I chuckle darkly. Alessia has no idea what she’s signed up for because Rhiannon’s idea of trivia is never rated PG. Actually, all the games that she comes up with for our game nights aren’t. There’s always a twist. Usually, it ties into her career as a sex therapist since these are games she suggests for ‘bonding’ with her couples.
“First up is Gabriel and Aly!” Rhiannon announces with theatrical flair.
I hide my smile.
I push to my feet and take my place at one end of the mat. Alessia stands at the opposite side, determination etched on her face like she’s prepping for battle. She’s doing everything possible not to look at me now, but I saw her checking me out earlier, the quick glances she thought went unnoticed.
I already know she wants me. That much was clear when she was running her little “operation” on me instead of my cousin.Her eyes are sharp and focused, but they keep drifting back to me anytime she thinks I’m not looking.
The attraction isn’t subtle. It’s thick. Heavy. It sits between us like a live wire, buzzing every time she steps too close, or her voice drops half an octave.
This could go one of two ways tonight.
One, she lets that guard of hers slip just a little. Just enough for me to slide in. We flirt. I say something soft in her ear that makes her swallow a little harder. My hand finds her waist. Maybe we end up back at my place, the tension that’s between us finally breaking, her nails digging into my shoulders like she’s been waiting for someone to do this with. There’s no future talk. Just heat and skin and one reckless night of release that we both desperately need.
God, I want that. But here’s the problem. Alessia doesn’t just have walls built around her heart and mind. She has fortifications. Hurt wrapped tight around her like barbed wire. And I can see it. I can feel it every time she stiffens after laughing, like she caught herself enjoying me too much. Every time her eyes linger a little too long. And Igetit.
The other option is she keeps all of that locked down. Keeps me at arm’s length. Builds her new life here in Brookhaven with my cousin and sisters and never lets me get close enough to for us to break.
And I let her. Because as much as I want her, I’m not sure I want to sign up to be the guy who has to pry those walls apart brick by brick. I want her wild and breathless in my bed for one night. I just don’t know if I want to bleed trying to get her there. I’ve bled before for a woman, and it didn’t end well for me.
Rhiannon spins the wheel. “Okay, right hand, red. And the trivia question is: Is shoe size really related to dick size?”
Alessia’s lips part in surprise. Her gaze darts to my feet beforeshe can catch herself. I grin when her eyes snap back to mine, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. I’m in nothing but my socks now, perfect for her to assess my foot size. I’m tempted to ask if she’d like a measuring tape.
“What kind of question is that?” she mutters.
Rhiannon winks. “Welcome to adult Twister. These aren’t your usual trivia questions.”
Alessia laughs and it’s that unguarded one where I can see the cracks through her armor. “Okay, I’m going to guess that yes, shoe size is related to… dick size.”
Rhiannon looks to me for my answer.
“Yes,” I say before adding to get a reaction out of her, “I’m a size 11. For research purposes.”
Her eyes narrow like she’s fighting the urge to roll them, and Cain snickers from the couch.
Rhiannon claps dramatically. “Wrong! Both of you! There is no conclusive evidence that links shoe size to penis size. Though, if you ask me, Cain’s a size 11.5, and well…”
She lets the implication hang there like low hanging fruit, and I immediately decide I’m not going to think about that. I’d rather not picture my brother-in-law in any scenario that requires imagination.
Cain’s a nice guy. Perfect for her. He’s the only man who ever managed to pull Rhiannon out of her own head long enough to take a real shot at love. He was persistent about it, though. When we were in our twenties, we became stand in parents to Eden. Somewhere between school drop offs and late-night panic attacks, the reckless, carefree years most people get just… slipped past us. I don’t think Cain just fell in love with my sister. He reminded her how to be herself again. How to trust. How to relax. I’ll always owe him for that and the family that he’s built with her.
I shake my head and laugh, pressing my right hand onto a red circle. Alessia, of course, chooses the identical spot farthest from me like there’s a restraining order in place and we must maintain our distance.
“Next question! What’s the average length of an erect penis?”
Alessia hesitates. “Average? Um, five inches?”
“Erect?” Rhiannon whisper shouts a stage gasp as if that’s a horrifying response even for her, someone who talks about sex for a living.
Ah. Her ex must’ve set the bar low. “Average? Ah, seven inches.”
Rhiannon smiles at us both. “Look at how in sync you two are! You’re both right! The average penis length is between five to seven inches.” She spins again. “Left foot, yellow. Okay, how many nerve endings does the clitoris have?”
“One thousand,” Alessia answers confidently.
“Five hundred,” I toss out, skeptical because I’ve got no fucking clue on this one.
