Bingo. Truth shall set me free. There’s the answer. I just want another chance when I’ve never wanted one before.

And therein lies the second question, another chance at what though?

I shake the thought, her eyes asking me to finish the question I left hanging. “… but I seem to have neglected to collect my trophy.”

“Trophy?”

Hmm. Maybe not such a good idea, now that I think about it. Fix this, Donavan. Fix how you just compared her to something that sits on the shelf and collects dust.

Play, player, play.

“Yes. You.” I reach for her hand and pull her into me. Her breath hitches: check. Her heart’s pounding: check.

I’ve still got my game despite feeling like she knocked it off its field last night. Thank fuck for that.

And then she looks up at me and that damn defiance is back, and I know we’re about to go a round. She might be affected but fuck if she’s going to back down. Let’s see if this gets us where we need to be.

Bring it on, baby.

“Well, Ace, I think you’ve got your eyes on the wrong prize.” She pushes against my chest and steps back, a smirk on her face. “If all you’re looking for is a trophy, you have your bevy of beauties you can pick from. I’m sure that one of them would be more than willing to be a trophy on your arm.” She steps past me and when she turns around, our eyes meet and she holds her ground. “You could probably start by calling Raquel, is it? I’m sure she’ll forgive you for last night. I mean, you were … decent. She’s probably thrilled with decent.”

Knee-jerk reaction has me grabbing her arm and spinning her around when she goes to walk away again.

Decent? Decent? You want to play dirty, huh? I have a whole chest full of toys we can use if you want to go that route, but first things first.

“Decent, huh?” I step in closer to her, wanting so bad to taste the defiance on her lips but refraining. I came here today expecting to find her hurt and all I’m getting is obstinance. I’m confused how the woman who left me last night with tears in her eyes is the same fucking one that stands before me. What has happened in the last ten hours? Shit, I came here to apologize, salvage the chance to have her again so I can figure out what the fuck kind of hold she has over me. Try to see what it is about her that has me coming back for seconds when I prefer my meals to be more varied because shit, if you keep on moving, keep on sampling, no one can get too close.

I’m trying to figure this all out and then she goes and calls my abilities on the carpet when we both know last night was anything but decent. Hell, she blew the doors off the damn bedroom and chiseled away at everything I guard. She wants to pretend I was decent, that she’s wasn’t affected? Go right ahead because I know avoidance when I see it and fuck if she’s not using this newfound confidence to cover something up. The question is what?

And that in itself is comical since I’m the king of avoidance.

Interesting.

She stares at me as I try to make sense of this new set of unspoken rules. Her eyes flicker with amusement, her words still hanging in the air between us, still taunting me, still tempting me.

And fuck it. I’m all in. Play me, Ryles, because I’m just getting warmed up. The two of us can pretend we’re whole, void of baggage, and see how far that gets us. Objective just went from getting another chance at who the fuck knows what to working that sweet spot between her thighs again so she has no option but to admit she’s wrong. Admit that her description of decent would be fan-fucking-orgasmic if she were speaking about any other man’s skills. And then even though I don’t want to care, don’t want to fuck with another person’s demons, I’m going to figure out what the hell she’s hiding.

Decent walks away and doesn’t care. Decent gets themselves off without thinking of the other person’s needs. Fucking decent, my ass.

She bites her bottom lip deliberately and flutters her lashes like she’s innocent. Damn tease. “Hmm, a smidgen above average, I’d say.”

I step into her, my mouth close, our chests touching, and just stay there. Taunting her with anticipation until I hear her exhale the breath she’s holding. “Maybe I need to show you again. I assure you that decent is not an accurate assessment.”

She pushes against my chest again because it appears she can’t handle the heat. She can talk the talk but she sure as fuck can’t walk the walk. Then again, the way she’s strutting her ass toward the door right now makes me take the statement back.

Fuck. I know how those curves feel beneath my hands, riding my cock, milking my orgasm. We were so fucking far from decent it’s not even funny.

“I need to go stretch. Are you gonna come?”

