“Then how about you give me a better kiss?”
“Better, hmm?” Grabbing me around the waist, Simon hauls me into him. My body is flush against his. “I guess I can make the sacrifice to give you a proper kiss.”
His lips slant over mine, igniting my body. As his fingers dig into my side, I open, welcoming his tongue.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this feeling that he sets off in me. I could kiss him endlessly and it still wouldn’t be enough.
But a throat clearing has Simon pulling back. I don’t have to see his eyes to know they are lit up with lust and want.
I’m ready to say forget this event and drag him back to his room to have my way with him.
“Better?” Simon drags his nose against mine.
“Better.” My voice is a whisper.
“How is it fair that we’re playing croquet? Don’t British people do this all the time?” Mason’s whines distract me from the man whose arms I’m in.
“You sound like Willow. It’s a game. You’ll do fine,” Ivy tells him.
“It’s not the eighteen-fifties, Mason. We don’t picnic and promenade all day,” Sean yells from where he’s standing at the starting picket. “Some of us have day jobs.”
“You nervous?” Simon asks. “Don’t think you can win?”
Mason takes a few steps closer to Simon. Their eyes are locked on one another.
“Want to make a bet of it, Winchester?”
“Oh Lord.” I roll my eyes.
“Does Mason even know how to play croquet?” I ask Ivy, who’s made her way over to me.
“No.
“How ’bout loser buys drinks. At The Tipsy Cocktail.”
“Oh no. Has to be at a neutral site. You can’t buy us drinks from your own bar,” Simon points out.
“You’re assuming I’m going to lose.” Mason sounds as cocky as ever.
“Have you ever played before?”
Simon and Mason are going back and forth, ignoring the groups that have already started to play.
“Well, no. But I should pick it up easy enough.”
“Fine.” Simon sticks his hand out to Mason. “Loser buys drinks at the Dixon Bar and Grill.”
“You’re on.” Mason gives his hand an extra squeeze before dropping it and heading back to Ivy.
“You know how to play, right?” Simon asks.
“It’s croquet. I’m pretty sure all we did was knock the balls around when we were kids.”
That stops him short. “Knocking balls, love?”
“Head out of the gutter, Belvy. Especially if you want to win this thing.”
“Are you any good at this?” Simons asks.
