Playing Dirty (Leighton U, #4)

by C.E. Ricci

“I can’t promise you fair sky above. Can’t promise you kind road below. But I’ll walk beside you, love. Any way the wind blows.” — Hadestown

Unfortunately, after I come out of the bathroom from brushing my teeth, I realize the one massive problem I’ve overlooked. One that’s impossible to ignore now that he’s stripped down to nothing more than a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs. Theo Greyson is hot as hell.

Unfortunately, Madden’s faster than me—and possibly a mind reader—grabbing my wrist before I can even take a step back toward Camden. His skin singes mine where it makes contact, and there’s an intensity in his gaze as he leans in a little closer. “Don’t worry, Theo. The only guy ending up in my bed tonight is you.”

“Play with fire, and you’re gonna get burned, Teddy Bear,” I utter, the warning coming out barely more than a gruff whisper. “Especially if you keep looking at me like that.”

“I don’t need to read your mind, Theo. Not when your body is screaming.”

But I don’t get the chance, because Theo’s hand lands on my forearm. And those emotions? Well, they boil over the second his lips crash into mine.

I don’t know what caused me to snap, only that the second I do, I realize it’s the greatest mistake I’ve ever made. Because nothing—fucking nothing on this planet—could prepare me for kissing Madden.

“I hate that I want you,” I whisper, the words coming out in a snarl. His dark chuckle floats over my skin like satin. “About time we agreed on something.”

“What do you—” “You!” I shout instantly. “Jesus fuck. It’s you, okay? I want you.”

“Okay,” he repeats, his lips curving into the smallest hint of a smile. “Then I think it’s time for you to strip.” His blunt statement draws a nervous laugh from me. “You said rules, plural. That was only one.” There’s more, I’m sure of it. If we’re gonna do this, there has to be. But he clearly doesn’t care about them right now, because he shakes his head and whispers the most sinful words he’s spoken to me yet. “The rest can wait ‘til after I make you come.”

“Well, it’s not like I can just drop the bi-bomb on them and start parading my stepbrother around the house after we just screwed eight ways to Sunday,” I retort in frustration. “The entire house would think I lost my damn mind.” I realize my mistake as soon as I look back at the screen, finding both of them gaping at me like I’d just been speaking in tongues. “I’m so fucking sorry. You just said stepbrother,” Quinton nearly screeches. Shit.

Well, fuck a duck. I just got cuddle-blocked by my fucking parents.

“What? You didn’t have to turn around,” I say with a confused laugh. “I just wanted to hold your hand.” He hits me with one of those decimating smiles. “I’ll always turn around for you.”