BITTER PLAY by Alison Rhymes releases on February 7th!
Preorder Your Copy Today! https://bit.ly/BitterPlay
“Have I ever told you how much I like it when you blush?”
“I don’t,” she says; a hand going to her cheek.
“You don’t with anyone else that I’ve ever seen. But with me, it’s often.”
“Make your point, Turner,” she bites out, embarrassed and frustrated now, but at least she’s no longer about to bite my head off for the display I put on earlier.
“My point, Ward, is that I’m here. Really here. Understand? I’m ready whenever you are.”
“Ready for what, exactly?” she asks around a bite. I smile at her crudeness. The important thing is she’s eating.
“I’m ready for the beginning of us. Whatever that looks like to you. You want to take it slow? We can do that. Jump right in? We can do that, too. If you want to keep dating strange assholes, we’ll draw up some parameters that fit the both of us.”
I watch as she quietly stands and paces the small kitchen. Her temper rises in increments as she squints, sets her jaw, clenches her fists.
Moving to stand toe-to-toe with her, I cup her heated cheeks in my palms.
“No, I will not calm down. You don’t get to come in here and boss me around.”
“I’m trying to negotiate,” I tell her.
“Negotiate my dating life?” She almost growls it out. I’ve rarely seen her temper, but it’s fucking hot. I’m half hard from her glaring at me like she wants to murder me.
“Yes. Because whether you want to admit it or not, we’re destined to end up together,” I say, making eye contact and rubbing my thumb over her tight jaw. “I get that you need time to wrap your hot head around that. I’ll give it to you, but only if you understand a few key things.”
“Every date should occur in crowded, public, safe places. You have fun, but you make no long-term commitments. Most importantly, you don’t share this gorgeous body with any of those men, Leighton. You need to get f*cked after a date, you come home to me.”
“And you’ll f*ck me?”
“Better than you’ve ever had, Love.”
Her eyes drift close and her body slumps in my hands, for the briefest moment. Then she straightens, and when her eyes open back up, they’re glowing mad.
“Get the f*ck out of my house, Reed.”
BLOGGER SIGN-UP: https://forms.gle/DMnJAeb2UxE8ZupH9