Page 109 of Play Dirty

“No,” he said. “Just accurate.”

The storm thickened. Snow slammed against the windshield now; heavier, faster. The world outside was reduced to streaks and shapes that didn’t hold still long enough to matter.

Another slide.

Longer this time.

“Should we stop?” I asked nervously.

Ares grunted. “Stop where?”

“I don’t know, just—”

Another jolt ended my sentence, halfway through. My hand moved without thinking, grabbing Ares’s forearm. Beneath my palm, it felt solid and unyielding.

He didn’t react. Didn’t look down. But I could feel the subtle tightening, beneath my fingers.

The truck corrected again. Barely.

“Road’s disappearing,” Grayson said quietly.

Ares didn’t answer, and a silence settled over the cab. The kind that pressed in on all sides. I focused on the hum of the engine, the rhythm of the wipers. The steady warmth of the truck’s stubborn heater, still pumping after all these decades.

I was aware of all of it.

But most of all, I was aware of them.

Ares, right beside me. Heat rolling off him like he burned at the core.

Grayson, too close. Too aware. Too much unfinished business between us.

Sebastian, behind me. Watching. His knee pressed into the seat beneath me.

I felt that too.

God.

This was insane.

Not just the storm.

Everything.

I shifted again, which was a mistake. My leg brushed higher against Ares this time. He didn’t move, he didn’t acknowledge it.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Grayson noticed, because that was his thing. His eyes shifted to follow my legs, like he was tracking the puck across the ice.

“You good?” he asked.

His voice was lower now. Different.

“Fine,” I told him.

Lie.

The road disappeared again, and I felt his body press even more tightly into mine. We both braced for the next slip. When I looked down again his hand was on my knee, holding me there.