Playing Games

EMBER

Kaden Marx is kissing me. My inner thirteen-year-old swooned and, typically for me, tripped over a trash can and went crashing to the floor.

Of course, twenty-three-year-old me, the one actually being accosted by those full lips, was just as close to swooning. My legs barely held me up, and my knees threatened to buckle.

Because oh. My. God. Kaden fucking Marx was actually kissing me, and I was pretty sure he was sober and doing it of his own free will. Imagine that?

While I was swooning deep down inside, I was holding my own on the outside. My tongue twisted and danced with his, moving so perfectly it was like it was choreographed and we‘d done it a hundred times before.

The thought that what we were doing was wrong rushed out of my mind almost as soon as it entered it. Kaden‘s finger brushed the tip of my hardened nipple and drove all my worries away.

Ryan, who? Work, what? It didn‘t matter. Kaden’s lips were on mine, his strong arms around me, his hips rolling his erection ag