Page 67 of Little Paper Games
I set the stack of pancakes on a baking sheet and moved them into the oven to keep warm while I went to get Kenna. Brinner, what a weird word. Breakfast for dinner.
Knock! Knock!
“Jude, open up!” Kenna called from the other side of the door. I don’t know why she didn’t just come in. It’s not like I kept the door locked anymore, anyway. I threw the dish towel over my shoulder and opened the door with a smile.
“Hello to you too, Kenna,” I chuckled. She went right past me, but stopped dead in her tracks when she smelled the pancakes and bacon.
“Brinner?” she gasped, turning back to me. I nodded, with a big smile plastered to my face. “You play dirty, Lincoln.”
“You like dirty, Clarke,” I teased right back, snapping the towel against her pert ass, making her yelp. “Come on, I’ll make you a plate.”
She looked hesitant, but agreed. As soon as the plates were doled out, she dug in. I honestly could have foregone my meal entirely and just watched her enjoy the food. Not that the obscene sex noises she was making while eating was helping at all. Nope, not at all.
“Let’s play the paper game again,” she suggested as she set her fork down, finally clearing her plate. Her third plate.
“The paper games?” I questioned, stretching for a moment before clearing the table.
“Yeah, the little paper game with the jars,” she insisted.
“Alright, fine. Let’s play. Just let me clear the table first.” I got up, grabbing our dishes. After depositing them in the sink, I grabbed the mason jars and emptied them of the few papers that were left. Instead, I took another small strip of paper and wrote on it, placing it back in one jar. I took it over to the table with a deep breath. I just hoped this worked.
“What is this?” she asked, looking up at me quizzically.
“The little paper game, as you’ve apparently dubbed it,” I shrugged off, taking my seat across from her again.
“No, we had a few pieces in each jar left,” she protested. I crossed my fingers that this wouldn’t blow up in my face.
“Just draw, Kenna,” I urged her on. Rolling her eyes with a huff, she finally drew the little piece of paper out and unfolded it. I watched as she seemed to read it, then read it again.
“Is this a joke, Jude?” she asked so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.
“Why would it be a joke?” I responded genuinely. “Is it that hard to imagine I’d want to?”
“Yes. That wasn’t part of the rules of this game. You want to make love to me? We have had sex several times, so I don’t understand the difference—”
“No. We’ve played games. I don’t want to play games. I want a night for us. Just you and me. Kenna and Jude.” If her shocked face was anything to go by, this wasn’t going well.
“I want to sleep with you, Red. I want you to come to my bed and be with me, because you want to be there. Not because of some little paper game. Just because you want to.” I was apparently at the stage of pleading my case early. Early by about a bajillion years. But it was what I wanted.
“You’re out of your mind, Jude Lincoln. Unless you want to actually play the game, I’m out of here.” She tossed the little scrap of paper across the table at me and stalked over to the adjoining door.
“When you come to your senses, let me know. Otherwise, fuck off, Jude.” With that she slammed the door and I listened to each of those seven locks slide shut.
What in the hell had just happened?
I sat there for a long while, mulling over where that whole conversation had gone wrong. There was something going on with Kenna that I just didn’t understand. Sure, her father was in the hospital, and no, we hadn’t been anything except borderline enemies for the majority of our lives. But, with everything we had shared in the last several weeks, I thought things had changed. We’d grown. I saw a side of Kenna I didn’t know existed. That tough exterior having been laid aside so I could see the softer side of her underneath. She was caring and kind. Yes, she was still a bit of a shrew when we argued, but even that had changed. She was fiery and the sexual tension between us sizzled and sparked into a fever pitch every single time.
What was holding her back?
I shook my head, standing and heading to the sink to finish cleaning up dinner when the adjoining door knocked again. With a sigh, I dried my hands and opened the door.
“Kenna—”
“Don’t. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to discuss it. Not tonight.” She rushed out on a single breath. I didn’t respond.
“You weren’t wrong. So... just shut up and —” I didn’t need to hear another word. We could share words later. Lots of words. We could hash everything out. Twice, for all I cared! I grabbed a hold of her shirt, right at her navel, and tugged her to me. The strangled little mewl of a noise she made set me on fire. I wasn’t alone in how I felt. I knew it.
I picked her up, just below the curve of her ass, and took her into my arms, my lips never leaving hers. Her hands gripped me just as tightly. Not willing to let go.
