Chapters (39)
- Table of Contents
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Epilogue
- The Wrong Game - Prologue
- The Wrong Game - Chapter One
- More from Kandi Steiner
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
“I can’t let you hang out with another guy for too long before it gets suspicious,” Clay answered easily.
I shook my head. “He looked like he wanted to murder you.”
“Then the plan is working.”
I laughed, but the sound died in my throat when we slipped back into the loud house only to quite literally smack into Maliyah.
“Oh!” She bounced back in surprise, and Clay’s hand shot out to right her before he could even think better of it. I knew, because in the next instant, their eyes locked, both of them swallowing hard.
It was like being in the presence of movie stars, seeing the two of them together. They were both tall, far too gorgeous for their own good, and had the kind of energy that made others in the room revolve around them. I glanced at her and then at him, back and forth, and again found myself wondering how the hell someone like me was supposed to make her jealous.
Clay’s arm lingered around her, his breath shallow before he finally released her and resumed his grip around me.
“Clay,” she said, her doe eyes flicking to me next.
I smiled, thinking she might introduce herself, but instead, her eyes raked over me, brow arching higher as she took in every inch of my outfit.
“Maliyah, let’s go dance,” a girl I hadn’t realized was standing behind her said. She had long, jet black hair and tattoos lining her left arm — which Maliyah threaded her own through before letting the girl tug her away.
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, not looking back, but once she hit the dance floor, her eyes found Clay automatically.
What the fuck?
She clearly knew Clay was frazzled from running into her, and rather than talking to him, she was purposefully dancing while looking at him. She wouldn’t do that if she didn’t care that we were together, if she didn’t still want Clay.
But if she wanted him, why wouldn’t she just take him? She could do it — right here, right now.
I ground my teeth. “What is her game?” I asked, looking up at Clay.
He looked like a sick puppy, face almost green as he watched her in return. “I wish I knew.”
I narrowed my eyes, then squared my shoulders, grabbing his hand in mine. “Come on.”
I didn’t know what my plan was as I dragged him through that crowd, but I made sure to parade right in front of the dance floor before squeezing in on one of the couches lining the wall facing it. I pulled Clay down to sit next to me, and the space was so tight from the other people on it that I was crushed between him and the arm. When I wiggled out of the vise grip, I was half in his lap, tucked under his arm, consumed by every tense inch of him.