Read Play Me Hot for Free Online Page B

pressed to mine.
    I don’t know how I feel about this. About Sebastian, about what we did together, or about the way he’s treating me now. I guess I expected him to treat this like any other rich man fuck—wham, bam, get the hell out, ma’am—but instead he’s being kind, tender.
    He’s taking care of me. And I’m letting him.
    That, too, is a shock. I’m pretty much a do-it-myself kind of girl, or at least I’m trying to be, and the fact that I need this—his tenderness, his comfort, the soothing stroke of his hands down my back—disturbs me in a way the sex didn’t.
    And the sex was plenty disturbing in a blow-my-mind, drag-me-out-of-my-comfort-zone kind of way.
    “I need to get back to work.” My voice sounds rusty, like it hasn’t been used in a while. Or like I’ve spent the last hour screaming Sebastian’s name.
    “I know.” He presses a long, lingering kiss to my bare shoulder. “But taking a few more minutes won’t hurt anything.”
    “Except my tips.”
    “Right. Your tips.” He steps back then, bends down and gathers up my clothes. As I take them from him, I refuse to meet his eyes. I also do my best to ignore the fact that I’m still wearing my high heels and stockings.
    “Can I use your bathroom?”
    “Yeah. Of course.” He rests his hand on my lower back, his thumb stroking softly against my skin as he guides me toward the closed door on the other side of the room.
    “Thanks.” I reach for the doorknob, still doing my best not to look at him.
    “Hey.” He puts two fingers under my chin, tilts my face up until I can’t help but look at him. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Yeah?” He looks concerned, like he really cares, and that only messes with my head more. I don’t know what he wants me to say here, don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I’m almost totally naked, completely exposed, and all I want is a little cover. A chance to get my head back in the game.
    “Yeah.” I push past him into the bathroom, close and lock the door behind me. Then sag against it for long seconds as I try to wrap my head around everything that just happened.
    It’s not a big deal. I mean, yes, I just had soul-shattering sex. With my boss. And yes, he’s only the third guy I’ve slept with in my life. All of which means it could turn into a big deal. If I let it. Which I am
so
not going to do.
    Dropping my clothes on the closed toilet lid, I cross to the sink. And come face-to-face with a mirror for the first time since this whole thing began.
    Holy. Shit.
    I look like I’ve just been fucked every way a woman can be fucked. My hair is a mess, my eyes are glassy, my cheeks are flushed and my lips—shit. My lips are swollen and dark pink while my red lipstick is still smeared across my chin and cheek, even down my throat.
    And my body…My God. My body is covered in bruises and love bites and pink whisker burn from Sebastian’s stubble. My breasts, my stomach, my neck, the inside of my arms. The inside of my
thighs
. Everywhere.
    Horrified—fascinated—I reach out a hand. A finger. And play connect the dots with the darkest of the bruises. There’s one on the edge of my jaw, four on my neck. Two on my left breast, three on my right—including one directly over my nipple. I probe at it a little, wincing at the pain—and doing my best to ignore the fact that that one simple touch has my nipple standing erect and sparks of heat shooting through my body.
    Is it just that my nipple is sensitive from all the attention Sebastian paid it? I wonder as I gently circle it. Or is it the pain that’s turning me on even though I’m exhausted? Has Sebastian Caine somehow managed to link pain and pleasure in my mind? In my body?
    That thought disturbs me more than anything else has so far. More, even, than the bruises scattered like confetti over my stomach and thighs and—I do a quick turn, look over my shoulder—my back. And, if I’m being honest, those bother me