I scream behind the tape. Nico startles at the sound, his whole body jerking. I drive my knee hard into his ribs.
A gasp punches out of him. His eyes meet mine, confusion and hurt surfacing, but then his expression hardens again.
His hands fist the collar of my sweatshirt and he tears it clean down the middle. Fabric falls away and I shriek against the tape, thrashing under him. He tries to pin my good arm, but I yank it free and swing wild, my fist connecting with his shoulder. He catches my wrist mid-swing on the second attempt, slamming it down against the tile so hard the impact vibrates up to my shoulder.
I knew he was strong, but feeling it directed at me drives the point home. His grip is iron, and when I buck my hips to throw him off, he doesn’t budge—only shifts his weight, using his knee to hold me down while his free hand goes for my jumpsuit.
He tries to rip it, but the fabric won’t give—probably because of the iron plates woven into the fibers—so he splits the zipper down and strips my good arm out of one sleeve. I twist hard to the left, trying to roll away, but he follows the movement, yanking the jumpsuit down my other arm until the fabric bunches around my hips.
Frosty air slams into my exposed stomach. I cry out at the frigid temperature. My sports bra is all that’s covering me now, and it feels like nothing in the cold and under the weight of the Game Master’s stare.
There’s no way the Game Master will buy this. Nico and I were kissing right before the sick asshole interrupted us.
But then I remember what DJ said that day we were listening to Morrow’s interview tapes:
He may be technically smart, but he’s not actually that emotionally smart.
Nico said himself that the Game Master believes what he wants to believe. Morrow already wants to believe that Nico snapped because he wants to be right about human nature. As long as we don’t make it too obvious we’re pretending, we could get away with this.
I kick my legs out even though they’re still tangled in the jumpsuit, trying to get any leverage I can. My head whips to the side, hair falling across my face as I scream against the tape. Nico pins both of my forearms above my head with one hand, his fingers circling them completely, and the casual display of strength sends a bolt of heat straight between my legs that I absolutely should not be feeling right now.
Oh my God, what is wrong with me?
I glance at the Game Master again. He’s still watching us with those dead eyes, and my stomach turns over so violently I taste bile. I can’tfeelthis with him watching.
I turn my face away from him because I can’t look at the Game Master anymore, can’t bear to see him watching this. I remember every lesson Nico ever gave me about building mental shields. I erect them in my mind, building walls around Nico and me, shoving the Game Master into the hallway, sealing the door, reinforcing the sides of this bathroom until it’s impenetrable, and my world narrows until there’s no one else here but Nico and me. Until there’s just his weight pressing me into the floor, his hand circling my wrists, the heat of his body against mine.
It’s just him and me.
And he’s mine.
Nico wrenches my jumpsuit further down with one hand until it’s halfway down my thighs. He drags one finger along my slit through the cotton, so slow and careful it barely registers as pressure. My breath snags.
He does it again, harder this time, and drops onto his elbow on one side of me. I get the muddy realization he’s using his body to shield what he’s doing from the Game Master. His mouth finds my neck, all desperate and claiming, his teeth dragging against the tender skin below my ear. I gasp.
He traces the same path with his finger again and again until the repetition stops being soothing and starts making me squirm. My breathing starts to slow and deepen. A tiny thrill rushes down the length of my spine, all the way down until it thumps between my legs.
I’m so surprised by the sensation that I can barely process it. I’d been so focused on getting through this, and getting Nico through this, that feeling anything good didn’t cross my mind as a possibility, but there it is, that undeniable slickness gathering under his touch.
Nico tugs my underwear aside, the elastic biting into my thigh, and then his hand slides through me with nothing between us.
He goes still.
Because he must feel how wet I am. He jerks back to stare at me, and the look on his face is the same one people on TV get when they take a bullet. Shock. Pain. Confusion. He gives a tiny disbelieving shake of his head.
I throw my hips up into him, and he pins me down until I can no longer move. Something shifts in his eyes, like he’s trying to shove his emotions back down, rebuild those walls he just let crumble, but they won’t go back up. Or maybe they can’t. Maybe it’s not as easy for him to turn off as he says it is.
He dips a finger into me. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it everywhere. Every beat sends another thump between my legs until I’m throbbing under his touch. I rock against his hand, and an involuntary whimper tears from my throat.
Nico’s eyes flare.
He plunges his finger inside me to the knuckle. The sensation is so sharp and immediate that my spine bows off the floor. A moan rises from somewhere deep in my chest, but I trap it behind my teeth, biting down on the tape. The sound comes out muffled and strangled, and I pray the Game Master can’t tell it’s not from fear.
Nico immediately springs back into motion. His belt buckle clinks at the same time as he swirls that finger inside me, pressing into my walls, and my eyes roll into the back of my head. Shit.Shit. I snap my eyes back to him as he shoves his pants down just far enough with his free hand, then grips himself, stroking hard.
I crane my neck so I can see him fully, but he bends over me before I can. He tugs the shell of my ear between his teeth for a second before whispering, “It’s just you and me. Understand?”
The words pierce through the cold, the fear, the awareness of the Game Master watching. They anchor me. Make everything else fall away until there’s nothing but Nico and the feeling of his hand between my legs and the heat building in my core.
