“The fuck, Mills,” Dean gripes, tugging his other arm out from under his head to fling it across his eyes to block out the light. His other arm, still buried under the covers, stops moving but I know what I saw. “What are you?—”
“Doing?” I practically screech at him. “What areyoudoing?”
“Trying to recoup and recover after a long day of getting kidnapped,” he growls back at me. “You mind?”
“Recoup and recover?” I parrot back at him because my brain is so scrambled I seem incapable of forming rational words on my own. “Is that what we’re calling it?” I ask, my gaze shifting to the bulge of his hand, resting between his legs.
It takes him a few seconds to catch up but when he does, he lets out a sharp bark of laughter. Lifting his arm from his face,he turns his head to nail me with a hard look. “Are you fucking serious, right now?”
“Yes,” I say, cheeks—hell, my entirebody—on fire with mortification. Yes, that’s what it is—mortification. It’s not something else. Itcan’tbe something else. “I’m serious, Dean. Don’t try to gaslight me. I know what you’re doing. It’s the same thing you were doing yesterday.”
His forehead crumples in what looks like genuine confusion. “Yesterday?”
“Yes—yesterday.” I swallow hard, my belly flipping inside out at the memory of it. The flex of his bicep. The way he was looking at me. “When we were FaceTiming. You’re?—”
When I can’t make myself say it, Dean tucks his arm under his head again with a smirk. “I’m what?” he asks while his hidden hand starts to move again. “What am I doing that’s so offensive to you, Mills?”
“You’re…” Eyes still glued to the slow, rhythmic movement of his hand, I shake my head. “You’re…” Forcing my gaze up to meet his, I feel something warm and heavy slide down the length of my spine. “You know what you’re doing.”
“You’re right,” he says quietly, his gaze hooked into mine. Arm still moving. “Iknow exactly what I’m doing… so why don’t you look under the covers and see for yourself?”
“You want me to look? At you while you…” That warm, heavy feeling freefalls, dropping low in my belly before it starts to throb. Jesus—am I turned on? Does the fact that I caught Dean Mercer masturbating in bed next to me actually excite me? Am I okay? “Don’t be absurd.”
Definitelynot okay.
Like he’s reading my mind, Dean laughs. “Come on… don’t chicken out now, Marmaduke—just lift the covers and take a peek. You know you want to.”
I can’t explain what happens next.
All I know is that I told myself no.
That the best way to beat Dean Mercer at his own game is to simply refuse to play. To roll over, turn off the light and pretend that what is happening in the bed next to meisn’thappening. Because no matter the truce we called not more than an hour ago, torturing me is Dean’s favorite thing to do and he’ll never pass up an opportunity to make me squirm.
Don’t do it.
I hear it in my head, loud and clear, a split second before I reach for the covers and jerk them back, exposing us both.
Dean’s hand is still moving but?—
“I thought…” Looking up at him, my cheeks flame red for an entirely different reason. “I…”
Dean isn’t touching himself. He’s winding the drawstring of his borrowed pajama pants around his finger.
“Thought I was lying here, jerking off, in bed next to you?” he finishes for me, a convoluted mixture of amusement and anger crowding his features. “I might be an unscrupulous whore, Princess—but I’m not a complete deviant.” He gives me a sharp smile while he unwinds the drawstring from around his finger. “I have just enoughcouthto wait until you’re asleep before I jerk off in the bed next to you.”
Shit.
“I—” Shaking my head, I feel panic start to swell in my chest because I know that tone. I’ve heard it more times than I can remember over the past two years. That’s hisnow you’ve really pissed me off, Princesstone. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“Insult me?”
“I—” Still shaking my head, I feel my breath catch in my throat. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure you are…” He gives me a long quiet look before he sighs. “But rules are rules.” The panic I feel must show on my face because he laughs. “It’s alright, Mills. I’m not going to make you sleep naked on your first infraction.”
“You can’t,” I remind him, my entire body suddenly so hot, I can’t breathe. “You said no nudity. You promised?—”
“I promised nopublicnudity,” he clarifies quietly. “Private nudity is still very much on the table.”
