Play With Me (Playing for Keeps #2)

“That’s the last of ’em.” I drop two boxes on top of a stack in the front foyer, swiping my forearm across my damp brow. “Fuck, I’m tired. Snack break?”


“Let’s get all the boxes to their designated rooms first,” Adam suggests, moving toward the stack. He reads the label, and my heart skids to a stop at the single word. “Toys?”

He picks at the tape like he’s about to check out the contents, and my brain short-circuits.

“No. No.” I shove him out of the way, throwing myself on top of the box, head wagging. “No, no, no.”

He steps back, hands up in surrender, expression both suspicious and scared.

Carter strolls down the hallway, whistling. “Did somebody say snacks?” His gaze lights when it falls to the box I’m half lying on top of. “Oooh, toys. What kinda toys?”

“Nothing!” I shriek, jerking it out of his reach. My shoulders tighten as I clutch it to my chest. I spread my fingers wide, trying to distort the word from view, even though he’s already seen it. “Nothing!”

Carter looks at the box, then me. Back to the box, then back to me again.

After everything we’ve been through, I thought I was safe. I genuinely thought I’d get to keep my balls. But the longer he watches me without blinking, the less sure I become.

It would have been nice to procreate with Jennie one day, but I guess some things are only meant to be dreams.

Carter finally blinks, just once, slowly. “What’s in the box, Garrett?”

“Nothing.” A bead of sweat rolls down my temple. Carter’s gaze flicks to the droplet, watching it roll. When our eyes meet again, I repeat quietly, “Nothing.”

He stares at me for five seconds, then ten. It’s a full twenty seconds before his next word comes, a terrified breath barely heard. “No.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

He steps back, head shaking. “No.”

“It’s—it’s not what you—we don’t….she had them before!” I shout after him as he runs out the door. “I didn’t buy them!”

Adam squeezes my shoulder. “You don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

I hang my head in defeat. “No.” The only good thing it’s ever brought me is Jennie, but I think she outweighs all the bad. With a sigh, I start up the stairs. “Gonna take this to our bedroom.”

The room is expansive and bright, with wide, gray plank flooring, a stone fireplace, and a wall of windows overlooking the pine trees skating up the mountains behind us. Jennie spent five minutes standing here, hands pressed to the glass as she stared silently at the view. That’s how I knew this house was the one.

I secure the box in the closet before making my way to my dresser. We picked out new bedroom furniture together, and it was delivered yesterday afternoon after we picked up our keys and officially became the owners of our new home. We spent the night putting away our clothes and eating Thai food off the kitchen floor before we went back to our condo for one last night.

Oh sorry. One more thing. While we waited for the food to come, Jennie told me she wanted to christen our new house. I was already pulling my pants off before she could finish the request.

But it was when she pulled that little pink glass plug from her bag that I really began to short-circuit. I stood there with one foot stuck in my pants, the other pantleg in my hand, my jaw hanging as she slowly undressed, hoisted herself up on our kitchen island, spread her legs, and showed me how wet she was. When she finished giving herself her first orgasm, she held out the glass plug and asked me to fuck her.

So I did. Bent over the counter, on her hands and knees on the staircase, up against the window in the bedroom, and again under the spray of the shower.

Needless to say, we’re big fans of that little glass plug.

I listen carefully, checking that I’m alone. When all I’m met with is the sound of chatter and laughter from downstairs, I cautiously pull open the top drawer of my dresser. I reach toward the back, below piles of underwear, and wrap my fingers around the small object.

My heart thuds as I open the velvet box, revealing the oval sapphire inside, more teal than it is blue, the vintage gold band it’s set on, the three small marquise diamonds framing each side of it like flower petals.

I’ve had this ring for three weeks now. I asked Carter and Holly to help me pick out some designs Jennie might like one day when she was out with the girls. Carter sat there with this dumbfounded expression while his mom squealed.

Don’t you think it’s a little soon? he’d asked. Holly had shoved him so hard he toppled out of his chair.

We never made it to the store. Holly slipped off her own engagement ring, looked down at it with tears in her eyes, and then pressed it into my palm.

I remember finding the letters H+T inside the band, Jennie’s parents’ initials etched right next to a heart, the way I held the ring and just knew their love was the forever kind, the type that doesn’t end despite the distance. Now, on the other side of the heart, J+G lives.

I can’t wait to love Jennie forever.

“Garrett, I’m going to pick up some pizza and—” Jennie stops in the doorway, mouth gaping as she watches me shove the box back into my drawer and slam it so fast I catch my finger in the process.

“Motherfucker,” I gasp, clutching my throbbing finger before I drop my elbow to the dresser, my chin to my fist, swallowing down the pain. “Jennie. Hey. S’up?”

Her brows do a slow rise. “S’up?”

“Mhmm. S’up.”

With every slow, calculated step Jennie takes in my direction, my pulse races faster. I resist the urge to pick up the dresser, run it across the room, and throw it out the fucking window.

“What was that?” she asks.

“Hmm? What was what?”

She points to the drawer. “That.”

“That what?” I glance at the drawer. “Oh this? It’s my underwear drawer. Just making sure everything was…in…order…in there?” My eyes narrow painfully as I try not to cringe.

“Mhmm. And the box you threw inside?”

“The—the box? Oh, the box. Yeah, why didn’t you say so?”

Why is her eyebrow arched so high on her forehead? Why won’t she let me get away with lying to her just once? What’s so hard about that? Can’t she be nice to me for once in my fucking life?

“Would you believe me if I said it was a new toy for us to play with?”

She pins her arms across her chest and pops a hip. “I would not.”

I throw my arms up in mock surrender. “Ah, well. I tried.” I lift her off her feet and tow her out of the bedroom. “Let’s go. Tons to do. Can’t be standing around chatting to you about nothing.”

She kicks her legs through the air, wriggling until I’m forced to put her down.

“What are you doing?” I ask on a huff.

“What are you doing?”

“I asked you first.”

Her gaze slants, and then she swivels, sprinting back toward the bedroom. I catch her around the waist and shove her against the wall.

“I don’t fucking think so,” I murmur.

“But I—”

“Drop it,” I whisper, trailing my mouth down her throat.

She sighs. “Fine. How long am I dropping it for?”

“How long do you want to drop it for?”

There’s that Beckett blush, rare as all hell as she starts nibbling on the tip of her thumbnail. She lifts a shoulder. “Not that long.”

“No?”

She shakes her head slowly, teeth pressing into her bottom lip with her shy smile.

“Well, you’re still young. There’s no rush.”

“Right, right, right,” she hums, nodding. Another shrug. “Well, I’ll be twenty-five in a few months. I’m not that young.”

“Quarter of a century,” I point out.

“Halfway to fifty,” she adds, hand at her chin as she holds her elbow and looks me over. “And you’re not getting any younger, big guy.”

“There is that,” I agree.

“Plus, you already know you wanna be with me forever.”

“Mmm, that’s true. I do.”

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