Page 9 of Stick Games
While I want to push the matter, I switch focus and ask, “Why do you want to do this? We haven’t played that game in ages.”
He drops one arm, still bracing it on his knee, but his fingers dangle and brush against my thigh. Holy God. The warmth of his touch fries all but one brain cell and I’m really hoping that one comes through for me, because I can’t be playing these games with Gabe.
His gaze holds mine as he answers. “Because you always loved it, Millie.”
I pretend to think about his offer for a moment. What I’m really doing is trying to get my body under control as his innocent touch sends heat right to my sex. I swear if I get in the water right now, it’ll sizzle around me.
“We’re adults now, Gabe.” Thank you, one working brain cell. “Adults don’t play the ‘yes’ game.”
“Yeah, I think they do. I just think they play an adult version.”
What the freaking hell? What exactly is he saying? I’m pretty sure I know but I’d like to do a quick google search just to be sure we’re on the same page here. Look what happened the last time I assumed anything.
Jenny Garrity deep diving down his throat.
Okay, it’s time for me to walk away from this, to end it before it goes any further. I’m about to grab my book, stomp back to my room, and lock myself in until we fly home. Except…that one working brain cell suddenly burns out.
“You’d have to do whatever I ask?”
Girl, what are you doing?
He gives an easy shrug of one broad shoulder. “Sure.”
“What if I want a pedicure?” Hardly an adult ‘yes’ game, but again, I’m not going to make any assumptions.
He nods. “I’d probably make a mess, but I’d give it a shot.”
I tap my chin. He takes another sip of his drink. “You’d get me all the fruity drinks I want.”
“All of them.”
Hmm, this is starting to sound interesting. With my brain no longer working, the needy spot between my legs—the one that cares nothing about assumptions—kicks in. Oh, the fun I could have with this man.
“If you want a shoulder ride, I’ll even do that for the day,” he tells me, like that might entice me and it doesn’t. Much. Okay, it does. A lot.
A mischievous grin spreads across his too handsome face and sends me spiraling. My brain races and my body goes weak at the thoughts of my legs wrapped around his neck. Only this time I’d be on my back and my legs wouldn’t be dangling around his chest. Nope, they’d be dangling around his back and I’d be tugging on his hair.
I tap my fingers on my book. “So what happens in the Caribbean stays in the Caribbean?” I ask.
“That’s what I’ve always heard.”
Oh my God. This is going to be so, so bad, and so much fun.
4
Gabe
This weekend has been fucking torturous. Watching Millie parade around in her bathing suit has just about driven me mad. She’s my best friend’s sister, my goddamn skating coach, and the last thing I should be doing is playing the damn ‘yes’ game for her birthday.
Then why are you?
Because I just can’t take it anymore. I’ve wanted this woman for far too long now, and maybe, just maybe after we play a few games today, I’ll finally be able to get her out of my system.
The truth is, I know I hurt her at prom. I know she hates me because I didn’t do anything when her friend stuck her tongue down my throat. At the time, I thought I could be her date, pretend we were a couple and make that douche bag jealous with possessive touches and kisses.
But holy hell, when I danced with her and held her in my arms, there was no taming my boner. I couldn’t let things go any further with her. She had the Olympics to concentrate on, and I was basically her chaperone. What kind of guy would I be if I took advantage of that—if I took her back to my place, my bed, and showed her what I really thought of her. But I was older, and with age comes wisdom, and knowing what was best for her.
Fuck.
