I lick my lips and mutter, “Show-off.”
Mirth bright in his voice, he says, “Tell me the most ridiculous fact you know.”
“The name for a fear of long words is hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia,” I reply instantly, relief lightening my voice. I had worried he’d press me more about my childhood, but it seems Lucky really does want to keep it light.
“I am shocked and impressed that you know how to pronounce that.”
I study the mat, deciding where to place my hand. Lucky made it hard for me, stretched across the whole mat as he is. If I place my hand on the easy green circle beside his, I’ll be bent directly over him with my breasts in his face—and placing my right foot would be very difficult next round.
But if I choose a more comfortable circle on that side of him, I’d have to straddle his head next round in order to reach a circle with my right foot. He would be able to see directly up my skirt.
He’s made this impossible.
Even if I claim a blue or red circle with my left hand on Lucky’s other side—the side closest to me—I’d need to stretch along his body.
Which would put my face right by his crotch.
But . . . there is more empty space on this side. If I start there, then I might actually be able to place my foot next turn without crawling on top of him.
“You know, it doesn’t usually take this long to choose a circle. But if you’re trying to cheat by tiring me out, then let me just tell you—I can do this all night.” To emphasize his point, he lowers and raises himself twice in an odd kind of upside-down one-handed push-up that makes his stomach, pecs, and arms tighten.
I splutter and glare down at him, ignoring the way my pulse skids. Had I worried about not feeling a thrill with Lucky?
What an idiot I am. It might not be the maddening freedom I felt when Jayk, Beau, or Jasper took control, but there’s something else here. Something joyful and scorching and giddy. Something that makes me want to melt into him and spend days giggling in sun-soaked meadows.
“I do not cheat,” I say. “I’m strategizing.”
He laughs. “Well, all right then, Sun Tzu, take your time.”
The usual instinct to bite back my smile rises, but I stop myself, letting my lips curl as I meet his eyes again. It’s strange how exposed I feel for doing something so small. Like he might mock me for being amused by him. Or like I’m letting him know I like him, somehow. Like I need to hide it to keep my advantage.
But, for all his teasing, Lucky hasn’t once looked at me mockingly. He’s always invited me in on the joke—never made me the butt of it.
His expression softens at my smile, and he murmurs, “Good girl.”
My stomach gives a low, hard flip.
“Lucky . . .” The word comes out husky. Embarrassingly, transparently lustful.
Lucky’s breath snags. His eyes meet mine, and he slowly, so slowly, sucks his lower lip into his mouth. When it pops back out, it’s glossy and ripe with color.
Good God.
Blushing, flustered, I make my decision and lean forward. My skirt catches and, with a wince, I hike it another inch.
Ignoring the pleased hum from the man beneath me, I stretch forward again and place my left hand on the red circle directly across from me.
I’m a little overextended, balanced entirely on my left side, but I’m able to angle my body along the outer edge of the mat so it falls away from Lucky slightly.
And my face isn’t quite buried in his sweatpants.
From here, I should be able to maneuver in the next round—hopefully without putting myself in some obscene position.
“Your turn,” he prompts.
Right. “Why did you decide to join the Army, since you loved your job?”
There’s a pause. “When I was seventeen, there was an accident on the ropes. One of the teenage students was doing something she shouldn’t have and landed wrong. It was . . . It was really horrible. The damage was pretty bad. We had insurance, but the family sued and it got ugly. Insurance came through for the claim, but they trashed our reputation.
“Anyway, the Army was a good way to make a quick buck, especially since I was pretty physically fit and not qualified or interested in much else. Ended up getting pulled into the Rangers when I was twenty and met Dom and Beau then. They’d been in the squad together a while already. Jayk and Thomas came in about two years later—they’d been in other divisions and transferred. All came good in the end. Mom and Dad moved, got a new place. Worried about me too much. You know.”
My heart twists at the sadness in his voice. He’s open with it and it’s clear how much he misses them.
I wonder what that must feel like.
To my surprise, Lucky stretches impressively to place his other foot on the red circle beside my newly placed hand. It means his firm thigh is right by my face, pushing my already precarious balance uncomfortably, and I have to lean backwards to avoid falling down on top of him.
And yet he’s annoyingly stable. And he’s crowding all the space I had to move.
Despite myself, my eyes skim over him and I can’t fail to notice the hard length of him, er . . . at attention.
And very, very close to my face.
That seems to be the only strain on him, however, and, when my gaze finally makes its way to his face, he catches my shocked look with a cheeky grin.
Something about the naughty curve to his lips has me wondering what it would feel like to have them buried between my thighs. My core throbs and my balance wavers. I swallow hard, looking away as heat flames in my cheeks.
“What was that thought?” Lucky asks, voice dipping into a low, rough drip that shivers down my spine.
I half-shake my head before I stop myself.
“Nuh-uh.” Lucky laughs. “That’s my question, beautiful. What thought had you turning that pretty shade of scarlet?”
I glare at him, suddenly liking this game a whole lot less. I shake my head again.
Blue eyes dance. “If you don’t answer, I’m going to claim my dare. And I get to choose where you place your foot.”
Why did I agree to this stupid game again? Nervousness crowds me, and I lick my lips. Is it worse to tell him, or let him claim a dare? He seems creative; I’m not sure I trust him with a dare.
Decided, I open my mouth to tell him that I was fantasizing about him licking me . . . but the words won’t come.
He catches my panic, and his smile turns slow and lazy. “All right, beautiful.”
His free hand wraps around my free ankle and tugs, nearly sending me off balance. Biting my lip, I let him guide me, and he sets my right foot on the other side of him. My balance shifts until my body is curved over the top of his.
To my surprise, I realize the position stabilizes me—but it means I have a foot placed on either side of his head, and my skirt now barely covers my ass. He must be getting a full view of my now-soaking lacy blue panties. In this spread position, I feel my swollen lips part. My breath strangles.
“Um, what—” I clear my throat to try and rid the thick, raspy tone from my voice. “What is the dare?”
Hot lips brush the sensitive flesh behind my knee, nearly making it buckle. He smiles against my skin.
“Haven’t decided yet,” he says, all smug amusement. “Maybe after the game.”