Play Me Hard (9 page)

He breaks off in the middle of the sentence, in the middle of the word. But it’s still enough to have my heart stuttering and my stomach dropping to my toes. We’ve only known each other three days. Albeit, they’ve been a pretty intense three days, but still it’s only been three days since I walked into his office and he thanked me for hitting that whale in the balls with my drink tray. He can’t possibly be falling in anything with me in three days. Just like I can’t possibly be falling for him. Not yet.

Not now.

“Look, I can’t stand here arguing for much longer. I still have to get downstairs and get changed. My shift starts in less than fifteen minutes.”

“You’re not listening to me. You aren’t working—”

“No, Sebastian. You’re not listening to me. I am working, because I said I would work. Because I’m perfectly capable of working. And because, damn it, I
want
to work tonight. So stop trying to give me special treatment—it won’t go well for either of us—and get the hell off my back about this. Okay?”

“And if I said it wasn’t okay with me?” he asks, one brow raised inquiringly.

“Then I’d tell you to suck it up and I’d go to work anyway.”

“It seems like that whole diatribe you just gave was you essentially telling me to suck it up.”

“That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” I tell him, tongue firmly in cheek. “Because you’re so smart.”

And then, because he seems more resigned than angry, I take the risk of reaching over and patting his cheek. He lets me, then grabs my wrist and tugs sharply enough to have me slamming into his body, hard.

“You aren’t always going to get your way, you know,” he tells me as his hands slide down my back to cup my ass.

I shove all my baggage down deep inside of me, refusing to let it ruin this moment. Instead, I smile sassily and say, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see about that, won’t we?”

“I guess we will.” He squeezes my ass hard enough to have a whole new heat blossoming inside me. I yelp a little at the pain, and the pleasure, of it.

Sebastian smirks at me, then drops a quick kiss on my mouth. “Don’t let the whales push you around down there.”

It’s my turn to lift a brow. “Do I ever?”

“That’s my girl.”

He says it like he means it. And though everything else in my life is a mess, though I’m screwed up and confused and still trying to recover from everything that happened fourteen months ago, I can’t help smiling as I walk out his office door.

Because Sebastian Caine called me his girl.

And because I stood up to him—and won.

Seven hours later, I’m standing up to him again. After all, it’s ridiculous for him to keep giving me rides home when I have a perfectly good car that I’m paying perfectly good money for—and that has to be delivered to me in the morning if I do accept his offer.

Which I have no intention of doing—in fact, I’m making a good, logical case against it, but it doesn’t matter. I can tell from the look on his face that this time around, I’m out of luck. Sebastian isn’t going to budge.

“You know, you really don’t have to do this,” I tell him as he holds me gently by the elbow and escorts me to his car.

“I really do,” he answers, holding the door open for me. “Besides, I want to see you tonight and you’re dead on your feet. This might be the only time we’ve got to spend together.”

“So you aren’t planning on coming in, then?” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice. No use letting him know how much I was looking forward to making love with him again, and then just hanging out for a while.

“I’d love to come in,” he says with a grin. “I just didn’t want to assume I was invited.”

“Wow. Sebastian Caine, international man of mystery and lover extraordin
aire, is feeling insecure. I like it.”

“I’m not insecure. I’m polite. There’s a difference. And I’m not an international man of mystery or anything else.”

“That’s not what the
Us
magazine in the break room said about you,” I tease. “And I notice you didn’t deny the lover extraordinaire part of the statement.”

He lifts a brow at me before helping me into the car and slamming the door shut behind me.

“Those eyebrows of yours are very expressive,” I tell him once he’s settled in the driver’s seat. “You can say whole sentences with them. How do you do that?”

“More like paragraphs, really. And I spend hours in front of the mirror practicing.”

I burst into laughter at the deadpan delivery. “Someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do might think you were serious, you know.”

He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes. “So you think you know me?”

“I—” My brain shuts down for a second as I scramble to figure out if I’ve made too many assumptions, if I’ve gotten too relaxed with Sebastian too quickly. But a quick look at his eyes tells me he’s fighting a smile, so I end up saying, “I think I know you better than I did three days ago, yeah.”

“Fair enough. I’m pretty sure I know you better, too.”

That’s what I’m afraid of. But I don’t say that to him. Instead I concentrate on keeping things light and easy between us for the rest of the drive. Once we get to my apartment complex, Sebastian pulls into my spot without having to be reminded which one it is. No surprise there. He notices everything, remembers everything. It’s one more reason why I shouldn’t be with him, but as he comes around to help me out of the car, it doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing does—not my past, not who my father is, not even the mistakes I made fourteen months ago that are following me still. All that matters is the warmth in Sebastian’s eyes when he looks at me and the way he makes me feel good about myself and my life.

As we cross the parking lot, I spot Janet sitting on the steps. Even from this distance I can tell that she’s drunk, and I turn to warn Sebastian that I’m going to have to try to wrestle her into her apartment.

But he’s not paying attention to me at all. Instead, he’s staring at Janet like he’s seen a ghost. Or the Antichrist. I can’t tell which.

“Sebastian?” I ask, stopping dead. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t seem to hear. Instead he keeps walking and I have two choices—to let go of his arm or to let him pull me along.

I let him pull me along, watching him carefully as he stops in front of my neighbor. “Janet.” His voice is harsh, broken, nearly unrecognizable in its intensity.

My neighbor grins at him for a second, looking back and forth between us like she wants to be in on the joke. “Thanks for the food this morning, Aria. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” I tell her.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend here?”

I’m not sure. Not when Sebastian is pale and shaky and looking like he just got hit by a semi. But I know he’s following the question because he answers for me. “We’ve already met.”

“Have we?” Janet asks, climbing shakily to her feet. “Well, let me get a look—”

She freezes then, her voice breaking apart. “Sebastian? Sebastian Caine?”

“Yes. Janet—”

He reaches a hand out to her but she’s fast, faster than I’ve ever seen her. She ducks away from him and then her hand flashes out and slaps him hard across the face. Once, twice. And he does nothing to stop her.

“Murderer!” she screams at him. “Murderer, murderer, murderer!”

Do
n’t miss this continuing series, five installments available now from Loveswept

Play Me #1: Play Me Wild

Play Me #2: Play Me Hot

Play Me #3: Play Me Hard

Play Me #4: Play Me Real

Play Me #5: Play Me Right

Play Me Wild

Play Me Hot

Play Me Hard

Play Me Real

Play Me Right

Ruined

Addicted

Exposed (coming soon)

Shredded

Shattered

Slashed (coming soon)

Full Exposure

Tie Me Down

PHOTO: © KEVIN GOURLEY

New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author T
RACY
W
OLFF
lives in Texas and teaches writing at her local community college. She is married and the mother of three young sons.

tracywolff
books.com

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om/TracyWo
lffAuthor

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