Page 25 of Chasing the Fall

“Why? This is my house,” he answers. “My games, my furniture, my clothing…”

“Fair.”

“But I do think we should make things more interesting.” He gestures for me to go first, and I start laying a word down in the center of the board.

ZEPHYR. I grin over at Bran. “Sure. Not bad, huh?”

“Very nice.” He studies his rack. “The loser of each round loses an article of clothing each time.”

“So if my points for this word are twenty-seven, and you play a thirty-five point word, I lose an article of clothing?”

“Correct.”

“But I’m only wearing four things.”

His eyes travel over me lazily, and he stretches out a bare foot. “I’m only wearing three. Jeans, T-shirt, boxers. Scared?”

I narrow my eyes. “When you put it like that…do your worst.”

Bran rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, a smirk lurking at the corners of his lips. Straightening in his chair, he lays his tiles.

CAZIQUE.

My jaw drops. “What the—that can’t be a word.”

A huff of laughter escapes him. “Definitely a word. It’s a Native American tribal leader. Or a local politician in Latin America.”

Well, damn.I stare at the board unhappily and pull a sock off. “My foot’s gonna get cold.”

Reaching beneath the table, he tugs my naked foot into his lap. His fingers grip it loosely, lightly stroking the arch and toes. “I’ll keep it warm.”

“T-thanks.” I study my rack and the board, searching for something—

Oh.

Ohhh.

That would be bad. But he kind of deserves it.

I place the letter S at the end of cazique and then peer up at him. He shakes his head. “You know it’s just face value, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

Several moves later, Bran has beaten me soundly. I’ve removed both socks and my panties, and the only thing remaining is his oversized T-shirt.

The only thing Bran has removed is his own T-shirt.

“This isn’t fair,” I stall, standing up from the table. “How are you so good at this game? No one ever beats me!”

Bran twirls his finger in a ‘get on with it’ gesture, his eyes hot. “I’m not an idiot. Even though as an institution it’s not the end all and be all, I did go to college, you know. I have a master’s in history.”

My eyes widen. “What? I didn’t know that. Why history?” I play with the shirt’s hem.

“I was going to teach, but I decided I don’t have the temperament for it. Remove the shirt, Tallulah.”

I’m still struggling to reconcile the idea of Bran with the teachers I had. His growled command refocuses me, and slowly I begin to drag the hem up my thighs.

The tip of his tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and a feeling like power rushes through me, zipping through my veins and flushing me with boldness. My gaze fixed on him, I pull the shirtover my head and stand before him naked, the cool air of the cabin brushing against every bit of me.

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