Page 46 of Take A Number
“Don’t say butt,” I croak, my voice catching in my throat as I lean back on his arm and try not to cry.
“Why not?” He frowns and adjusts his glasses as he looks me up and down curiously.
I rub my lips together slowly and stare forward with my hands splayed out on my thighs. “My ass feels like it was whipped by my KitchenAid mixer on high, and I’m suddenly very sorry for my croinut dough.” Dean trembles beside me, and I look over to see he’s laughing. “Don’t laugh, you asshole!”
“I can’t help it!”
“This is your fault!” I exclaim and shove him in the chest. “You could have told me to buy some stupid butt-pad shorts.”
“We didn’t ride that long,” he replies, failing miserably to hide his amusement. “I didn’t think you’d get saddle sore from one downhill ride.”
“I’m going to kill you,” I grumble and cross my arms over my chest. I attempt to cross my legs but wince when a shooting pain bolts up my left ass cheek.
“It’s really that bad?”
“Yes,” I pout.
He tightens his grip around me as his other hand reaches over to caress my bare thigh. “I’ll just have to take your mind off it then.”
Butterflies.
Glorious, delicious, wispy butterflies take flight in my belly, effectively erasing my ass pain.
Dean’s smiling eyes sparkle and lock on my lips as he leans in closer. His shirt brings out the little flecks of green in them I’ve never noticed before.
“Would it help if I rub your ass later?”
“Only if you do it with IcyHot,” I murmur and then smile when he laughs again. I’m seriously enjoying the image of a laughing Dean. It could get addictive.
His hand moves up my thigh, and I gasp, anticipating his higher touch later. I tilt my head, hoping he’s going to kiss me because that would definitely help with the pain.
“What’s up, party people?” Kate’s voice chimes in, tearing my focus away from Dean’s very soft lips. Kate’s standing in front of the fire looking adorable in a little red dress with her curly red hair wild around her shoulders. She clutches several envelopes in her hand and asks, “Who’s ready for game night?”
Everyone groans, and she scowls at us before continuing. “Okay, so, as some of you know, I’m launching this new swingers book series, and it’s all going to be based on the swinger lifestyle. I’m still learning a lot, but I have this idea to open a club in my series that’s based around a Swinger Scavenger Hunt where couples have to participate in the game before they get busy. This is why I needed you all to bring a date this weekend.”
Everyone looks around nervously, clearly worried that this trip is turning into something none of us prepared for.
“Relax, you freaks. No one here is swinging.”
“Fucking right, we’re not,” Miles states seriously and hits Kate with a possessive look that leaves no room for interpretation.
Kate winks at him, clearly not the least bit put off by his alpha male moment. “This is just a fun scavenger hunt that you’ll do with your partner…it’s a little sexy…so you could call it foreplay maybe, but hey, what you all do after the game is completely up to you.” She hits Max with a guilty look. “You have a cleaning crew, right Max?”
Max’s jaw drops. “Yes…why?”
“No reason!” Kate chimes brightly and then continues. “Okay, so…rumor is, in the 70s, swingers used to display gnomes on their front lawns to indicate they were open for swinging to their neighbors. Fun, right? What we all thought of as Grandma’s innocent little lawn decoration can actually be a sign of fluid sexers! Ha! Okay…so, every couple will get a custom scavenger hunt sheet. You need to read the clues, collect your gnomes, complete each gnome challenge, and report back here. I’ve staggered and altered all the clues so none of you can follow each other and cheat. And since Norah and Dean didn’t complete the trail today, we decided to shift that big prize Lynsey teased earlier for this challenge. Which means, the first couple to find their five gnomes, wins.”
“It’s a couples’ massage back in Boulder,” Lynsey blurts out excitedly and turns to look at her husband, Josh. “I shouldn’t win because I organized the prize, but screw it, we have a one-year-old, and we need this, right babe?”
Josh laughs. “Whatever you say, Jones.”
Everyone breaks, and I turn serious eyes to Dean. “I don’t have a one-year-old, but I have an ass that feels like it was Mike Tyson’s punching bag, so I need that massage, Dean.”
“Okay,” he says, pinching his lips together to fight back a smile, but it’s completely ineffectual. “Now who’s the competitive one?”
“Look, I’m sorry for sucking on that mountain, but I’m going to make it up to you because this is way more my style.”
“Swinging is your style?”
