Page 141 of Game Night: Truth or Dare

“What? He’s going to think it was me and kick my ass!”

TK’s laugh is warm, full, and hearty. He drops the phone in front of me and slides back into the water, slinging an arm around me and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I’ll tell him that you were sweet and gentle, and I loved every second of it.”

His mouth brushes my jaw, and I turn my head to unlock his phone, ignoring his amused chuckle.

“You’re a lightweight,” I say, scrolling to the only social media he uses—I follow him, too, thank you very much—and click on the status icon. “How about a suggestive picture? I’m shit at being creative.”

“Hmm.” He hums into my shoulder and strokes soft patterns down my back that make me shudder. “Take one.”

I open the camera on his phone and switch it to front facing, and a sudden dryness fills my mouth at what I see. Both of our upper chests are out of the water, and TK’s mouth is still pressed to my shoulder, but he’s looking up at the camera with big, blue bedroom eyes. Ones that send a tingle from my head to my toes and especially to my groin.

I must be way past tipsy to be having thoughts like that. Still, I take the picture, and when I feel his smile, I turn and brush a kiss over his temple.

Click. Another picture.

“We need one that’s a little more… risqué,” he says and scrapes his teeth over the juncture of my neck and shoulder. He slides a hand around my chest, digging his fingers into my peck and only making the blood rushing to my dick worse. “Move it up.”

Even though I should laugh and brush him off, I do as he says, but I nearly drop the damn thing when his other hand disappears under the water and he wraps his palm around what is now a solid erection. I hear the fake shutter click, so I must have squeezed the volume button in my panic, and even though there’s a guy’s hand—my fucking roommate and teammate’s hand—around my cock, I choose to breathe and not freak out.

Because it feels kind of good. He’s not even doing anything, not really. Just letting it rest in his palm. And okay, maybe he’s stroking along the base with his thumb. Maybe I can feel his panted breaths on the back of my neck.

Maybe I snap a few more pictures without looking.

When he pulls away—his hand, his mouth, his body—and he takes the phone from me to lean on the wall and look through them, maybe I swallow the disappointment.

Maybe I smile and joke as he picks the ones he wants and we come up with captions and post an entire thread of pictures of us looking like we’re hooking up in the Hollow Ridge Academy pool.

Like there’s something between us other than friendship and rivalry and banter.

Like for that brief moment with his hand around me and his lips on me and those eyes, that I wish there could be.

Truth.

Would that be such a bad thing?

Chapter 2

Dash

My head is a pounding, aching mess, and my arm tingles like I’ve been used as a human pin cushion. I don’t even want to be awake, but between the snoring in my ear, something hard pressing into my thigh, and my morning wood being compressed by an uncomfortable weight, my brain has no hope of switching back into drool mode.

Shoot. Kya didn’t come by last night, did she? Because as flirtatious as we are, her brother will string me up by my balls if I so much as kiss her. And by the god awful taste in my mouth, my blood alcohol level last night was definitely in ‘bad decision Dash’ territory.

I try to pull my arm free from the weight only for the body beside me to squirm in closer. Their face is pressed into my neck, an arm draped across my chest, and when movement jostles my dick I figure their leg must be hooked over my hips.

The friction pulls a moan past my tired lips, and the person moves again. This time their mouth presses to my collarbone, wisps of hair ghosting along my cheek, and I crack my eyes open just as a firm, hard chest brushes mine.

Teddy!

I jolt upright—at least as far as I can go before the weight on my arm drags me back down.

“Fuck. TK.” I push on his shoulder, and though he grumbles, he rolls to his back and stretches, taking the thin sheet we were wrapped in with him.

Naked.

We’re naked.

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