At Any Price (Gaming The System) (33 page)

I grew cold inside and dizzy with disorientation. What the hell was he talking about? I never had that conversation with him. That was months before we’d even met! I’d stayed up talking that night with…My jaw dropped. I shook my head.

“What—?” I gasped.

He watched me intently, like a child might watch a firecracker after lighting the fuse and waiting for it to explode.

I shook my head again. “That wasn’t you. It was—” Fuck. No.
No.
This couldn’t be happening.

I remembered that conversation. He’d been so adamantly against the auction. He’d tried to pick apart every single argument I’d made in the Manifesto and it had hurt my feelings. We’d sent in-game messages back and forth for hours, my wrists growing sore from all the furious typing.

And my mind flew to the times before. When I’d poured my heart out to him about my mom and how sick she was. About how helpless I felt being too far away to care for her, to drive her to all her appointments. He’d consoled me then. Had told me I was making her proud by staying in school. That I was so close and that he believed in me.

I was shaking and pale and static crackled behind my ears, the only other sensation where his fingers tightened over my wrist. I struggled for a breath as if I’d been underwater a hundred years. “You’re FallenOne.”

And, almost imperceptibly, he nodded, his obsidian eyes never leaving mine. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes fluttered closed. I pulled my arm back and felt only the tiniest resistance from his hold before he relinquished it.

I stared at the tabletop between us, my mind racing over all the things he knew. Every experience we’d shared. Our regular gaming group of four had always had a great time playing together, but Fallen and I had spent hours and hours just alone in each other’s company. Online text chat, doing personal quests in the game, sharing quest notes and items. In some ways, I felt as close a friendship to him as I did to Heath.

To Fallen—to
Adam—
I corrected myself. “This doesn’t make sense. Fallen lives on the east coast—he’s a student—” I said, my voice shaking, still unable to look at him

He shifted in his chair. “Some of that was to mislead you. Some of it was stuff I never actually said but you led yourself to believe. Sometimes I was on the east coast for work when I logged on.”

He knew so much about me and I knew practically nothing in comparison. On the day my mom had told me about her diagnosis, I’d turned to him because Heath was on a camping trip with his then-boyfriend. Fallen and I had chatted all night long and logged off at six in the morning. I’d cried to him.
Sobbed
over the very real possibility of losing her. I struggled to breathe. “How—how did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He glanced away and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “I’ve told you that I go into the game and play from time to time. I playtest my own product—I wasn’t lying about that. I get into groups and help people finish quests and get the rewards that they needed. It’s fun to see them enjoying the game so much.” He hesitated and cleared his throat but didn’t look at me.

“One night I grouped with this Barbarian Mercenary and Spiritual Enchantress and their friend, Persephone. I could listen to your voice chat even though I was in text. I think we were working on one of the newbie quests that night. That last piece of quest armor for Fragged—I mean Heath. I’ve had fun in other groups but never like that night. I laughed so hard at all the witty jokes that were flying around as we went through that annoying dungeon. And then Heath told me about your blog, said I should go read it. So I did.”

He shot a tentative look my way, but I was staring into my own little happy place somewhere on the tabletop. “I loved the blog and—well, I broke my own rule about not grouping with the same people more than once. That night after work when I logged in, I went looking for your group again. I seldom left the office that week. I actually looked forward to logging on with you guys every night. That probably sounds pathetic—”

I still couldn’t look at him. “No more pathetic than my looking forward to logging on to group with you all weekend.”

He paused, fidgeted with his laced hands for a moment. “Between reading your blog and gaming with you and then spending all that time in game just getting to know each other over in-game messages as much as we did. I got to know you. I got…attached.”

Some invisible vise clamped around my chest and my eyes and throat stung. That same cold fear was back and this time I was numb with it. I blinked, worked my hands on the table in front of me, tried to tune out the irritating sounds of dinnerware and chatter from nearby tables. My eyes drifted to the candle flame gleaming inside a hurricane lamp on the table. What did this all mean? We
were
more to each other than I’d realized—but it had never been more than
he’d
realized. We’d been on unequal footing all along. He’d known everything and had willingly kept me in the dark. And now, he said he was attached.

