A surge of excitement moves over me as Brad kneels and knee-walks over to Jamie. He pecks him on the cheek.
“No cheating,” Margot says, her voice firm and husky.
Jamie leans in and grazes Brad’s lips with a quick kiss.
“Y’all are lame, but that will do, I guess,” she says.
I don’t know why, but quickly I blurt out, “I’m next.”
“Ooooh, Sophie’s ready,” Margot says.
I grab the bottle and give it a good spin, hoping it lands on Margot. It whirls on the wooden floor before stopping at Jamie’s knee.
His grin widens and he rubs his hands together. I move over to him. His breath, hot on my neck, smells like cinnamon. Our lips meet and he kisses me, his tongue playful and teasing like his kiss on the dock. Warmth spreads over me, and I want to continue kissing him but he pulls back, a satisfied smile spreading over his face.
Margot’s mouth hangs open. “Well, that was hot.”
She leans forward and puts her manicured hand on the bottle. Her nails are painted a deep purple, and they clack against the neck of the bottle as she gives it a weak spin. Just weak enough, in fact, to land right in front of me.
This is no accident, I’m sure of it, and electricity zaps through me as she cat-crawls her way over to me.
“Now we’re talkin’,” Brad hoots, but Margot ignores him, her eyes drilled onto mine, her cleavage spilling out of her top as she moves on all fours until she’s right in front of me.
She’s on her knees, so I get on mine as well and lean toward her. Her lashesare long and she bats them at me before clasping my face in her hands. My heart is palpitating.
She first plants a small kiss on my forehead, her breasts aimed at my eyes. Her skin smells like her customary Chanel Allure, and she drags a warm finger across my face until it reaches my mouth. She traces a circle on my lips and I feel a pinch of lust between my legs; I’m all but shuddering at her touch. I can’t resist any longer, so I grab the back of her neck and kiss her. Tentatively at first, but she’s kissing me back now, long and slow.
She pulls back for a second, breathless, her charcoal-gray eyes swimming with desire, before pulling me into another kiss, this one harder and faster. A warm breeze gusts through the window, coating the room with the marshy scent of the lake, and I can’t help it; I slip a hand under her tank and rest it on her scorching stomach. I take my other hand and graze my fingers over her neck, down toward the top of her breasts. She moans in my ear. My own breath is rapid and shallow, and heat drenches my body.
Brad and Jamie erupt into whistles and cheers, and Margot leans back and sits on her legs. She stares down at the floor, an almost bashful smile creeping across her face. She exhales, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
I wonder if I’ve taken things too far by touching her. But I know by her kiss and her molten eyes, the way she looked at me, that that’s not the case. And now she’s beaming, clearly pleased to be the center of attention once again.
She leans forward and grabs her half-finished martini and slams the rest.
“Who’s next?” she asks.
Jamie and Brad are motionless. It’s as if the entire room is frozen in desire.
“It’s Jamie’s turn,” Brad says, knocking the bottle toward Jamie.
Jamie leans down, bats at it. It zips around in a frenzied circle before settling in front of Brad.
“Jesus Christ,” Brad says. “Not again.”
Jamie chuckles.
“C’mon, you two, you know the rules,” Margot says.
“I don’t want to kiss him again,” Brad groans.
“Well, I don’t want to play anymore if it’s gonna be like this,” Margot says,pouting, her hands pooled in her lap. “It’s boring.” I study Margot and it seems as if that former air of distraction now frosts her face again. She’s half-in, half-out of the game.
“But I didn’t even get the chance to kiss Miss Sophie,” Brad says, his half-lidded eyes skittering between me and Margot. He’s clearly trying to get a rise out of her.
My cheeks blaze. I look at Margot. Her face hardens but I sense she’s not angry at Brad’s loosely flung comment; instead, she’s still simmering about their earlier quarrel.
“Keep playing if you want, then.” She plants both palms on the ground, pushes herself to standing. “I don’t give a shit,” she says over her shoulder as she vanishes down the pitch-black hallway.
