Page 62 of Blame It on the Bikini
They ate their snacks and sipped wine as the chessboard between them turned into a battleground. Lexie wanted badly to win, but Grayson was proving a ruthless opponent—calm, calculated, and infuriatingly clever. Every time she thought she’d set a trap, he slipped around it with maddening ease.
She told herself she was just dragging out the game because she loved a challenge, but the truth was more dangerous. Thinking about the night ahead and sharing a tiny cabin with him was giving her far too many reckless ideas, and as long as there were pawns on the board, she could pretend strategy mattered more than attraction.
But it didn’t. Not when her pulse jumped every time his dark eyes flicked up to hers. Not when she knew he might be the man who took away her home, her aunt’s home, her friends’ homes. Wanting him felt like playing straight into a checkmate.
"You’ve been staring at the board for five minutes," he said. "That’s the longest you’ve ever taken. Which means you’ve realized I’m about to crush you."
She arched a brow. "Crush me? That’s a little dramatic."
"Checkmate is checkmate. Might as well accept your fate." He leaned back, smug confidence radiating off him.
Her fingers tightened on her rook. "I don’t quit."
"I’ve noticed." His gaze lingered, sharp enough that she felt it in her chest. "So what’s taking you so long? It’s not like you to hesitate."
She forced a shrug, though her pulse was thumping. "Maybe I’m plotting something brilliant."
"Or maybe you’re stalling because you know you’re cornered."
The words landed with an edge of truth—about the game and everything else between them. She slid a pawn forward, not her best move, but it bought her time.
"See?" he said, smoothly capturing it with his bishop. "You can fight me all you want, Lexie, but sooner or later, I win."
She wished she found his cocky attitude unattractive, but she didn't. Because she knew he just loved a good battle, and she would give him one. "We’ll see about that."
They sparred another twenty minutes, each move more desperate than strategic on her part, until finally her king was trapped.
"Damn," she muttered.
"Do you concede?"
"I really don't want to, but I guess I don't have a choice."
"So, I win."
"Okay, you win," she said. "But I made you work for it."
"You did," he agreed. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Which makes the victory sweeter." He paused, looking around the room. "I think the wine party is over."
"They probably want to clean up. We should go."
As they made their way through the lobby, they said goodnight to the woman at the front desk and then left the building in search of their cabin. It was only about ten feet away, which was far closer than she'd been hoping for.
She put the key in the lock and opened the door. The cabin was definitely cozy and rustic, but also warm and inviting with knotty pine walls and a colorful throw rug on the hardwood floor. The bathroom was clean and updated, and the kitchenette was just a counter with a hot plate and a small refrigerator. In the middle of everything was one queen bed that seemed to dominate the space.
"I'll sleep on the floor," Grayson said, bringing her gaze back to his. "That rug looks comfortable."
"I can't let you sleep on the floor," she replied, her voice slightly breathless. "We can share a bed without anything happening."
He gave her a long look. "I'm not so sure about that, Lexie."
Her stomach clenched at the gleam in his eyes. "To be honest, I'm not sure, either."
"Then I'll take the floor, as long as you share your pillows."
She stepped forward, putting her hands on his shoulders, feeling his muscles tighten beneath her touch. "Grayson…"
"What?" he asked, placing his hands on her hips. "Tell me what you want, Lexie."
