Free Play Me by Alla Kar Page B

arms cross over his chest as he leans against the doorjamb. “That depends on if you let me in or not.”
    Why is he here? Heat swarms my cheeks remembering everything we just did in that bathroom. Could he embarrass me anymore? “Why would I let you inside? It’s the middle of the night.” I give him a good once over. “And you’re drunk.”
    He reaches down and digs into his front pocket. He pulls out my cellphone and dangles it in front of my face by two fingers. “This is the reason you’d let me inside.”
    What? I slap my palms against my sweats and realize I really don’t have my phone. Dammit. Weston hums underneath his breath as he brings my phone closer to his face. “Looks like someone has a new text message.”
    “Give it back, Weston.”
    The edge of his lip pulls up slightly. “Let me inside and I will.”
    “Why? What’s in here that isn’t out there?”
    Something passes over his face that I can’t pinpoint. “Let me inside, Roxanne .”
    I felt that in-between my legs. That word slipping from that mouth is more than I can take. Keeping my eyes on his, I take a step backwards while opening the door wider. Something appetizingly wicked heats in those brown eyes.
    With the help of one crutch, he wobbles forward. I watch as he shuts the door and locks it behind me. His gaze rolls over my small apartment and then back to me.
    Taking his bottom lip in-between his teeth he places one arm against the wall. “Is he here?”
    What? Who? Leaning closer, he presses his cheek against my own. “Is he here?”
    “Is who here?”
    A stern grip cups my hip and guides me until I’m pressed against the wall. A strong wisp of alcohol heats my face. He’s definitely been drinking but for some reason he doesn’t seem too drunk. “Don’t play with me,” he whispers against my mouth. “Is Blake here?”
    Blake? Why would Blake be here? “Weston you’re clearly drunk–“
    A groan slips from his clenched teeth and he presses his hand tighter around my hip. “Is he here?”
    There is a demanding tone in his voice that makes a side of me quiver. “No.”
    Ten rough fingers grip the nape of my neck and force my mouth upward. “Was he here?”
    My thighs turn to goop. If he wasn’t pressing himself against me I’d probably fall. “No,” I whimper out.
    Lowering his mouth to my ear, he breathes in. “Did he kiss you?”
    I bite my lip and close my eyes. I’m burning up … everywhere. A hard weight is pressing against my lower stomach, eating me alive. I don’t lie. And it’s mostly because I want to see his reaction. This aggressiveness is searing underneath my skin. I want it. “Yes, what’s it to you?”
    There are a few short moments of silence. All I hear is his harsh breathing against my ear. Then he laughs. It’s a low chuckle that sets that fire ablaze inside of me. The hand on my hip lowers to cup my ass and the other slides up my throat to cup my neck. “You like him, Roxanne? You like the way he talks to you? The way he touches you?”
    Anger rushes my throat and a painful lump begins to grow. Tilting my chin upward, I stare up at him. Those brown eyes bore into me, lowering toward my lips. “Yes.”
    Something wild darkens his eyes. He laughs beneath his breath and presses the pad of his thumb against my bottom lip. “Does he touch you like this?” he whispers against my mouth. He squeezes my ass and presses me harder into him. And I feel how excited he is pressed firmly against my stomach.
    The truth is no one has ever made me feel this alive. Hormones that I haven’t felt in years are raging inside of me. “Answer me,” he hisses through his teeth.
    No, he doesn’t.
    Weston’s teeth graze my bottom lip before he gently bites down. All my fingers clench into his biceps. “You’re drunk,” I whisper.
    I can feel his growl surge through me. “Does it look like I’m fuckin’ drunk, Roxanne? Stop avoiding the goddamn question. Let me fuckin’ have you.”
    Let me