I drew in a sobbing breath. I was attached, too. But now, I was determined that there would be no tomorrow for us. It was too life-altering. That cut would slice me twice as deeply. Tomorrow I’d be losing both Adam and FallenOne with the same severing blow.

I pushed back from the table and out of my chair. “We should go,” I said quietly.

His eyes widened and he stood. We faced each other across that table for a long moment. The swirl of chaos inside me told me I had hours—probably more like days or weeks—of thinking to sort all this out and figure out what it was. But I didn’t need him to speak to me of being attached. I didn’t need his confusing tempest-like sway ripping my control from me.

I didn’t say another thing as I turned to leave and he followed closely behind. We twisted down long walkways and up two flights of stairs to make it to our suite. After several long minutes of silence, Adam rested a light hand on the small of my back, walking beside me in the darkness as the balmy Caribbean air swirled around us. As my dress was backless, I was all too aware of that hand and the heated imprint it left on my skin, the way his thumb moved across it with the tiniest caress. I was so focused on that touch that I nearly tripped and fell in my heels, making a huge fool out of myself.

Back in the suite, things felt tense, awkward. I looked around the room, with the candles lit and the bed turned back, the white mosquito netting loosed and dancing in the breeze like an errant bridal veil. My heart started to race. How could I avoid the conversation, the declarations that were certain to come, that were hanging in the air like dark clouds threatening to drop a torrent of rain at any moment?

He’d moved to the dresser and, after having doffed his coat, was now undoing his tie. He looked at me, his face unreadable, but he didn’t say anything.

I went to fetch my T-shirt, which was in the dresser beside where he stood. I thought to change for bed because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I wasn’t terribly tired and I knew I’d have no ability to concentrate on a study guide.

I pulled the shirt from the middle drawer on the dresser while he watched me with unreadable eyes. He had unbuttoned his shirt and I was feeling weird and tense and shy. I kept my eyes averted.

I moved to the bed, stepping out of my heels and letting the gauzy material of my skirts float around my legs. Of the three, this was the dress that most made me feel like a fairy princess. Only thing was, midnight was about to strike and I could feel it in every tense look we shared, the silence hanging over our room.

And my handsome prince—well, he wasn’t who I thought he was, either. I reflected on that. He knew so much about me and yet he’d always kept himself a mystery from me. He was hiding still, behind the persona, behind this entire arrangement. Heated anger stirred in my chest. I was most angry with myself, for not knowing, for not realizing. While I’d mostly found Adam remarkably easy and fun to be with, I’d never once associated him with FallenOne. How could I have been so blind?

I almost went to change in the bathroom, but that seemed silly after we had seen so much of each other. I laid the shirt on the bed and tried not to focus on where he was in the room—or the fact that he’d removed his shirt and undershirt and now wore only his suit pants and socks. I wouldn’t look. Nope, I wouldn’t. Confusion or no, my body still wanted his. Hungrily so. Probably more now than before we’d started sleeping together.

I reached around and unhooked my skirt before loosening the halter at my neck and lowering it, feeling the cool bay breeze hit my breasts, bringing my nipples immediately to hardened points. I unzipped the skirt and stepped out of it.

Suddenly his hands cupped my hips. He’d come up behind me while I was concentrating on trying not to notice him. I froze and he slowly pulled me back against him.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered against my hair.

I closed my eyes, shivers cascading down my spine in a waterfall of quick succession. Just a couple whispered words and the lightest touch from this man and I was in pieces, ready to surrender to him.

I didn’t say anything, just let him hold me for a long moment, the feel of his warm, muscular chest pressed against my back stirring my desire to life.

“Emilia, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

I held my breath. His hands cupped my shoulders, traveled down my arms. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted our bodies pressed together, sticky with sweat and passion. I wanted one last memory before I said good-bye.

I turned around in his arms and pressed myself to him. “I want you. Right now.”

