Make Me (Sterling Shore Series #10)(21)

I need something stronger, but I don't keep liquor in the house the way he does. Water, however, I do have.

He follows me through the living room, and his eyes start scanning the room when I turn to look at him. I look like a bachelor or a Lost Boy who never grew up. My tits are just an illusion at this point.

"Interesting," he says, still smiling as he rakes his eyes over the graphics that are mostly from my games or games that I love. Others are from movies.

I have an awesome Harley Quinn collection. Maybe it's because I wanted to be that Harley when I grew up. 

It was a rough time. Don't judge me.

I don't even want to talk about the bookshelves that have no books. They're loaded down with various collectibles from games or movies. There's an entire section dedicated to Star Wars, and another dedicated to Lord of the Rings.

I guess I needed to punctuate my nerdom with physical evidence of how completely ridiculous I am.

"Have a seat," I mumble, and he laughs as he sits on the couch.

"Pirate Nights and Zombies?" he asks as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and return to the living room.

Oh shit. How did I forget my mess?

There's a bag of Cheese Puffs he's shifting to the side to grab a controller. Again, don't judge. There's more than one reason I'm not a size two. Cheese Puffs is one of those reasons. Along with its best friend chocolate, and cousin pizza.

The hermit gamer's diet.

"Yeah," I say, grimacing. "Just thought I'd play for a bit since I had no plans."

I scowl at him, letting him know I wanted to have plans, but he never called. He doesn't even notice, because he's backing out of the fresh game I just started and turning it into a two player game.

"Care if I join?" he asks pointlessly, since he's already decided he is joining.

"Didn't picture you as the type to know your way around a joystick," I say with a small smile as I grab the second controller.

He rolls his sleeves up before winking at me, and I peep the tattoos that show up on one of his arms, licking my lips.

"Says the girl who wears insanely sexy dresses and marches around in stilettos like a boss."

My eyes dart up, and I arch an eyebrow. "I am a boss."

He chuckles under his breath. "I'm actually pretty damn good at this game. Hope you're prepared," he says.

I hide my secretive smile. Surely he knows this game is one that I created.

"I'm still sort of new," I say, smirking, wondering if he'll call me out.

He doesn't. Instead, he grins broader. "Then I'll take it easy on you. I'll take lead, and you can follow. Just don't accidentally kill me."

Awe. It's adorable that he really doesn't know.

He thinks I'm only a mild nerd. He has no idea that I'm the Queen of all the nerds, and I lead a revolt against normalcy daily.

"Right," I say, dropping down on the couch like it's perfectly normal to play a game with the guy who has starred in all my fantasies since fifth grade while looking my absolute worst.

Well, not my worst. My worst was in high school, but you get what I mean.

He starts the game, and at first, I follow his lead, letting him slice through the zombies in front of us as I fight off the ones to the side. My sword dulls, and I exchange it for a set of throwing stars, using ten of my twenty almost immediately.

Then I grin as I quickly finger a cheat code, and my star count jumps up to one hundred.

He doesn't notice, and I continue to grin while rapidly shooting out the stars.

"Did you find a star charm or something?" he asks absently, his tongue darting out between his teeth as he intently studies the screen, focused on his task like it's really life or death.

I just smirk.

"Something like that," I say, swapping the stars for a machete.

He makes the mistake so many make by dropping below deck on the level one pirate ship instead of taking the crow's nest where you have the advantage. You have to find the lead zombie with a crystal glowing in his chest before you can advance to level two.

But fighting below is actually twice as hard. You have to kill four hundred zombies before the lead zombie even emerges, and you have to kill him five times before the crystal spills from his chest.



       
         
       
        

Dale is focused on the mission of doing all this, and I watch him and the screen with equal fascination.

He apparently plays this a lot, because most people would be dead by now if they chose to go below.

"Follow me," I tell him, and finger another cheat code.

His brow furrows when a door suddenly appears, and I grin as I rush through it.

