Page 76 of Shattered Dreams

“You are going to beat me up those eight flights of stairs?” he asks, his voice low. Gravelly.

Sexy as hell.

“I know I can,” I say with a smirk. My cock twitches, reminding me precisely what I’m up against in more ways than one.

“Want to bet on that?” Andre asks, pushing me back with nothing but his chest. I don’t move my hand from the button and his finds mine, trying to force it away. He’s strong, but so am I.

I hold my ground, and I hold his gaze.

“What do you want to bet?”

Andre smiles, licking his lips.

“If you open the door and I’m on that bed, you have to do exactly what I say.”

I roll my eyes. “Exactly what you say, huh?”

He nods.

“Okay,” I whisper. “And if you open that door, and I’m on that bed…”

I place my free hand on his chest, pushing him back just an inch.

He breathes a low, deep breath, his gaze holding strong as he waits for my stakes.

I wait three seconds before I lean in to whisper in his ear.

“I get to fuck you.”

Before I lose my nerve and stay here too long—because the look in his eyes right now is hotter than the fire burning in the lodge—I press the elevator button and take off like a bat out of hell towards the stairs, Andre’s “fuck!” echoing in the hallway, making my heart flutter and my grin widen.

I’ve never run so fast in my life, and as I get to the sixth set of stairs, I think maybe I was too confident in my ability to beat him. I push through the burning in my legs, focus on my breathing, and the thought of him and his hard cock beneath me, bouncing against my sweat-slick skin with warm, wet confirmation.

I scan my wristband, and the click echoes, and I throw open the door. The light is off.

The bed is made.

And there’s no sign of Dre.

“Dre?” I call out, just in case the asshole is hiding because it would be just like him to make me think I’ve won and then come to reap his prize.

There’s no answer.

I don’t hesitate as I tear my shorts and briefs off and launch myself onto the gigantic bed, palming my cock as I fight to catch my breath.

When the door opens, time stops. My gaze roves over him in the doorway, and I notice the second button on his shirt is undone.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he asks as he slowly enters the room, shutting the door calmly. Quietly.

I don’t dare look away, because if I do, I’ll be in trouble.

Because he’ll definitely attack me and wrangle me into tapping out. I’ve seen that look on his face before. Usually, right before he annihilates the other team.

“I think we have a winner,” I say, continuing to stroke my cock.

Dre carefully undoes the buttons on his shirt. His movements are slow and smooth. Methodical.

He’s doing this on purpose, and I know it.