Page 75 of The Games We Play
We leaned forward together, over the bar top, his front molded to my back in a way that made every inch of me hum. I swallowed hard, desperate for composure, for air, for space.
“I was,” I admitted softly as we straightened. My body still tingled from the contact, the fit of him against me too perfect, like we were puzzle pieces that had once been whole.
I turned then, slowly, until I was facing him head-on. Mac watched me with that boyish expression—dimples showing, eyes like warm whiskey, lips too full for their own good. There was something soft in his gaze, something reverent which disarmed all my armor.
His hand lifted, thumb brushing along my cheek. My skin burned in its wake.
My body turned to lead, rooted in place by the weight of memory, desire, and every unsaid word between us.
But, I ducked beneath his arm, grabbing the bucket with a deep exhale. My pulse was still racing as I retreated to the opposite end of the bar.
Mac hadn’t moved. He stayed where I left him, posture slightly slumped, his focus lingering on the door like he was trying to talk himself out of something.
“I think you’re forgetting something,” I called, glancing over my shoulder at him.
At the sound of my voice, he snapped out of it. His eyes found mine again.
Mac tilted his head, thought for a beat, then lifted a finger in realization.
“Ahhh,” he exhaled, grinning. “You don’t forget about the popcorn.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “That’s one thing I don’t mess around with.”
“Oh, I know, Penelope.” He laughed, warm and nostalgic. “Whenever you were having a rough day, I made sure I was fully stocked.”
A laugh slipped from my lips before I could stop it, soft and unguarded. I loved that he remembered.
“That,” he added with a smirk, “and a good orgasm always helped.”
A wide grin pulled at my lips as I stood. “Two of my favorite things,” I said.
Mac left, leaving to make one of my favorite things come true because the second was completely off the table.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and turned back to the bar. My rag moved in slow strokes this time, my thoughts trying and failing to focus solely on the task at hand.
“All right!”I shouted, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Open wide!”
Mac stood a few feet away, knees bent slightly, mouth wide open. I grinned, holding up a piece of popcorn between my fingers before tossing it in his direction.
The piece arced just a little to the left, and Mac shifted, moving with it like he’d been training for this moment his whole life. It landed square in his mouth.
He stood up straight with a victorious cheer, both hands raised like he’d just won gold.
I squealed, laughing as I jumped up and down. “That was so good! Even though my throw was absolutely awful.”
“You’re lucky I’m agile,” he said, chuckling as he reached into his bowl for another piece. “Okay, Penelope. The trick is to follow it with your eyes. Don’t look away. Stay under it.”
I gave him a determined nod, planting my feet wide and bracing like I was about to catch a winning touchdown.
“On the count of three,” he said, his gaze locked with mine. “One… two… three.”
He tossed it, and I tracked it through the air, shuffling a little to the right. I opened my mouth just in time, and the popcorn landed perfectly on my tongue.
I gasped, stunned for half a second, before snapping my eyes to his. “Finally!”
Mac clapped like I’d just nailed the shot of the century. “I knew you had it in you.”
I rolled my eyes and tapped my phone where it sat on the table beside me, the lock screen lighting up. Time had flown. Mac and I had cleaned the bar over an hour ago, but somehow we’d fallen into this silly, mindless game just like old times.