"How did you-"

But before he can make it to the door, three zombies tackle him, and the game ends with blood running down the screen.

"I thought you were good at this," I sigh. "We didn't even make it to level two."

"How did you get a door up? There are no cheat codes for this game yet," he says, almost accusing me of being a phony with that adorable little glare.

"Well," I drawl, leaning back, "it's easier to cheat when you're the one who created the game."

It takes a second for this to sink in, but a slow smile curves his lips when he finally does the math.

"Well played," he says, rolling his eyes. "Well played."

I just smile at him, feeling a little bit smug.

"Do you always play the games you've created?" he asks as he sits back, studying me differently.

I shrug. "I like to play them from time to time to see if they inspire something new. And sometimes I just like to see if I can beat it without my own set of cheat codes."

He rolls his eyes. "Unless you're playing with me?"

"Unless I'm toying with you, yes," I agree, rewarded by his rumble of a chuckle that follows that.

He turns to face me better, like he's seeing me differently again.

I'm not sure if it's a good thing or bad thing.

"How'd you get into gaming?"

My eyebrows go up. "I was a social outcast without an ounce of pretty. You find things to do when others are out with friends or partying. Usually it's gaming or drawing. I did both."

His lips purse. "You were always pretty."

I snort derisively. "You're already welcome to get in my pants, Dale. No need to lie about the past."

A ghost of a smile toys with the edges of his lips. "I'm not lying. I always thought you had one of the prettiest faces in school. Your eyes were always so expressive," he says, and I tense, not sure if I believe him or not.

But what reason would he have to lie?

He leans closer, his finger running down the side of my face. Back then, I had acne. How could he think that was pretty?

"Your lips were always this perfect balance of plump and pouty," he goes on, his fingers dragging across my lips. "Your chin was always small but elegant, like your neck," he adds. 

I suck in a breath when he leans down and lightly kisses the side of my neck. "You always had this bright, beautiful smile that you didn't share with everyone, but gave freely to me."

I'm going to stop breathing if he doesn't shut up.

He pulls back, staring at my lips before his gaze flicks up to mine again. "And your nose was perfect."

I laugh when he tweaks my nose, and he grins, waggling his eyebrows.

"I was also desperately over-"

He bats a hand, waving off the words he knows I'm going to say. "If you'd owned your body back then the way you own it now, no one would have ever thought twice about it, Harley. Your confidence shines now. Back then, you caved in on yourself, adhering to high school bullshit that didn't really matter."

I swallow the knot in my throat as his eyes rake over me. "I've always had specific tastes. And trust me when I say there's nothing I don't like about your body."

A warm feeling blossoms inside me. No, I don't need Dale Sterling's approval to feel sexy. But it's sure nice to have it.

"Fiona was tiny," I say without thinking, then clap my lips shut as all the sweetness dies in his eyes, turning hard.

I obviously point out I'm a stalker by confessing I know about Fiona.

"It's not always about what someone looks like, Harley. Fiona and I didn't have a magical, sexually intense relationship. Hence the reason she cheated on me."

I sit back, frowning. He says it so obviously, as though we've discussed this before, when we haven't. Apparently he knows it's common knowledge and doesn't care to talk about it.

"Is that really why she cheated on you?"

He shrugs. "I assume. We lived together-in a different house than I live in now-and still managed to barely see each other."

Fiona, who I always saw as uptight, is apparently a lot freakier than I gave her credit for being, considering his secret room of fun things.

There's a sour taste in my mouth just thinking of Fiona doing all those things with Dale.

"What's that look?" Dale asks, his thumb returning to my lower lip.

Just the barest brush from his thumb feels more erotic than a mouth to the clit from someone else.

Again, crass!

"I don't like picturing you with other women," I admit.

His lips twist in a triumphant smile. "I like your honesty."

"I like your hands. I wish you'd do something other than touch my lips with them."

Hey! My sass is in the house!

He laughs, pulling back, and I refrain from pouting when he doesn't rip down the ugly sweatpants and put those hands to good use.