Page 53 of Force Play

She springs forward with cat-like reflexes that seem unnatural for a woman on crutches, and I hold the bag high, keeping it out of her grabby hands. My palm lands on her waist, steadying her, so she doesn’t lose her balance. With all her flailing, the crutches are nothing more than wobbly kickstands. “Invite me in and we can play.”

Tilting her chin down, she looks at where my fingers press into her warm flesh, her tank having risen in the commotion. One dark eyebrow lifts in a silent question. Why are you still touching me?

“Because I want to,” is my silent reply.

Goosebumps scatter up her exposed arms when I lean in close. “Let me in and I’ll make it worth your while. I have some of that terrible Neapolitan ice cream that you love.”

“I’m inviting the ice cream in, not you.” Relenting, she steps back, breaking our connection to let me in.

“We both know that’s a lie,” I say, setting the bag down and pulling the ice cream out. Without waiting for permission, I grab two bowls and a spoon and dish out the ice cream, taking it and the bag to the living room.

The scrape of her crutches follow me. “Is it? The ice cream is definitely helping, at least until you show me what’s in the bag.”

She’d probably be more comfortable on the couch playing the game at the coffee table, but I set the board up on the floor just like she and Poppy used to do with her mom. One by one I lay out the pieces giving her time to figure out her next move.

Slowly she sinks to the floor using the coffee table to steady her. “You bought Sorry for me?” The question is almost a whisper.

“No, I bought Sorry for me, but it’s not as fun to play it alone.” Unless she asks me to leave it here, I had every intention of bringing it home with me, because I wasn’t entirely sure how she’d feel about having it here.

“Leave the yellow. It was her color.” Emotion shakes her voice and her hand covers mine, stopping me, I let the piece fall back into the box, giving her hand squeeze.

“And what was your color?” I ask, pulling out the remaining pawns.

“Red.”

“Then I’ll be blue.” Turning the board so we are lined up with our pieces, I set the ice cream in front of her, taking the bowl with the smaller scoop for me.

“Is this the most excitement you’ve had in the last two days?”

“You have no idea. I’m bored out of my mind. Poppy, Mia and Lilah have all stopped over. They mean well, but I can stand the hovering. It feels like they’re babysitting me.” Digging into her ice cream, she starts with the strawberry. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be out celebrating your win?.”

“You watched my game?”

“Did you miss the part where I said I was bored? Plus those pants.”

“Checking out my ass again. I knew that Speedo would work.”

“How could I not? You can see the back of your red thong through them. Please tell me you’re wearing it now. I could use a laugh.”

“Sadly, I’m not. It needed a wash. But if you want to see me in a thong, go grab one—”

Cold, wet ice cream flies through the air and time seems to slow as I watch her mouth fall open in an O. It hits me in the cheek with surprising force. Across from me, Indie stares at her spoon, stunned, like she can’t believe she just did that.

“Now you’ve done it.” Catching the melting ice cream in my hand as it slides off my face, I pop it into my mouth and round the board game on my knees. Cautious of her ankle, I pin Indie to the ground with my body. “You make the mess, you clean it up.”

Her chest stills, and the sweet laughter she was just gracing me with stalls out. For a second, I think I’ve screwed everything up by pushing her too much.

Then her tongue darts out and wets her lips. Narrowing her dark eyes at me, she pushes up on her elbows. The sticky residue on my cheek is forgotten as silence stretches between us. I’m all too aware of where our bodies are joined at the hips, the air growing thicker with each second that passes, neither of us moving.

Just when I’m about to pull back, unable to stand the growing tension, she threads her fingers through my hair and roughly tugs me toward her. Our lips nearly touch. They are so close it’s killing me not to dip my head and take what I want. I’m about to break when she turns my head at the last second and runs her tongue up the side of my face, cleaning the ice cream from my cheek.

There’s nothing conventionally sexy about her tongue on my cheek or the way she howls with laughter at the absurdity of it all. Yet, no one has ever looked as irresistible as she does under me, joy in her eyes and her smile unapologetically wide. She’s completely pleased with herself and I’m here for it.

Before I can pull myself out of my stupor, she shoves me off her and peeks at her card, clapping her hands together, then she flashes me the eleven card and swaps places with me.

“This was a great idea. Nothing makes me happier than handing you your ass.”

Pink that wasn’t there when she opened the door tints her cheeks. She studies the card in her hand and hums, sounding lighter than I’ve seen her since she moved. She probably thinks I’m here hoping to get her back into bed, but Indie with her guard down and claws retracted, just being with me, is all I can ask for.

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