“Dare,” I say, proud of myself when my voice doesn’t shake.
Chris whispers something in the chick’s ear and she grins, her gaze doing a slow slide down my body. “Take everything off and play the rest of the game in the nude.”
My gaze darts back to Chris with a sharp look that clearly conveys my thoughts—What the fuck?
“Um, can I have a word, Chris?” I say as I rise to my feet and motion for him to follow.
“What, why? Are you hiding something, Lambert?” he asks, tipping his chin toward me.
I’m going to fucking kill him. With my bare hands. Snuff the light out of his eyes, ever so slowly.
I stare him down until he chuckles and rises to his feet. “One sec,” he announces to the crowd of half-drunken party goers sitting around the fire, then closes the distance between us in a few short strides.
“What the fuck?” I hiss-whisper. “I thought the whole plan was for you to dare me to—” I lower my voice even further and flick a glance back at Tatum to find her watching us. “You know.” I motion with my hand
Chris grins. “Just relax and trust the process.”
I narrow my eyes. “Is this a Love Playbook thing?”
“What?” His eyes widen, a feigned look of offense etched over the lines of his face, further exacerbated when he gasps, “Why ever would you think that?”
I roll my eyes, gritting my teeth as I grind out, “Because you’ve wanted me to go along with that stupid book from the beginning, and I think I distinctly remember walking around in my boxer briefs as a part of your grand plan.”
“So, you admit the plan was grand?”
I stare at him, jaw locked, and when he sees I’m not playing, he leans closer, his voice low as he whispers, “Just think of how much hotter it’ll be when it’s Tatum’s turn and she’s dared to make out with you while you’re nude.”
“You’re deranged,” I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose as I take a deep breath. “That’s creepy as fuck.”
“How?” he insists.
Lowering my hand, I glare at him as I say, “It’s bad enough my first kiss with her will be in front of her boyfriend and more than a dozen other people I don’t even know, let alone kissing her for the first fucking time naked.”
“Why not? Sure as hell sounds like a good idea to me,” he says with a smirk before it fades, and he winces. “Oh shit. Are you afraid you’ll get a boner?”
“No, I’m not fucking afraid I’ll get a boner, you moron!”I know I’ll get one, but that’s not the fucking point.“Did you ever think it might make her just a tad uncomfortable the whole damn time I’m kissing her if I’m butt-ass naked in front of a crowd?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Chris frowns, dragging a hand over his stubble-covered chin. “That could be a problem.”
“Ya think?” I huff.
“Okay, new plan.” Chris turns around and holds his hands up to the waiting crowd. “We’re gonna keep it PG for the kiddos,” he announces. “When we dared Brandon to undress, I wasn’t thinking about the anaconda he’s hiding in his pants.And trust me, I’ve seen him in the locker room, you don’t want it to get loose. It’ll for sure scare the ladies.”
I cover my eyes with a hand and groan.What the actual fuck?
“He can keep the underwear on,” Chris continues, then slaps me on the back. “You’re welcome, buddy.”
I drop my hand to shoot him a glare but catch Tatum in my peripheral. Her gaze drops to my crotch, throat bobbing with her assessment before she slides her gaze back to my face, cheeks flaming from whatever thoughts are running through that pretty little head of hers.
And suddenly, I’m not so pissed at his plan.
I take a deep breath to cool my shit, then kick off my shoes and slide my jeans down with quick jerky movements, ignoring Chris’s hand motions signaling for me to slow it down like this is some kind of fucking striptease.
Inhaling, I comply, my movements slowing, only because I’m trying not to cross the firepit and choke our best running back. I reach for the back of my T-shirt, lifting it up and over my head in one swift movement, watching in satisfaction when several of the ladies around the fire gawk.
Years of busting my ass in the gym and on the football field have led to a body built for exactly this kind of reaction. Broad shoulders taper into a sculpted chest, each muscle defined and hard-earned. My abs flex as I toss the shirt aside. Thick arms, roped with veins and power, rest casually at my sides, and my back—wide and strong—still carries the weight of every brutalrep, every hit, every sprint. I don’t need a mirror to know what they’re staring at. I’ve earned every damn glance.
But there’s only one I want.
