She had the satisfaction of watching Spencer lose his concentration—and his count—as she walked her fingers down her belly toward her open fly. He didn’t move again until she’d worked her hand inside her panties.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

With her free hand, she made the motion of a zipper over her lips. No sound was made, and every article of clothing stayed exactly where it was. All that changed was that she pressed her palm flat against her mons and slid her fingers into the damp folds of her own body. She was breaking no rules—only playing the game.

“It won’t work,” he warned, though the hoarse note in his voice indicated that it was working just fine. “You can’t force me to go any faster than I want to.”

She knew she couldn’t, so she didn’t try. Giving herself over to pleasure instead, she started doing some stroking of her own.

Like Spencer, she was something of an expert when it came to her own body, so it didn’t take long to work herself up to a state of slick enjoyment. She would have preferred to have fewer clothes on, and it would have been a lot more fun if Spencer could watch closely as she ran her finger in circles around the outside of her clit, but she could only work with what she’d been given.

“Sixteen,” he said, almost defiant as he resumed his strokes. “Seventeen-eighteen-nineteen.”

These last three came faster than before—which was good, because there was no way she was making it anywhere near a hundred and forty. Not when Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Not when his hand started moving with a force that had been lacking before.

Now was the time to pull out all the stops. Ruby took her lower lip between her teeth and arched her back so that her breasts jutted out, allowing her hips to take over the rhythmic pressure instead of her hand. As she’d hoped, Spencer noticed her movements in a very big, very rough way. She had the satisfaction of hearing him utter a deep groan before saying, “Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. This isn’t fair, and you know it. Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five. You aren’t even trying to hold back.”

It was true. She’d long since given up on outlasting Spencer. The waves of pleasure between her thighs were building up too quickly for that. The entire room seemed to be dwindling to two features: the hot, unyielding tug deep inside her belly and the magnetism of Spencer Wilson. His gaze locked on hers with so much intensity that she thought she might be able to come on the power of it alone.

In fact, if she didn’t do something soon, that was exactly what was going to happen.