Chapter Eight #2
Wait, strip? This game was clearly designed to get people drunk and naked. Which made me wonder what pervert owned this cabin before Valen.
“Hm, well, if we’re stripping…” He folded his knife and stuck it in his pocket. “I’m in.”
I swallowed, trying to keep my composure. It was one thing to drink with him, but to strip in front of him? The lines were already blurred between us. Adding in alcohol and nakedness was probably not a good idea.
“Well, you’re busy. So, we could just call it an early night.” I let out a fake yawn, stretching my arms above my head.
“Set it up, little lamb.” He walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of that sweet alcohol I liked and a bottle of whiskey.
“Fine,” I muttered. “But I’m not stripping.”
“Famous last words.”
The game started easy enough. We sat next to each other on the couch, the game on the coffee table in front of us. The cards were set up in three decks: Truth, Trouble and Sin. I picked the Truth card, obviously.
“Coward,” Valen scoffed.
“Strategic,” I corrected him, reading the card out loud. “‘What is the dumbest nickname someone’s ever given you?’ Frog queen. Your turn.”
“Hold on.” He held up his hand and leaned forward on the couch. “Explain.”
“Freshman-year biology in high school. They wanted us to dissect frogs and I… couldn’t. So I may have liberated the entire set of specimens and got caught with them in my backpack.” The memory still made me cringe. “The name stuck all the way through graduation.”
Valen chuckled, the sound deep and rich, making my cheeks burn. He could probably call me “frog queen” and make it sound sexy.
He reached for a Trouble card, read it and tossed it into my lap with a grin. I picked it up, reading it. Let another player draw something anywhere on your body.
“Well, that escalated quickly,” I muttered and grabbed the pen from the box. “Hold still, big guy.”
I contemplated drawing something embarrassing but then thought of all the ways that could go wrong. The firelight caught on his scar, making him look dangerous and beautiful all at the same time. I didn’t think I’d ever called a man beautiful before.
So instead, I dragged his arm into my lap and drew a tiny little teddy bear on the inside of his wrist.
“A teddy bear?” He examined my artwork, amusement dancing in his eyes.
I put the cap on the pen, tossing it back into the box. “Obviously. Because you’re so sweet and fluffy.”
Before I could even blink, his hand shot out and caught my wrist, pulling me closer until I was practically in his lap. “Call me fluffy one more time, and see what happens.”
My breath caught at the wickedness in his voice. But being the chicken I was, I broke eye contact first and reached for another Truth card.
Have you ever wanted to kiss another player in the room?
Well, fuck.
My face warmed, and I turned the card upside down, hiding it from him. “I’m drinking.”
“What did it say?” He reached for the card, and I smacked his hand away playfully.
“No cheating, Valen.” I took my shot, the sweet flavor bursting on my tongue.
Twenty minutes later, I’d drunk five shots while Valen sat there sober and clothed, taking every single dare like some sort of masochist. He’d even run outside with his shirt off and dunked his head in the snow, which led to him shaking his hair, and the snow, on me when he came back inside.
I knew at this rate that I had to switch tactics, and fast, because I was going to be drunk, naked or spilling all my deepest secrets very soon. Every single Truth card poked at wounds I didn’t want to discuss, no matter how innocent they all sounded.
I pulled another Truth card, hoping the universe would be on my side and show me some good faith.
It didn’t.
What’s the worst lie you ever told?
I swallowed, not wanting to meet Valen’s gaze. “That I was fine. Every day since the murders.”
His typical smirk faded, and for a moment, something else flickered across his face. He nodded once, like he understood all too well the lies we told ourselves just to get through the day. Because tomorrow could be better.
Or it could be worse.
Like playing a strip truth-or-dare game with a dangerously attractive man I had absolutely no business being attracted to.
Or getting naked with.
Stop thinking about getting naked.
He poured me a shot of whiskey, and we clinked glasses before downing the shot. It wasn’t part of the game; it was just needed at that moment.
Valen picked up another Trouble card. “‘Switch shirts with another player.’” Without missing a beat, he stripped his shirt off and tossed it in my lap.
I kept my eyes locked on his face, because I knew what was going to be below that sharp jawline. And it was going to be dangerous.
“That’s not really a trouble though, because I’m wearing your shirt already.” I nibbled on my bottom lip, letting my gaze drop down to where I told myself five seconds ago I wasn’t going to look.
Yep. Still deliciously tattooed. Still had those abs that looked carved from marble. Good thing I double-checked.
My hands shook slightly as I lifted off the shirt he’d given me that morning and tossed it at his face. He chuckled, his gaze lingering just a fraction on my bra, before he slipped the shirt on.
I grabbed another Truth card and read it out loud. “‘What’s one memory you’d erase if you could?’” I sighed and tossed the card onto the table. We both knew the answer to that, but I wasn’t in the mood to pick at my proverbial wounds any longer.
Without giving it too much thought, I stood and tugged my jeans down my hips and kicked them off.
If I’d known I was going to be playing a game like this, I would have layered up and worn multiple socks or shirts, so I’d have ways to strip without actually stripping. But that hadn’t been the case tonight.
Valen’s entire body tensed as I sat back down, tucking my legs underneath me. His hands clenched at his sides as his gaze traveled over me. It wasn’t like you could see anything because his shirt went to my mid-thighs. But maybe I’d made him uncomfortable.
Good.
That was what he got for looking like some kind of fallen angel with those ridiculous abs.
Without saying anything, he unclenched his hands and reached for a Trouble card. He stared at it for a moment, a soft wicked sound escaping his lips. “‘Pick a player to sit on your lap for the next three rounds.’”
He tossed the card on the table and leaned back. His muscular thighs spread and he patted his thigh, never taking his eyes off me. “Come here, Seraphine.”
Well, shit. I was screwed. And not in the way my traitorous body was hoping for.
I gripped the hem of my shirt as I glanced at his spread legs. Everything about him oozed sex appeal. Had it always been that way? If I sat on his lap, what would be next? More importantly, did I want there to be a next?
“Coward.” He smirked, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip.
“Pfft,” I scoffed. That was my mature comeback.
Without saying another word, I stood, which only made his smirk widen. He looked like he knew he’d already won, knew I’d cave eventually.
Every nerve in my body screamed at me not to do it, but my legs had a mind of their own. His gaze tracked my every movement until I stood between his spread legs.
The room was silent except for the fire burning in the hearth, a pop coming from it every once in a while. My pulse pounded, and he focused on my neck, like he could see it.
His hand rested on his thigh, but he wasn’t fooling me. Tension radiated off of him, from the clench of his jaw, to the way his other hand curled into a tight fist. Almost as if he knew he wasn’t just daring me to sit on his lap. He was daring me to cross a line.
And God help me, I wanted to.