Page 216 of Sweet Temptation

I had no problem with that. Andre had a nice body.

Next round went Ronan’s shirt, and before I could say pour me another, I was sitting at a table with two built, shirtless men.

Fuck, my life was good.

I also got my first blackball that round, though. I removed my necklace, to Andre’s whistle.

“Hey, if his watch counts, my necklace counts,” I said.

“If I knew we were doing this,” Ronan muttered, “I would’ve worn more clothes.”

Then we took a pause so I could enjoy the shirtless view while I made us margaritas and slowed down the alcohol consumption a bit, lest the tequila shots had us all throwing up by midnight. Luckily, Ronan owned a blender and his freezer was stocked with frozen berries he used for smoothies, so I improvised and we had blackberry-raspberry-blueberry margaritas.

Not bad.

I served them up and we got back down to business while Ria Mae sang “Clothes Off.”

“Do you have a ready-made playlist for stripping opportunities?” Ronan asked me, slurring just a little.

“Absolutely.”

He took a swig of his margarita.

That round, he lost his belt. And Andre lost his shoes, which I was pretty sure he’d snuck on after we’d started playing, like a big fat Cheaty Cheaterson. I wasn’t wearing shoes, and when I peeked under the table, Ronan wasn’t either.

Next round went the ring Ronan belatedly remembered he was wearing.

I slipped off my earrings.

Next, Ronan lost his jeans. He really was fucking terrible at this game.

“You’re terrible at this game,” Andre noted drunkenly.

I’d gotten a blackball, too. I was usually better at this game, but hey, it had been a while since I’d played. And besides, all the tequila.

I stripped off my blouse. Luckily, I had on my date night bra with all the sexy straps and the extreme push-up action. Both men stared at my boobs, and I wasn’t gonna fault them. They were drunk, and I had great boobs.

I raised my margarita. “To getting naked.”

We all took a generous swig of our drinks.

Next round, Andre lost his belt. “I’m really trying to cheat,” he informed us. “But this game is impossible to cheat at.”

Next round, I got another blackball. But I was prepared for this.

I reached under my flouncy skirt and after a lot of digging around—which Ronan watched with rapt, drunken fascination and Andre tried not to watch—I produced my garter belt, which I’d unclipped from my stockings.

Ronan’s mouth fell open.

Both men watched as I held it high in the air, then dropped it on the floor.

Andre swiped a hand over his face. “Think I need another drink,” he muttered, and I refilled our margaritas from the blender.

Next round went one of Ronan’s socks. He insisted they were singular items. We let him have that one, even though he was wrong.

“Socks are a pair, bro,” Andre informed him.

“Are you even trying to win any tricks?” I asked him.

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