Foolish Games: A BWWM Romance (Game of Chance Book 1) (2 page)

Zenobia shrugged again and picked up the drink in front of her. I’d have more fun in my bed. She glanced at Wes then quickly turned away. She didn’t want to get any ideas but man did he look good tonight. Maybe she should pick up some batteries for BOB before she got back home tonight.

“I’m sorry about what happened with you and Sebastian,” Wes said close to her ear. “But I can’t say that I’m disappointed. Save me a dance later.”

Zenobia blinked, nearly spilling the pink cocktail all over herself as Wes left her staring after him, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

What did he mean he wasn’t disappointed?

It had been months since she’d last seen the sexy club owner, and that had been when she thought she had something serious with Sebastian and had felt proud when he wanted to take her out finally and introduce her to some of his friends. The attraction she’d felt for Wes has been instant, but she had been with Sebastian and, unlike her asshole ex, she was no cheater.

“Move that fine ass of yours,” Tasha said excitedly, coming up beside her. “There’s a group of athletes over there that could use some company. Some dime level company. ”

Zenobia was still looking through the crowd, hoping she could catch a glimpse of Wes. “You go ahead.”

Her sister grabbed her hand and pulled her along as she said, “Oh no, you don’t. I’m not gonna watch you set your sights on one guy tonight. You need to keep these guys on rotation, even the rich one. If one doesn’t work out then you move on to the next. And yes, even Wesley White is replaceable.”

Zenobia looked around again to find Wes surround by some very scantily-dressed girls who hung on to his every word. The charming smile he gave the woman had been the same one he’d given her. She quickly looked away. Had she read too much into his comment?

Save a dance for me later.

He probably told all the girls that line. Maybe her sister was on to something. Maybe she needed to let loose a little and have some fun. Hell, it was easier for these guys to change women like they changed underwear. Why couldn’t she do the same?

“Alright,” Zenobia muttered. “Maybe I’ll do some dancing.”

“That’s my girl,” her sister said, pleased.

Zenobia shook her head, nervous about the idea of possibly hooking up with someone tonight. She’d never had a one-night stand before and even Sebastian had wooed her for several weeks before she had decided to sleep with him. She was really stepping out of her comfort zone but then again, she was also tired of sitting on the sidelines. Besides, what did she have to lose?

Well, apparently, she had a great deal of time to lose. Almost an hour had passed, and Zenobia had spent that entire time sitting at a table alone in the corner of the VIP table with the few drunk athletes and women that hadn’t got up to go dancing. Tasha was off somewhere only God knew and had pretty much left Zenobia on her own, tearing up the piece of napkin that had been left behind by the other occupants. She stole a glance at the couple locked in a passionate embrace at the table besides her. Others were either dancing, laughing, or sharing elusive smiles with people they were trying to entice near.

So much for trying to let her guard down and have fun. If she’d had a sign that rotated above her head saying “Loser,” it would have completed her night. It was already clear to Zenobia that she didn’t really belong in the cool category. It wasn’t something that troubled her anymore.

“When is this torture going to be over?” she murmured to herself, frustrated.

Leaving now sounded like a great plan at that moment. Pretty much anything else would have been better. Even drinking herself into a coma in her rundown apartment sounded like a lot more fun.

It did bother Zenobia that Wes was the one witnessing it this time. And, apparently, feeling sorry for her, if the way he was looking at Zenobia was of any indication.

There was only so much humiliation Zenobia could stand in one night. She was just about to give up and walk out of the club when a stranger dropped in the seat in front of her, beaming and carrying two glasses of sparkly white wine.

“Hi,” the stranger said coolly. “I’m Grant.”

And that, right there, was exactly why Zenobia shouldn’t be allowed to talk in public. Or at all. “Are you—alone?” she blurted out, then groaned inwardly from the embarrassment.

Grant cocked his head to the side, obviously puzzled. “Well, I’m not on a date.”

