March 2007

MARK

Lips pressed together, she tips her head to the side. Shiny blonde hair falls like a waterfall across her left cheekbone. Soft. Serene. I focus on that. Not on her reaction – the wrinkle of her forehead and the scrunch of her nose. The inevitable judgement. The shock.

"Why do you look so nervous?" she asks. "It's pretty common, right?"

Typical. In sweet Zoe fashion, she hasn't connected the dots. She's probably imagining a set of fluffy pink cuffs.

"They were mine." I thread my fingers together and rest my hands on my knees.

"Yours?"

"My handcuffs."

Still nothing.

Sighing, I close my eyes and summon courage. In doing so, I block out the unwelcome memories. Something that turned me on at the time now repulses me.

"Police handcuffs," I clarify.

Realisation widens her eyes. Here it comes. The disgust. The disappointment. I brace myself.

Instead, though, her gaze turns curious as it coasts down my body.

"Were you in your uniform, too?" she asks.

Can't answer that question. By some miracle, she's not judging me. I need to quit while I'm ahead.

But then a smile stretches across her face. "Wow. Two in one. Role play and bondage. Congrats."

I suppress my relief. "The police wouldn't have been impressed. Not that it matters now."

"Was it her idea or yours?"

"Hers. I don't think she realised how uncomfortable real handcuffs are."

At the time, Ruby had refused to show any discomfort—because then she'd have had to admit I was right. Real handcuffs aren't sexy. They're not designed for comfort and pleasure. And I've never had a kink for fucking a criminal.

But she wanted to try it, and I'd try anything. Still would. Just not real handcuffs again.

Zoe is everything that Ruby isn't. Sweet. Kind. Authentic. Even now, she's scanning my figure with zero subtlety, a red flush creeping up her neck. I'm not a mind-reader, but I know what she's thinking. Imagining. Visualising.

"What did you put?" I ask, before my own mind can get carried away.

The redness spreads across her face. "Oh. Um, threesome." She flips the notebook around.

I glance down before meeting her gaze again. "Sorry if I've made you uncomfortable by over-sharing."

"No! You haven't. Not at all. That's what this is about, right?"

I quirk an eyebrow. "I thought it was a competition."

Her face now matches her scarlet top. The top she suddenly tears over her head. Shock slams into my gut. Fuck. Those tits. Crushed together and spilling over the lacy edge of a black bra. Hard nipples poking through the thin material. Expanses of smooth, tight skin and a tiny waist.

She's fucking perfect.

"I lost the question." Zoe shrugs and sits back in the armchair, looking relaxed for the first time since we started this stupid game.

I can only assume it's because she knows she's finally got to me.

"Thought you'd go with your socks first," I grumble.

I slide the magazine towards her. She catches it before it careens off the end of the coffee table.

Clearing her throat, she asks, "How old was I when I lost my virginity?"

Hm. Tricky one. Did she save herself for someone special? Or did she succumb to pressure in order to please a guy?

I play it safe and write 17.

We turn our pages to face each other.

14.

Christ. That's young. Did some prick manipulate her into that? Did she feel the need to keep up with her friends? Did she think he'd leave her if she didn't?

"What?" Her question has a defensive bite to it.

I can't bring myself to dismiss this one.

"Fourteen?" I ask.

"Yes."

"That's young, Zo."

One small fist clenches. She thinks I'm pitying her. Maybe I am. I don't know the circumstances, but I do remember being a teenager and the desire to fit in. To be accepted. Respected.

"How old were you?" she fires back.

"Sixteen."

"Oh. I expected you to be younger."

I shrug. "My dad was a cop. He drilled rules and laws into me until my moral compass was well and truly rigid."

Her tense posture softens as she sits up straighter. It's the first time I've mentioned my parents. Voluntarily, at least. Whenever she's tried to ask about them over the last few months, I've shut that conversation down.

"I get that," she says. "If it makes you feel better, I was with the guy for another three years after that. We split up just before uni. And it was my idea. Not his."

"To split up or to have sex?"

"To have sex. Splitting up was very much his idea." She slings one leg over the other. "Let's move on. Take off your shirt."

I wet my drying lips, and her hazel eyes track the movement.

"I was going to go with my socks, if it's all the same to you."

"I'd rather your shirt."

I bite back my smile. Not giving in that easily, though. I pluck off my socks and relax into the sofa cushions, arms spread over the back and legs stretched in front of me. Hopefully if I fake being at ease, I'll start to feel it too.

"That's not very sportsmanlike of you." As if to reinforce the fact she's topless and I'm not, she folds her arms beneath her chest. Somehow, it makes her tits look even bigger. Probably her intention.

"You're also wearing an extra layer compared to me," I highlight, even though I might just pass out if she removes said extra layer.

"Not self-conscious, are you?"

"Not at all."

She narrows her eyes and tosses the magazine at me.

"That's not very sportsmanlike," I say.

We each get another question wrong, and I'm starting to think this game was a bad idea. Every snippet I learn about Zoe's tastes sends a fresh wave of blood to my dick. The loss of clothes isn't helping matters.

"By the way, I was teasing earlier," she tells me as I finger the hem of my top. "We can stop the game at any point if you're not comfortable taking any more clothes off. I'd never want you to feel pressured to—"

I whip my top over my head, and her rambling speech comes to an abrupt halt. Mouth still open, her eyes scour every inch of my torso. It's scrutinous in the best possible way.

"You're not very subtle," I mutter.

The flush returns to her cheeks. "Neither were you," she shoots back.

