Same here. And I’m not talking about charades. I’m talking about what’s going to happen any minute now—what I’ve been holding myself back from doing for way too long, and what’s been eating at my nerves. Especially knowing he’s thinking about trying his luck with someone else. It’s now or never, I decide.
I want him. And I’m over denying myself.
I hope everyone clears out fast.
I take a deep breath in to ease my nerves and head over to where people are pairing up in teams. Lewis kicks us off, and I suddenly get why we’re working in twos, here. This isn’t the kind of charades I’ve ever played—I watch in horror as Lewis uses his teammate’s body as a prop to help the crowd guess the word. My cheeks flush.Oh no. No,no, no…Donovan’s hands will be all over me, with all these people watching, too.This is too much!
The game starts. I was right to be nervous—it’s the third round, and this is so fucked up.
“Just rest your ankle on my lower back,” Don instructs, pulling me in front of him, slipping a hand under my thigh. “Keep your other foot on the ground, and on three, dip back.”
“If I do that, that coffee table is taking me out.”
“I’ve got you.”
I roll my eyes. “Want to share the word, at least?”
“It’ll be more fun if you have to guess, too.” He nudges me. “Come on—we can’t let Lewis win.”
“I always win!” he crows in response. “Get moving, guys. My next card is gonna blow your minds.”
I sigh. “I never want to play this game again.”
Don gives me my orders, and I follow his instructions, until suddenly I’ve got one leg snaked around his hips and I’m leaning all the way back, floating in the air as he holds me tight. Even upside down, I can see Lois and Lane laughing at me.
“What’s so funny?” I yell.
“It reminds me of that one time Lois wanted to prove that one of my sex scenes didn’t work.”
“That’s great, guys, really gr—”
Don’s hand is flat on my belly, sliding up to my throat as he moves up and down, down and up. I can feel myself blush, wishing I had the abs to pull myself back up to standing.What the hell is the word?
The answer occurs to Adam and Lewis at the exact same time.
“An ironing board!”
“Correct! I’m giving the point to Adam.”
“Foul!” Lewis yells.
Donovan’s hand floats down to the small of my back, and before I know it, he’s pulling me back up. My head is spinning.
“What the…” I glare at him. “A fucking ironing board?”
“That’s what makes the game so much fun.”
“Burn in hell, Wolinski. I’m out!”
“No! You can’t do this to me!”
I slouch in the seat farthest away from my teammate. I do my best to ignore his stares, hiding behind my cup, bringing it to my forehead to cool my skin. I’m boiling—I can feel the heat coming off Don in waves, too. When finally the game is over, guests start trickling off into the night, and the apartment empties.
“Want a lift home to Dad’s?” Don asks his sister.
“Don’t sweat it.” Adam slips on his jacket. “You just enjoy your night, buddy—I’ll take her home.”
Don thinks for a moment. “Okay. But I’m warning you—” He shoots me a glance. “You keep your hands off my sister!”
