Page 129 of A Little Tempting

Ooookay, then?

“Hey, Dyl!” Griffin calls from the edge of the mat. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, I was with Mom.”

“No excuse,” he argues, but he sports a playful grin to take away the sting. Lifting his chin at the bunched fabric in my hands, my brother adds, “Put it on. Come play.”

I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to make me feel included. Trying to help me make friends and memories, and I kind of love him for it despite the many pairs of eyes staring at me as they wait for the game to continue.

I lift the grocery bag into the air. “Can’t. I have ice cream.”

Griff snaps his fingers and gives a freshman in my math class a pointed look. “Put it in the freezer.”

Like a dog, the guy jumps into action and snatches the thing from my hands, weaving toward the kitchen.

What the?—

“Dylan!” Finley squeals from the opposite side of the room. Her butt is in the air, and she’s in a downward dog yoga pose, but she lifts her head with a grin, keeping her hands in place. “Come play! It’s fun!”

“You’ve already started?—”

“Pretty sure I make the rules, Dylan,” Everett announces from the coffee table. “Jump in. Left foot, red. Right foot, yellow. Left hand, yellow. Right hand, green. Ready?”

Ah, so you’re all in on it, huh?

Buttheads.

Heat hits my back, causing anticipation to pulse through me as I peek over my shoulder without turning around. It’s Reeves. I should’ve known. He’s wearing a blue shirt. I like it. It’s bright. Bold. Fitting for the man wearing it. Slowly, he reaches around me and, with a single tug, snatches the shirt from my grasp, bunches the fabric, and slips it over my body. As my head pops out the neckline, he orders, “Arms.” On autopilot, my body responds, following his instructions. He turns me around, and tingles spread over every inch of my body as he glides his hands along my neck and pulls my hair from the shirt, letting it cascade down my back. And with a gentleness that leaves me melting, he adjusts my glasses, straightening them with a smirk.

“You’re cute when you look at me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t know what to do with me.” He bends even closer. “Even though I want to kiss the shit out of you right now, I also know how much you hate the spotlight. Since Everett refuses to call out the next directions until you’re a participant, everyone is looking at us. I’m gonna let you off the hook and turn you back around so you can play. But know it’s killing me to keep my hands to myself after the way we…left things.”

The way we left things. As in, me in his bed and his fingers inside of me. Yup. My body heats at the memory alone, and I stare at the ground, hoping no one notices when his hands find my hips. He turns me around, giving me a gentle nudge toward the mat and stepping beside me.

Everett repeats the placement, helping us catch up to everyone else. Once we’re in position, I crouch, feeling like a frog. Reeves is behind me, stealing different circles on the ground.

Satisfied, Everett calls out another order. “Right hand, yellow.”

Heat slips around my waist, and I look down, finding Reeves’ hand spread across my abdomen. It seems so big there, his thumb reaching to my ribs and his pinky barely above my pubic bone. It’s intimate. Possessive. And makes my knees weak.

I glance over my shoulder. “Is this how we’re supposed to play?”

“Why do you think we each have on a colored shirt?” he counters.

“Clever,” I note.

He smirks. “You have no idea.”

“Right foot, blue,” Everett calls.

I take note of Reeves’ shirt. “Does this mean I should put my foot on your chest?”

“I mean, if you’re into it.”

A laugh escapes me, but I ignore him and shift my right foot catty-corner from where it was.

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