We’re wedged between the couch and coffee table, Claire’s legs tucked under her while my elbow rests against the cushion.
“You go first,” I say.
She gathers her dark hair into a topknot like she means business, then rubs her hands together. When she plucks a block near the bottom, the stack wobbles, so I slide our wineglasses to the opposite end of the table, just in case.
I watch keenly. “What’s it say?”
“Kiss me,” she whispers, but when I lean in, she holds a hand up. “Noton the lips,” she adds, turning the block around to show me the entire instruction.
“Oh,” I gulp.
How did we go from playing Uno with a cheating five-year-old to a scandalous game of Jenga?
Scooting in closer, I survey her body. Where to kiss Claire? I take in her sun-kissed shoulder, then trace the delicate bone at her sternum with one finger. Who knew a clavicle could be so sexy?
“Can I kiss you here?”
The heady way her throat bobs when she swallows is giving me second thoughts. Maybe I’ll kiss her there instead.
She nods, and I lick my lips in return.
I brush my nose along the skin at her neck, inhaling her vanilla scent. Her breath hitches when I skate my lips across her collarbone. I could stay here all night and be a happy man.
But we’ve only just started, and I’m here for the win.
I drag my lips back and forth and trace her clavicle with my tongue, then nip at her skin, milking the moment for all it’s worth. Goose bumps break free when I pull back, and her chest flushes the most enticing shade of pink.
Her fingertips ghost across her collarbone, where my lips wish they could return, and she clears her throat. “Your turn.”
I selfishly get off on how hot and bothered she is after only one play.
With one finger, I tap a block wedged in the middle until I can pull it out from the other side.
“What’s it say?” she asks, craning her neck to see for herself.
“Take your top off.”
She rolls her eyes. “You got off easy on that one.”
I reach behind my head and tug my shirt free. “Your turn.”
Using her thumb and index finger, she effortlessly wiggles a block from the side. “Play with ice.” She frowns. “Does that mean I use the ice on you or you use the ice on me?”
“Hmm.” I head over to the freezer. “It wasn’t specific, so I’m gonna make the executive decision to use the ice onyou.”
She quirks a brow. “Is that so?”
I snag a pillow off the sofa, then kneel on the other side of the table where there’s more room. “Lay down.”
When she obliges, I trace her lips with the cube, heat building inside me as she darts her tongue out for a taste. With my free hand, I loop my fingers under the hem of her shirt and pull it up, exposing a sexy sliver of skin. Claire’s abdominal muscles contract when I trail the ice along the waistband of her pajama pants and she tugs her shirt farther up her stomach, only stopping just below her breasts.
Circling her navel, round and round, I revel in the way her body convulses at the cold sensation.
She’s focused on my ministrations, watching as the ice melts and pools in the depression in the middle of her abdomen.
And suddenly, I’m very thirsty.
Dipping my head low, I lap the water from her navel. It’s not enough to satiate me, so I do it again. I roll the ice along her smooth skin, the heat of my touch melting it, then I suction my mouth to her body. Over and over until the ice has completely melted. Even when I’ve cleaned every last drop, I don’t stop sucking.I’m desperate for the taste of her skin. For the taste of her pussy.
