Page 45 of The Pleasure of Panic

“You mean, let’s play the game you were sent to play?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, if that’s what you need to go forward. Let’s play the game, Issy.”

Is it a game? Or isn’t it?

I can’t tell anymore.

He takes off my coat, just like he did earlier. Takes off my jacket, just like he did earlier. Then unbuttons my blouse, opens it up, except he doesn’t pull off all the buttons this time. His hand grabs my breasts through my bra, squeezing.

And it’s all very familiar. Should be, because we’ve already been here and back.

The crop smacks my ass again, only this time I don’t jump.

I moan.

“I’m winning at the moment,” he whispers into my neck, biting my ear. “But if you put all this on, you’ll steal the game right out from under me. Because I’ll forfeit and you’ll win the prize.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - FINN

“So we are playing a game?” she asks.

“Come on,” I say, still leaning into her neck. “Just forget about that stupid game. We’ve got some chemistry here, right? I mean, you did let me fuck you earlier.” She huffs some air, but I cut her off. “You liked it. You came. Couple times. And even though you’re putting up this fight and holding out hope that this is a game so you don’t have to take responsibility for that, it’s not, Issy. It’s just two strangers who click. That’s all. And when that happens you don’t just throw it away. You let it lead you. You give it a chance. You make a decision to go down a new road. Because clicking with people is a special thing that doesn’t happen every day.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Jesus. No,” I say. “At least not that game. I have nothing to do with this Jordan Wells shit. At all. I bumped into you the same way you bumped into me. And yeah, I misled you a little to get you to stay with me tonight, and yeah, that was part of my job. But no one told me to fuck you, Issy. Or like you. That was just… me.”

She thinks about this for a second. “I still have a lot of questions.”

“Like what?” I ask. “Ask me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Why did the FBI show up at my office?”

“I don’t really know for sure, but I’m assuming you’re just caught in someone’s web.”

“Bad luck,” she answers.

I shrug. “Bad luck.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“Me either.” I laugh. “But no one’s after you now and we can’t get any answers until morning, so why dwell on it?”

I squeeze her breasts again so she won’t forget we have other options. Better ways to pass the time than focusing on what’s probably nothing more than some bizarre random circumstance.

I lean back a little so I can see her face. Her eyes are darting back and forth, like she’s thinking pretty hard about something. She sighs, meets my gaze, and says, “You just want to see me in the costume.”

“True.” I smile. “And you want to put it on. Just admit it.”

She tries not to smile, but fails, so she turns her head to hide it.

“So let me put it on you.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” I say, reaching around her back to unclasp her bra. I drag it, and her open blouse, down her arms and let them both fall to the floor. She takes yet another deep breath, like she wants to give in to an urge to fold her arms across her chest and cover herself.

But she doesn’t give in. She looks up at me and holds her position, arms down at her side.