“No, uh, no, no I know… I’m sorry, that’s not what I—”

“It’s cool.” Grant smiled brightly. “What’s your name?”

“Zenobia,” she muttered, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“How come you’re sitting here all on your own?” Zenobia flushed again.

“Uh, nice question.” Grant’s grin softened. “Maybe I’m just exceptionally lucky.”

The line was cheesy, but the delivery wasn’t. It sounded as though Grant genuinely meant it, and Zenobia relaxed slightly. The booze helped as well. Soon they were chatting freely about likes and dislikes, dos and don’ts. There wasn’t much that could be said with a sixty-second hourglass, but when the last of the gray-blue sand trickled away, neither Grant nor Zenobia made a move to stand. After a short while, Grant’s hand had moved to Zenobia’s wrist, not possessive, not uncomfortable, just there. He was attentive to every word Zenobia said, nodding in all the right moments. Zenobia smiled—for the first time in quite a while.

Grant was incredibly good-looking. He had kind, warm hazel eyes, dark hair curling at the back of his neck—maybe in need of a good trim, but it fit him somehow. As they went on talking, Zenobia learned that Grant was a journalist and worked just a few blocks off Main Street—conveniently close to Zenobia’s apartment. Zenobia caught sight of Wes behind the bar, and she thought that for a moment Wes’s face was knotted in a frown. It was just a trick of the light, though, because the moment Wes caught her eye he smiled, big and bright, and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Do you want to go someplace else?” Grant asked her, and Zenobia, too busy staring at Wes’s smile, nearly missed it.

“Oh, uh… sure.” She flushed again, the pointed tips of her ears burning fiery red. “Um… my place?”

“Lead the way.”

That’s exactly what Zenobia did. Trusting that Tasha wouldn’t miss her, she picked up her coat and sneaked a glance towards the bar, where Wes was entertaining a small clutter of customers, his cocktail shaker swishing mid-air.

Bye, she mouthed, and lowered her gaze quickly when Wes winked at him, catching the shaker with one hand behind his back.

At least she wasn’t leaving alone. She didn’t know why she wasn’t happier about that. She was going to get laid, which had been Tasha’s sole purpose in getting her out of the house; Grant was stupidly good looking, and Zenobia was sure most of the club was staring at them in mixed envy and approval as they made their slow way out. So why did Zenobia itch to turn back and call it all off? She couldn’t do that. Social pariah or not, she wasn’t going to reject the one guy who paid her any attention the whole night for no reason whatsoever. She wasn’t yet that pathetic.

Chapter 2

Zenobia didn’t have her car, so she climbed in Grant’s sleek silver-gray Audi, navigating him through the late-night Miami traffic towards Zenobia’s condo. The short journey was devoid of awkward small talk, the soft rock music playing from the radio enough of a distraction to keep Zenobia focused.

“Nice place,” Grant said, sounding impressed.

“The house is gonna be a mess,” Zenobia justified herself as they walked out of the elevator, fishing in her pockets for her keys. “I haven’t really had much time to clean.”

“You should see mine,” Grant chuckled, brushing up against Zenobia as she fumbled with the lock.

Zenobia shivered, her body heat kicking up instantly. She instinctively pressed back, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. As Zenobia fumbled with the keys, Grant pressed himself flush behind her, his very obvious erection straining against his zipper and digging in the crease of Zenobia’s ass through his jeans. The keys fell to the floor with a clatter as Zenobia’s forehead hit the door, a low moan dragging its way out of her throat.

Grant lapped the soft skin behind her ear, his fingers hooking in Zenobia’s bra to keep her in place.

“God,” Zenobia groaned, pushing back.

The delicious friction of Grant’s rock hard cock sent spikes of pleasure down her spine even through layers of clothing. Shaking, Zenobia bent down awkwardly to retrieve the keys, but as soon as she was bending low enough, he felt himself being pushed forwards. She threw her hands out to balance herself on the welcome rug, one of Grant’s hands pressing down on her back, the other still on her left hip, keeping her down.

