Dylan stared at her tiles with narrowed eyes. Her earrings were on the table next to her and her shoes and socks were stacked on the floor. Her jeans were draped over the armchair behind her.
"I still think the shirt should have come off first," Clay grumbled. He drank his wine and watched her over the rim. "Mine did."
Dylan smirked at him. "It wasn't one of the rules we decided beforehand, so I get to choose what I remove and in what order. So did you."
Clay grunted and glanced down at the table.
Dylan had to bite back a laugh because she knew that the furniture blocked his view of her almost naked bottom half and it obviously frustrated him.
She rearranged her tiles, stared at the board a few more moments, and finally played a few.
"Crumpkin?" Clay asked. "That can't be a real thing."
"It is," Dylan argued.
"I don't believe it. I'm looking it up."
Dylan tried not to smile as he picked up his phone. She put her elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand, waiting as he typed in the word. His eyes widened and a dull flush spread across his face.
"This is a thing?" he asked.
"I don't know. I've never tried it."
"Well, I guess I can volunteer if you want to try it. Though crunches aren't really my thing."
Dylan laughed. Figures that a man would be willing to do an ab workout if it meant he got a blow job while he did it.
"I'll take that under advisement," she replied. "Okay, so I have a double letter score on K, so that's twenty-two points." Dylan added the number to her total. "That brings my score up to two hundred and five."
Clay groaned and let his head fall on the back of the couch. "Seriously?"
Dylan laughed again. "I warned you that I'm competitive and I'm good."
He reached for the button on his pants and stopped when he saw the expression on Dylan's face. "What?"
"You're going to leave your socks on? That's interesting."
Clay let his hands fall to his sides. "I thought I got to choose the order I removed my clothes, just like you did."
"Oh, you do. It's just..." Her mouth twitched as she tried not to smile. "Socks and underwear is a little weird."
"Weird?"
"Okay, not very sexy."
"Neither is losing at Scrabble," he complained, but he stripped off his socks. "Don't make fun of my feet either."
"I can't see them from here, don't worry."
Clay didn't say anything, just looked back at his tiles. "How many points do I have?" he asked.
"One hundred and seventy."
"Okay."
He played his tiles. "Sexual. Triple word score. That's thirty-nine."
Dylan did the math and sighed. She added it to his score.
