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It hits me like a lightning bolt.

He’s the one barely holding it together. Not me.

He can joke all he wants about me not being able to resist him, but he already admitted it—I’m the best sex he’s ever had.

I’ve been playing this all wrong. Getting flustered. Letting him tease me. Acting like I’m the one at a disadvantage when he’s the one with the most to lose.

I’ve been making this far too easy for him.

Julian Vale and tonight’s humiliation drift away. A wicked little smile tugs at my lips.

If Drew wants to play games…I can play them better.

I shift in my seat, letting the short skirt ride a little higher up my thighs. Then I slowly cross my legs, the fabric whispering against my skin. A few seconds later, I uncross them again, even slower this time, letting my thighs part just enough.

I feel Drew’s eyes flick over.

Oh…I like this.

The power rush hits me like champagne—fizzy, addictive, and slightly dangerous. Before I can talk myself out of it, I rest my hand on my thigh, fingers lightly tracing the hem of my skirt. Up. Down. Then a little higher. My nails skim over bare skin as I pretend to smooth the fabric.

Drew’s jaw flexes again.

My heart is hammering, but I don’t stop. I slide my hand higher, slipping just under the edge of my skirt, fingertips disappearing beneath the fabric. I trace lazy little circles on my inner thigh, so close to where I’m already aching.

The car feels ten degrees hotter.

I glance over at him, all sweet innocence. “Something wrong?”

Drew’s voice comes out rough. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Me?” I ask, voice soft and sweet as I slide my hand a fraction higher.

He exhales sharply.

God, I’m drunk on this. The way his breathing has changed. The way this big, cocky man is suddenly white-knuckling the steering wheel because of me.

I think I just found my new favorite game.

But the thrill only lasts about thirty glorious seconds.

Drew keeps his eyes stubbornly locked on the road. No more glances. No clenched jaw. Nothing. The man is suddenly Mr. Professional, and it’s infuriating.

Fine. If he wants to ignore me…

I slide my hand higher, slipping fully under my skirt, and let out a soft, breathy little moan.

Still nothing.

The audacity.

My competitive streak kicks in hard. Heat and frustration mix into something slightly unhinged in my chest. Oh, it’s like that?

Before I can talk myself out of it—before common sense can file a single protest—I hook my thumbs into my underwear, lift my hips, and slide them down my legs in one quick movement. I drop them onto his lap.

Drew’s eyes drop to the white lace. For a second, the only sound is the sound of the engine. Then he signals sharply and pulls off the main road into a quiet, tree-lined side street, cutting the engine. The sudden silence feels electric.

Drew turns to me, eyes dark and hungry. “You want it that bad?” His voice is low, rough, and edged with disbelief. “Fine. Since you’re this fucking desperate…take it.”