himself up on his elbow, watching me with an almost possessive expression, yet utterly respectful. “If we must.”

“We must.” I laugh, knowing we only have limited time before his day pulls him away.

As if reading my mind, he catches my hand and tugs gently, leading the way to the shower. The water rushes around us, steam rising thick and warm as he steps in behind me, his chest pressing flush against my back, his hands settling on my hips.

“See, showers can be fancy too,” he murmurs against the curve of my neck, his lips brushing just below my ear.

“Fancy showers,” I muse, turning in his arms to loop my hands around his neck. “You really are something else.”

His laugh is low, vibrating against my collarbone. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”