Page 82 of Play Dirty

I stepped into him, my hand sliding up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. For a split second, I hovered there — close enough to feel his breath, close enough to back out.

I didn’t, though.

My lips brushed his. Soft. Testing. Like I was proving a point more than anything else.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then—

Grayson’s hand came up, firm against my waist. He pulled me in just enough to erase the space between us.

The kiss deepened. Not rushed, not sloppy. Controlled. Like everything else about him.

Even so, there was something beneath it — something tighter, sharper — like he was holding himself back. But I could also sense he was losing that battle, one second at a time.

My fingers curled into his shirt. His grip on my waist tightened.

And suddenly this wasn’t a test anymore; wasn’t something we’d done to fulfill a requirement.

It was real.

Holy shit.

Heat surged through me, fast and overwhelming, as his mouth moved against mine. He was stronger now, more certain. I felt it everywhere; in my chest, my stomach, my entire body. My pulse, hammering out of control.

After a while, I should’ve pulled away.

I didn’t.

Not until breathing became an issue. And even then, it barely did.

When our lips finally parted it happened slowly, like neither of us was convinced it was over. Grayson’s face was adorably flush. His forehead hovered just inches from mine.

“Still mean nothing?” he murmured.

I swallowed.

“Yeah,” I said.

A beat.

“Probably.”

~ 28 ~

GRAYSON

This was a mistake.

I knew it.

The second she climbed into my bed, I knew it.

The second her legs slid over mine—

I really knew it.

I should’ve stopped, or said something, or drawn a line. I should’ve done what I always did — keep control, keep distance, keep things clean.

Instead, I kissed her.