“Been hard—since we left the bar—” he whispered, the tip of his tongue lavishing the pointed tip of Zenobia’s ear. “You knew, didn’t you?” he pressed on, biting down on Zenobia’s earlobe.

Zenobia’s head was spinning. A thrill went down her spine when Grant moved his hand on her side and began to fondle her breast. While he reached into her bra-cup and worked her nipple with his finger, she could feel him working one of his thighs between her own, spreading Zenobia’s legs further apart, his knee dragging over Zenobia’s pussy through her dress and panties.

“Fuck,” Zenobia cursed, forehead thumping against the closed door, Grant’s hard dick digging against the back of Zenobia’s leg.

“I think you knew,” Grant purred, massaging her nipple and lapping at the back of Zenobia’s neck with tiny, kitten-like licks, “All through the night, all your cute little smiles, your legs knocking into mine, the teasing, the touches…”

Zenobia gasped, her hands scraping at the rug underneath her knees. Grant bit lightly on Zenobia’s earlobe, and Zenobia moaned again, grinding down against Grant’s knee, trying to squeeze her legs shut to keep the friction going.

Grant chuckled under his breath and worked his other leg in between the span of Zenobia’s, keeping them as far apart as he could in the narrow hallway. “My way tonight,” he whispered as he slid his hands down Zenobia’s sides.

Zenobia let out a ragged moan, burying her face in her crossed arms. She had never been so shamelessly turned on since…better not go there at all. Breathing in harsh, erratic pants, she arched her back like a cat, feeling the heat of Grant’s body seeping through the layers of clothing.

Zenobia itched to get him naked, feel the slick hotness of skin on skin, the shocking jolt of cold marble under her, the burn of the rug against her knees.

“Grant,” she moaned, almost begging, throwing her head back, her neck stretched taut and inviting.

Grant leaned down, his mouth slowly trailing down the unmarked skin of Zenobia’s throat, peppering tiny bites all down to the hollow of her throat, his tongue immediately following, wet and hot, soothing the sting.

Zenobia lost herself in the sensation, the line between pleasure and pain blurring deliriously. She was hyper aware of the fact that they were rubbing and rocking against each other, kneeling in front of her
front door at the end of a brightly lit hallway where every other neighbor could potentially walk in on them. Zenobia’s teeth sunk in his bottom lip, trying to keep in the prolonged moan that longed to get out of him. She didn’t know up from down anymore. 

Grant’s fingers twisted in Zenobia’s hair, grinding down against the curve of his ass, as though he was trying to fuck her through their jeans. Zenobia spread her legs wider, panting wetly against his joined arms, rocking back against Grant’s hard crotch greedily. Little spots of light erupted in front of Zenobia’s eyes, Grant’s lips puckered around a spot of skin right behind Zenobia’s ear, teeth pulling, blood rushing to the surface in a purpling bruise.

“Grant…” Zenobia groaned, pushing back against his hard dick, straining the fabric of his pants, “Fuck, Grant, please, I need more…”

“What do you need?” Grant panted, pulling her back up with the grip on her hair. He sucked on the hollow of Zenobia’s throat, feeling the flutter of her heartbeat as she swallowed hard.

“Anything—anything, for the love of—Grant—” All of Zenobia’s blood rushed downwards, making her feel slightly dizzy. She felt Grant’s other hand leave the small of her back to run across her side. Zenobia let out another groan as he slipped his hand into her bra and rubbed a finger over her hard nipple.

“Please…”

Grant’s straining erection rocked sensually against her, digging as he rose up a little on his knees. The hand on Zenobia’s breast traveled upwards, slowly pulling down the straps of her dress. Grant removed his mouth from Zenobia’s neck and brushed his fingertips against Zenobia’s lips.