Page 128 of Play Dirty

“So are you.”

“Yeah, well—”

He stepped closer. Cutting me off without touching me.

“Relax,” he said, voice low. “I’m not here to argue.”

“No?” I lifted a brow.

“No.”

Another inch closer.

“If anything—”

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, and then back up.

“I feel like I’m late.”

Heat coiled, low in my stomach.

“You could’ve come in earlier,” I said, because I couldn’t help myself.

“I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

This time he didn’t answer right away. Instead his hand came up — slow, controlled — brushing a strand of wet hair back from my cheek.

“I don’t interrupt,” he said finally. “I wait.”

A beat. Then—

“And I don’t rush things I plan on doing right.”

My breath caught. Not sudden or sharp, but enough to notice.

“And now?” I asked.

His hand was still at my cheek. Instead of moving away, it lingered.

“Now,” he said quietly, “it’s my turn.”

The words dropped like a heavy weight, settling between us. My heart skipped a beat.

“That how this works?” I asked, trying for light, missing it completely.

Grayson’s thumb traced lightly along my jaw.

“They got there first,” he murmured.

A beat.

“Doesn’t mean they get all of you.”