I didn't think it possible to become any more turned on, but then the next question is around whether I've ever used toys in the bedroom. Police-issued handcuffs hardly count, and I've certainly never ventured into battery-operated territory.

Unsurprisingly, Zoe has no issue guessing correctly on this one.

"You should try it sometime," she tells me.

"You've tried it?" My brows bounce upwards before I can reign in my surprise.

"Yep, got a whole collection."

Not sure I believe that. She's pulling my leg.

"And your loser ex was into it, too?" I ask.

"Not exactly. He didn't like to think a vibrator could do a better job than him. Or maybe he just didn't want to see how much harder I'd come with the help of some batteries."

I swallow, tightness settling in my jaw. Maybe she is being truthful. Has she been using them since living here? Probably—if she's into them enough that she's got a whole collection.

Fuck.

How many nights have I laid in bed while she makes herself come on the other side of the wall?

Need to stop this train of thought.

"That doesn't surprise me about your ex," I say. "He seems the insecure type. More concerned with his ego than his girl's pleasure."

She nibbles her bottom lip, curious eyes raking over my body again. Heavy tension thickens the air between us. This is heading down a dangerous path. One that I have no interest in avoiding.

"What's my favourite foreplay activity?" Her voice is husky when we return to the quiz, but not with nerves this time.

Has to be oral. She admitted as much earlier. Rather than second-guess, I jot it down.

"It's kissing," she tells me with a flourish of her notepad.

I frown. Seriously? In what world is kissing the best foreplay activity?

"Kissing? How is that your favourite?"

She shrugs. "It's fun. The build-up. The variety. You not a fan?"

"No. Hate it."

Blinking, she recoils. "How can you hate kissing?"

"It's pointless."

"Right, so let me ask you a question. These nine people you've slept with, were any of them one-night stands?"

"A few."

"So how did you entice them back to your place without kissing them?"

I scrape a hand through my hair. She's got me on that one.

"Well, obviously I did kiss them."

"So it's not pointless, then. It got you laid."

"You make it sound like a means to an end." I tug the leather strap of my belt through the buckle, and her gaze flies down to my crotch.

"That's exactly what you said it was," she replies. "You do it just to get laid. It's not a bad thing. I just think you're missing out on enjoying it if it's only ever a means to an end."

"Maybe," I say.

Maybe, as in no. But this quiz is heated enough, so I don't argue my point; the last thing we need is extra adrenaline between us.

Instead, I stand and drag my jeans down my legs and over my ankles. I'm not usually self-conscious. In fact, my body is one of the few things I'm comfortable with. But undressing in front of Zoe stokes something deep inside me that I've not felt in years. A need to impress.

For fuck's sake. Her people-pleasing tendencies are rubbing off on me.

"Make you a deal," she says as I fold my clothes into a pile to avoid looking at her. "If I win this quiz, you give me a chance to prove kissing can be fun and enjoyable."

Kiss her without it leading to sex? She's either trying to prove a point, or she's looking for an excuse to address some of the tension between us. Could be both.

I sink into the sofa cushions again and arch a brow at her. "If you win this game, I'll be naked. Is that not a big enough prize?"

She doesn't take the bait, but she does glance down at my crotch again, so clearly the joke hasn't completely escaped her.

"I want to show you it can be fun. Since you won't be getting sex at the end, it might force you to appreciate the act itself."

Unlikely.

I reach for the magazine. "What do I get if I win?"

"What do you want?"

Can't answer that truthfully. Instead, I try to find the next question in the quiz and come up short. We're at the end.

Time to improvise.

"What's something I want to try that I've not yet done?"

She cocks her head to the side. "I don't remember seeing that one."

"I'm improvising. We're out of questions."

Just in case I'm lying, she leans across and snatches the magazine from my hands. Then she huffs and picks up her pen.

I'm fairly confident she won't guess this one correctly. It's so simple that it won't even occur to her.

"Let's see," I say, nodding to her notebook.

She twists it to face me. The word 'anal' is written in beautiful, neat handwriting. A fair guess.

I show her my answer, and her eyes narrow in suspicion.

"You've never had sex in the shower?"

"You think I'm lying?"

"I think you purposely chose a question I'd get wrong."

In a display of sportsmanship, though, she shimmies her jeans over her thighs, then kicks them off to the side, where they join a crumpled heap of clothes. So messy. I must be turned on, because it doesn't even bother me.

She straightens up, and my eyes devour the artwork in front of me. Matching lingerie. Lacy and black and sheer. It's like she wore it deliberately, knowing it might be on view.

Unless she always wears sexy lingerie.

Fuck.

There's no going back from this. No way to unsee how beautiful she is. My heart hammers against my ribcage, blood pounding through my ears.

And what's even sexier is that she's not self-conscious in the slightest. For someone who could barely talk to me without blushing five months ago, she's comfortable in her skin. Maybe we do have something in common after all.

This is a dangerous game. But I don't want to stop playing.

"Your turn," I say. "For the win."

"When was the last time I had sex?"

She asks it without hesitation, like she already had it lined up. Has she had sex since being here? Not that I've known, but it would have been easy enough to be discreet when I was on night shifts.

Maybe it's better I don't know. If it was with her shitty ex, that'll just piss me off.

"I'm going to pass on that."

She startles. "Pass? Why? You can't pass. Just guess."

"Don't panic. A pass is a forfeit. You still win." I crook a finger to beckon her over. "Come here and collect your winnings." 

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

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The next chapter is a steamy one 🌶️ If you want to read ahead, the next 5 chapters are already available on Ream, via any of my tiers! reamstories.com/tessalovatt (I'll share the link in an inline comment).