Chapter 1: The Unspoken Game
I’m 31 now, but this wicked little game started when I was just 19, sprawled in the backseat of my then-boyfriend’s car—now my husband, Tom. His friend, Jake, was beside me, his hand creeping up my leg like a sly fox testing the henhouse door. I didn’t stop him. Hell, I didn’t even flinch. Instead, I parted my thighs just enough for his fingers to graze my inner thigh over my jeans. A silent dare. A dangerous spark. Nothing more happened that night, but the fuse was lit.
Fast forward to today, and Jake’s still playing the same game—except now, I’m a willing player. It’s our unspoken agreement. When we’re alone, his hands roam, and I let them. It’s never gone further than a grope or a squeeze, but the tension? It’s a live wire, buzzing between us, waiting to ignite.
This morning, Tom’s at work, and Jake’s over to patch up some drywall in the guest room. I’m in the kitchen, sipping coffee, when I hear his boots thudding down the hall. He rounds the corner, all rugged charm in a worn-out tee and jeans, plaster dust clinging to his forearms. His grin is a weapon, sharp and knowing.
‘Morning, gorgeous,’ he drawls, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. ‘Tom leave you all alone again?’
I smirk, setting my mug down with a deliberate clink. ‘Don’t act like you’re not thrilled about it, Jake. You’ve got that look in your eye.’
‘What look?’ he teases, stepping closer, his voice dropping low. ‘The one that says I’ve been dying to get my hands on you?’
I roll my eyes, but my pulse kicks up a notch. ‘Careful, handyman. You’re here to fix walls, not start trouble.’
‘Oh, I’m a multitasker,’ he quips, closing the distance. His hand finds my hip, fingers digging in just enough to make me bite my lip. ‘And you’re trouble incarnate, aren’t you?’
I tilt my head, meeting his gaze with a challenge. ‘Takes one to know one. You gonna behave, or do I have to kick you out before you even start?’
He chuckles, a dark, throaty sound, and his other hand slides up my side, brushing the curve of my breast through my thin tank top. ‘You’ve never kicked me out yet, darlin’. Don’t start now.’
My breath hitches, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I step into him, my chest pressing against his as I drag my nails lightly down his arm. ‘Maybe I like the risk,’ I murmur, my voice dripping with defiance. ‘But don’t think for a second I’m not in control here.’
His eyes flash with heat, and his grip tightens on my hip. ‘Oh, I know you’re the boss, sweetheart. I’m just here for the perks.’
The air between us crackles, thick with unspoken promises. His thumb grazes the edge of my tank top, teasing the skin beneath, and I can feel the heat of him—hard, unyielding, pressed against me. My body responds, a rush of warmth flooding through me, making me wet with anticipation. I’m not some damsel waiting to be taken; I’m the one steering this ship, and I know exactly how close I can sail to the edge without crashing.
I lean in, my lips hovering near his ear. ‘Keep your hands busy with that drywall, Jake. But if you’re good… maybe I’ll let you touch more than just my edges later.’
His breath catches, and I feel the tension in him coil tighter, his cock straining against his jeans as he fights for control. ‘You’re a goddamn tease,’ he growls, but there’s a grin in his voice. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’
I pull back with a wicked smile, leaving him panting, sweating with want, as I saunter toward the hall. The game’s on, and I’m playing to win—but how far will I let this go before the lines blur completely?
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