Page 69 of Play Dirty

“This tablet’s going to help us win games,” I said, patting it.

“Us,” he repeated, applying the stick under one arm.

And there it was again. Just like with Ares, they’d never see me as one of them.

“Yes, us,” I reiterated. “I’m here for the Reavers, you know. It would help of course, if you trusted me.”

Grayson continued staring at me, as he went through his post-shower routine. In turn, I stared right back at him.

Were his arms always this big? This sculpted? This—

“You made your point out there today,” he said, matter-of-factly. “On the ice.”

I remained silent as he studied me for a moment. Perhaps deciding how much to say.

“Changes things,” he added.

I tilted my head. “How?”

“You’re not just talking anymore,” he shrugged. “You’re in it. You’ve been there. That makes a difference.”

“Umm… thanks?”

“But…”

Crap. There was always a but.

“But you still don’t trust me,” I finished for him.

Grayson’s jaw flexed as he reached for a shirt. Lining it up to poke his head through it, I took one last look at his magnificent chest.

“No,” he finally said. “I don’t trust you.”

Hey, at least he was honest.

“That’s fair,” I said, nonchalantly. “I don’t trust you either.”

Now he blinked — actually blinked.

“You don’t trust me?” he repeated.

There was something incredulous in it. Like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him.

I let out a quiet breath.

“You keep telling me what the team thinks happened,” I said. “With Trees. With Sutherland.”

“That’s because it’s what happened.”

“Is it?” I asked.

He stiffened. Just slightly.

“You think it’s not?” he asked.

“I think,” I said carefully, “you’ve been inside this thing for too long.”

Grayson’s eyes narrowed. They made his angular cheekbones even more attractive.