We fixed our plates and carried them up to Hayes’ room, leaving the leftovers for the other guys who were still in the house. I could hear a couple of them in the living room, playing some shoot ‘em up video game and shouting profanities at each other.
Hayes had spread a blanket on the floor and tossed pillows from the bed for comfort. The room was neater than I’d ever seen. I sank down, looking at him in appreciation as he lowered himself to sit next to me. “This is nice,” I told him, taking a bite of my taco. “Our own little picnic paradise.”
He snorted. “Yeah, well…I didn’t figure you’d want to sit down there with those clowns.”
“Eh. They’re not so bad.”
“These are really delicious tacos.”
He puffed his chest out and leered. “I’m the taco king, babe.”
I really hope we’re talking about the same tacos.
“That settles it. We are definitely playing dirty Scrabble.”
I squinted in confusion and he laughed. “You totally said that last bit out loud.”
I blushed but kept eating. “I would tell you to get your mind out of the gutter, but obviously mine’s there, too. What does dirty Scrabble entail?”
“Dirty words and vulgarities, what else?”
“That sounds like regular Scrabble with the right company.”
“There may also be some losing of clothes involved.”
“Oh.” I was quiet as I chewed, contemplating how transparent I should be. I wanted him to know I was there. I was ready. I was his. I swallowed and sucked in a breath, releasing it swiftly in a rush of words. “In all fairness, I should probably tell you I’d already planned on getting naked tonight. Tonight is your night, bro. If you want to, that is. If you want to wait, that’s perfectly fine. I have no problem —”
“Smalls.” I stopped stirring my food on my plate and looked up, into eyes glittering into mine. Glittering with hunger, tempered by humor and his innate calm. “Take a breath.”
I breathed.
“You finished eating?”
I nodded.
“Another margarita?”
“No, I’m good.”
“All right, then. Let’s play. Rules of dirty Scrabble are: fifty points for each dirty word you come up with. Lose an article of clothing when you don’t have a play.”
I looked at him, in his jeans and tee. He was barefoot, and I didn’t know about what was on under his pants, but even with boxers I had twice as many articles of clothing. My lips curled. “Sounds good.”
Hayes went first.
BOINK.
“Predictable.”
“Fifty points of predictable,” he replied, writing it down. “I’ll take it.”
I played LICK on his K. He returned with BOOBIES, which made me giggle like a sixth grader as I considered my options. I could do something naughty, but so far things were fairly tame. I wasn’t going to be the first to go there.
Lower lip caught between my teeth, I leaned over the game board and added ORAL to the L.
“Hmmm.” After a brief glance at my play, Hayes studied his rack.
“‘Hmmm,’ what?”
“Hmmm, somebody’s mind is in the gutter.” Carefully, he added UNT to the C in LICK. Then he looked up at me, the heat in his eyes unmistakable. “I like it.”
“I don’t think I’m there by myself.”
I busied myself taking more tiles and arranging them. First one way, then another. I chewed on my lip. I had one choice as far as I could see…or maybe Hayes was right, and my mind was in the gutter.
“Problem?” he asked, voice silky.
“Just…thinking.”
Taking a deep breath, I laid my word out, building on the letters that were already there. COCK.
Hayes grunted and swiped his tiles. “Damn, Mini. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I can be dirty when I want.”
He looked up at me from under hooded lids. “That right?”
I nodded and licked suddenly dry lips. Hayes ran a finger over the top of his tiles and then sat back. With a decisive movement, he grabbed the neckline of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
“Oh.” It was all I could think of to say, presented as I was with miles and miles of skin stretching supple and taut over the caliber of muscles I didn’t often see outside of movies. Hayes was built. He was an athlete, and it showed.
I swallowed. Tiles. I needed tiles.
A long minute later, I gave up arranging and rearranging my letters. I had a good rack of letters. Options. But all I wanted to do was undress. Slowly, I stood up. Hayes followed my movement but remained silent, even when my fingers moved to the button on my jeans and I pushed them over my hips.
When I reached my ankles, I realized I’d forgotten to take my shoes off and huffed in annoyance. Super sexy. I toe-heeled them off and finished removing my jeans, then sank back down.
“Out of moves?”
“For the next two rotations after this, apparently.” I smiled, nervous.
“That’s a shame.” Hayes shifted closer to me.
“It’s terrible.” I slid my Scrabble rack to the side.
“Horrible.”
“I’m not going to say it’s no good.”
“But it’s very bad.” He raised into a crawling position, and with a swipe of his arm, pushed our plates to the side and sat back on his heels. “C’mere.”
“What about the game?” I did as he said, scooting forward on my knees until our torsos were a breath apart.
“You win.” His hands reached out to cradle my jaw and he leaned in to trace my mouth with his in a feather-light caress. “I want you, Birdie.” He followed his statement with a hard kiss, ended too quickly as he rested his forehead against mine. “You’re driving me crazy.”
I laid a palm on his chest, felt his heart thumping under the thin material of his tee shirt. Slowly, I lowered my hand, grazing my fingertips down his ribcage and abs before moving away. Without breaking eye contact, I took the hem of my shirt in hand and lifted it slowly, deliberately over my head.
As close as we were, I felt rather than saw his intake of breath as his eyes dropped to my breasts in their plain cotton bra. I’d wanted to wear something pretty, something lacy and feminine, but I didn’t own such a thing. It didn’t seem to bother Hayes. His eyes were fixed on my chest, an expression of wonder in their depths. My lips twitched. Guess he was a breast man. He reached out a hand to cover one, a finger brushing lightly over the upper swell. Then he was standing, lifting me to my feet and into his arms like I weighed nothing, kissing the hell out of me as he gripped my thighs and wrapped my legs around his waist.
He turned to the bed behind him, falling upon it in a heap of limbs as his feet tangled in the blanket on the floor. He fell carefully, if there was such a thing, hovering above me with his elbows planted beside my head. Dipping his head, he sucked gently at the pulse of my neck, sending a bolt of sensation through my core.
But I wanted to touch him. Emboldened, I pushed him to his back, and his skin was there, under my fingers, my mouth, my greedy palms, his abs contracting in a gasp as I tongued a spot on his ribs.
“Holy shit,” he muttered. “Not yet, Birdie. I won’t last with you touching me.” He rolled me to my back and ran his mouth from the tender skin between my breasts to my navel, a line of fire following in its wake and making me tremble and gasp.