He hesitated, looking into my eyes for a long time before bending to kiss me. I wanted the storm. I welcomed it. I wanted him to fly over me and overwhelm me, to suck me in so I wouldn’t think or feel anything else but his hands, his mouth, his body.

I threw myself into that kiss, opening for him, hooking my arms around his neck to pull him to me. This would be our last time together. A tiny sliver of me lightened with relief. At the back of my mind, the greater part of me protested.

His eyes darkened and his hands were on my breasts, softly caressing the peaked nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through me. He nudged me toward the bed and I acquiesced, swept up in him.

“Emilia—” he said.

“Shh.” I put my hand on his mouth. “No talking.”

He pulled my hand away, grabbing both my wrists, leaning against me to push me down on the bed with him. He held my arms above my head, cinching my wrists together in the grip of one hand to secure them there.

He then proceeded to kiss me senseless. His other hand floated across my breasts, my stomach, to rest at the apex of my thighs.

His head came up and he looked me in the eyes, a multitude of questions unasked. I wouldn’t let him give them voice. I couldn’t. I squirmed against his hold, pushing my chest toward him.

“Stop it,” he said. I stilled, looked at him with the question that he didn’t wait for me to ask. “You’re using sex to avoid talking about this.”

I closed my eyes and pushed against his hold. His grip tightened in response and my pulse leapt. I ached for him everywhere. “Please, Adam. I want you inside me.”

His hand returned to rest atop my underwear and he began a firm but languorous stroke. My gaze flew to his and he had that calculating stare that had taught me to be wary. “You want this?” he asked, sinking his mouth to my nipple, taking it between his lips, his teeth.

I gasped, throwing my head back, arching myself into him. “Yes. Now. I want you now.”

He tore his mouth away almost violently, eliciting another cry from me. The pressure of his hand on my sex increased. “What about tomorrow? Do you want me tomorrow, too?”

I froze and looked away. Now I understood him. If I was using sex as avoidance, he was using sex to force the conversation. His hand stilled, then slipped inside my underwear. His touch was light but I shivered everywhere, needing more. “Don’t talk about tomorrow,” I whispered, my eyes closing tight.

His fingers slid inside me and stopped again. “
I
want to talk about tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that—”

I struggled against his grip on my hands. My eyes shot open and I fixed him with a ferocious stare.
“No.”

He moved his fingers again, stroking in and out, and my eyes rolled back, an intoxicating dizziness overtaking me. Trying to concentrate on anything else was like downing three shots of whiskey in quick succession and then walking a tightrope.

“Fuck me,” I whispered.

His hand didn’t stop its tortuous slide inside me. The tension tightened in my belly. I moaned.

“I don’t want to,” he said, his posture stiffening. “Not if I can’t have you tomorrow, too. And the day after. Not if this would be the last time.”

Despite my aggravation with him, his hands were working a spell on me. I was so close, and he knew it. He withdrew his hand, then rolled his hips on top of mine, pinning me down. “Will this be the last time, Emilia?” he asked, his voice husky. His erection pressed against my sex.

Here was my moment of leverage. I’d dictate my terms. He’d have no choice but to abide by them. I couldn’t have planned it better. “I’ll have sex with you again.” I gasped when he moved over me, fitting himself between my legs. “I can be your fuck buddy.”

He thrust against me again, his hand still clamped around my wrists. “But I don’t want a fuck buddy.”

I hesitated, frowning. Wouldn’t most guys be overjoyed about that type of arrangement? He seemed more annoyed than anything else. Confusion swirled inside me. It threatened to rise up and drown out these other, more pleasant feelings. “We could hook up—”

His expression went blank, his voice flat and even. “I want more than a cheap, quick fuck.”

My jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, irritation contending with arousal, threatening to supplant it. “Then you can fucking buy me dinner once in a while,” I ground out between clenched teeth.

Our gazes collided in silent struggle. He released my wrists and I immediately put my hands on his solid shoulders and shoved. He didn’t budge.