Page 31 of Play Dirty

My eyes dropped intentionally to the loosely-knotted towel around his waist. And, more specifically, to a certain bulge in the front of it.

There was a beat of silence. Grayson’s eyes sharpened slightly.

“Careful.”

“Why?” I laughed, tilting my head. “Afraid I’ll hurt your feelings?”

Another beat. Then—

He laughed.

It was a short, low laugh. Not dismissive. Not entirely, anyway.

“Didn’t think you had that in you,” he said.

“I’ve got a lot in me you don’t know about,” I shot back.

Silence stretched out between us, like gunslingers on a lonely street. His gaze dropped again, briefly, then came back up to meet mine.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m starting to get that.”

I tried to swallow, but my throat was suddenly dry. My stupid heart wouldn’t shut down the jackhammer, either.

“Long sticks, curved sticks…” I repeated, absently. “You know, you really can’t talk to me like this.”

The smirk was back. Or maybe it never left.

“Seems like I just did.”

“Fine,” I sighed. “You shouldn’t talk to me like this.”

“Why, what are you gonna do?” Grayson challenged. “Get someone else fired?”

That again. Back to square one.

I opened my mouth to tell him how wrong he was; that I hadn’t had anything to do with the case of the mysteriously disappearing coach. I wanted to shout that I was on his fucking side. That he and the rest of the guys had been hazing me for all the wrong reasons.

But shit, not with that smirk on his face.

I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“You done?” I asked, impatiently. “Or are you planning on blocking the only working shower on this floor?”

He stiffened a little, and let go of the doorway.

“Careful, Maxwell,” he said. “You’re starting to sound like you expect things from us.”

I stood, snatching up my shower caddy.

“The only thing I expect,” I seethed, “is for you to get out of my way.”

Grayson stared back at me, without reaction. Of course he refused to move for the first few seconds, but such a dick move was to be expected. Eventually he angled his body to one side, and I brushed passed him.

His scent hit me right away. Fresh soap layered over warm skin, with a hint of something darker, just beneath. Leather, maybe. A faint trace of sweat. All good things, unfortunately.

Gritting my teeth, I double-timed it into the bathroom and closed the door.

The steam from his shower still filled the room. Warm and heavy, it also smelled like him.