Sweet Jesus. Seriously? “If you keep moving your ass like that, I am,” I mutter under my breath, feet following without a second thought.

I follow her into the house, eyes scanning the interior. Clean, classic, just like I’d expect from her. I sit on the couch wondering where our little charade is going to lead us now. I spot a few possible surfaces that I can more than prove my point on.

But my attention and thoughts are pulled to Ry as she settles on the floor in front of me and proceeds to spread her legs as wide as they go before leaning forward and pressing her chest to the floor. My dick hardens immediately at the sight of her, her impressive flexibility, and the memory of the tight, wet pussy sitting within that V of her thighs.

Shit, she’s fighting dirty trying to jog my memory of how she fucks like a sinner and feels like Heaven, as if it wasn’t permanently scored into me.

So why am I looking at her eyes and not her tits? Why am I anticipating the next round of verbal sparring when I should be using smooth lines to lure her back so I can prove her wrong?

“So, Colton,” she says, breaking through my civil war of thoughts and my absolute focus on her proffered tits and stupendous ass. “What can I do for you?”

Shit, we can start with you on your knees, me on the couch, and your mouth on my cock. The immediate image makes my head spin with need.

“Christ, Rylee!” I bark the words out, trying to stop her stretching, stop my thinking, when I’m the one that’s supposed to be taking control of this conversation so I can prove my point in more ways than one. And hell if every ounce of testosterone in my body says “please don’t stop.” Fuck getting the upper hand in the argument because when all is said and done, all that matters is that I get to bury myself in her regardless of how the point is made.

“What?” She bats her eyelashes again. Innocent façade front and center.

“We need to talk about last night.” I change the subject. Need to think of rainbows and unicorns and shit to calm my dick the fuck down. Allow me to give my apology for last night. Set one wrong to right before diving right into the next with her because deep down I know we are one of those disasters waiting to happen. Beautiful and devastating all at the same time.

The quick fuck I wanted to ease the ache for her turned out to be so much more than that. It’s moved into uncharted territory for me, and no matter which way I look at this, she’s added a complication to my simple, fuck-more-care-less lifestyle. She’s made me want her more than once, made me pursue when I don’t chase, and has me here apologizing when I’m a take-me-as-I-am-or-get-the-hell-out kind of guy.

But fuckin’ A, if complicated is flexible like that, I’ll take it.

And there she goes again. Making me lose my train of fucking thought as she lies on her back, pulls one leg up, and lifts her head to look at me over the mound of her pussy.

She thinks she can just sit and stretch and she’s going to win this little unspoken war we have going? That I’m just going to kowtow because it looks like she can wrap her feet behind her head and makes me think of the positions I can put that body in? That I’d give up the battle of wills here over something that clearly was mind-blowing?

It’s time I get some answers myself because if we’re both warming up on the same field, then fuck if I’m not ready to go one-on-one with her. I admit that I’m an asshole for treating her like shit last night because I couldn’t handle that weird fucking pressure in my chest, but what does that make her? Leave with tears but now flirt with me like she’s up for another go?

Goddamn women.

Too compli-fucking-cated is what they are. But if I’m going to test the waters again, I need to get my head wrapped around what’s in hers so I can get us back on the sex-without-a-future plan, then I need to know what she’s thinking. “Why’d you leave? Why’d you run away? Again.”

She switches legs and moans in pleasure, followed by my name. “Colton—”

Just like she fucking did last night.

“Can you please stop?” I can’t help it but if she keeps this shit up I’m gonna come in my pants like a goddamn teenager. And there she goes again, rolling over so her ass is my face. Thoughts of taking her from behind fill my head: hands gripping her hips, dick bottoming out as my pelvis slaps against her ass. “Christ! You in those yoga pants all limber and bending in half—you’re making me lose my concentration here.”

And something else if you keep it up.

Those violet eyes taunt me as they look over her shoulder. “Hmm?”

Oh, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing. And so do I. You can’t beat this player at his own game.

“You’re gonna make me forget my apologies and take you right here on the floor. Hard and fast, Rylee.”