Page 88 of Beyond the Lines
I glance at my cards, but the numbers and suits blur together. I play two jacks, and he doesn’t call me. Then Ben’s turn comes around. By now, I’ve decided I want him to be the last to lose something, and then we’ll see where this goes…
“Two fours,” he announces, putting down two cards.
“Bullshit,” I call immediately.
He flips the cards.
Two fours.
Shit.
Ben leans forward, his eyes gleaming. “I think you know what comes next.”
Em shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe this has gone far enough?”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, though the room is spinning slightly. “It’s just a game.”
“Exactly,” Ben agrees, his eyes never leaving mine. “Just a bit of fun.”
I reach behind my back to unhook my bra, feeling a strange mixture of power and vulnerability. This is me being spontaneous, being free. This is me showing that I’m not hung up on someone.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
My fingers find the clasp just as I hear the front door opening.
And the silence that follows is absolute.
I freeze, my hands still behind my back, and turn toward the doorway just as Em whispers, “Oh shit.”
Standing in the entrance to the living room, looking likehe just stepped out of my most complicated dreams and into my waking nightmare, is Declan.
His expression darkens as he takes in the scene—me in just my underwear and about to remove my bra, Ben beside me, the scattered cards, and the empty cups. It paints a clear picture of what’s happening.
Something shifts in his eyes, a dangerous flash that makes me both gooey and concerned all at the same time. A mix of attraction and panic shoots through my alcohol-numbed system.
Declan.
Here.
Now.
Seeing me likethis.
Time seems to slow to a crawl as our eyes lock. His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping along its edge. I should stop. I should grab my clothes and run. I
Should do anything except what I’m about to do.
But some defiant, wounded part of me—the part of me that’s still hurting and the partdesperatelywanting to escape the emotional hell of the last few weeks—refuses to back down.
I hold Ben’s gaze instead of Declan’s, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it. With deliberate slowness, I unhook my bra, letting it slide down my arms and into my lap.
Ben’s eyes widen in surprise—clearly he hadn’t expected me to follow through—but his shock quickly transforms into appreciation as his gaze drops to my newly exposed chest, while Em mutters something that sounds like a prayer or a curse, I can’t tell which.
And Declan?
I don’t turn to look at him, but I can feel the weight of his presence like a physical force pressing against my skin. The air in the room feels charged, dangerous, as if one wrong move might ignite everything around us.
And the next move is his…
