Trista Ann Michaels by Wicked Lies

schedule for the sex games,” she breathed. “Do you want to do the sex games?”
    He nodded and she thought about it, intrigued. “What exactly are sex games?” she asked.
    “Well, they have a show that’s very arousing. Most of the audience ends up having sex, the rest watches.”
    Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
    He nodded.
    She shook her head and laughed softly. “I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that.”
    “There’s always the beach.” He used the tip of his finger to trace her jaw. His touch was light and sweet, making her want to do nothing more than cuddle in his arms. “We could rent a yacht, go out on the water for the day.”
    She slid her fingers down his stomach, moving them over his washboard abs. “That sounds interesting.” Although truthfully, all she could think about was kissing him again.
    “Focus, my little minx,” he growled.
    He grasped her hand in his and held it against his heart, keeping her from exploring farther.
    She sighed. “Fine. I’m focusing.”
    “No you’re not.” He grinned as he tipped her chin back up so she met his gaze. “Eyes here.”
    “What?” she whined. “This is me … focusing.”
    He chuckled. “No, this is you eyeing my cock and making it get hard again.”
    She harrumphed. “I wasn’t looking at that. I was looking at your stomach.”
    His lips twitched. “My stomach?”
    “Yeah, I was wondering how long you had to work out to get those ridges.” She dropped her hand back down to his stomach and brushed her fingers over his muscles.
    Marcus’s deep chuckle sent a wave of desire to her core and she bit at her lower lip.
    “It wasn’t nearly as hard to get the ridges as it was to lose the fat that covered them.”
    Sinclair snorted. “When were you ever fat?”
    “Not fat, but not skinny either. It was right after college. I’d spent too much time eating fast food and not enough time exercising.”
    Her gaze shot back to his. “I didn’t know you went to college.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I tell you that?” He frowned.
    She shook her head. “Where did you go?”
    He took a deep breath and studied her fingers that he held in his hand. She wondered at his hesitancy in answering the question. She rose up onto her elbow. “Is it a secret?”
    “No.” He shook his head. “Just don’t judge.”
    “Judge?” She smiled.
    He pursed his lips and nodded before saying quietly, “Harvard.”
    Her mouth dropped open as she gaped at him. “Harvard? Oh, my God, you’re one of those preppy blue bloods I can’t stand.” She fell onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “It’s over,” she proclaimed, teasing him. “How could we ever make such a relationship work?”
    She glanced over at Marcus, whose one-sided smile made her heart race.
    “Very funny,” he replied as he placed his palm on her stomach and gave her a little shake.
    “Why on earth would I judge you for attending Harvard?”
    He shrugged. “I heard you bitch numerous times about guys who attend ivy-league colleges. That’s why I guess I never said anything.”
    “What’s your degree in?”
    “I went for business, but instead of following my degree, I ended up flying.” He smiled. “I like it better than business.”
    She smiled back. “That’s the important thing … that you like what you do.”
    He nodded. “I agree.”
    “But that’s an awful lot of money to spend on a college degree and not use it,” she said with a slight frown.
    As she studied him and the way he wouldn’t meet her in the eye, she wondered if there was more to it—something he wasn’t telling her or didn’t want her to know.
    “Marcus’” She rolled back to her side.
    He brought his gaze back to hers.
    “How did you meet our boss?”
    He looked back down at her hand. With a pensive frown, he brushed his thumb over her knuckle as he spoke, but he didn’t lift his gaze. “I’ve known Alexander my whole life.”
    “Really?” she asked. “What’s he