the bottle of Tequila, making sure my hair is no longer at his disposal.
“Sit up, quarterback. We’re going to play a game.”
“What game?” He eyes me curiously, his bulging biceps elevating his upper body.
“Since you’ve got a boner for intel, what better way than a drinking game to get to know each other?”
“First of all, I didn’t get a boner,” he scoffs, but when my mocking eyes lock on his stirring cock, he sits up straight, trying his best to conceal the evidence of my statement. Guess I’m not the only one here with their libido on high alert tonight. “And second, aren’t we a little old for drinking games?”
I place both hands over his mouth and shake my head from side to side.
“No more blasphemous comments out of you. We’re going to play, and you’re going to have fun. Trust me,” I say with a flirtatious wink.
I feel his cocky-ass smirk touch my palms, and I immediately pull away, as if the sun just scorched my skin, leaving a visible imprint on me.
“Fine,” he replies, caving in to my demands. “So what are we playing? Some truth or dare thing?”
“Can you be any more bourgeois?” I yawn, feigning boredom.
“Then, what?” He chuckles amused and continues, “Remember, I can’t get plastered since I’m your ride home.”
“Hmm, you’re right,” I muse.
I start tapping the pad of my finger on the tip of my nose, trying to come up with an alternative that will keep me both entertained, as well as distracted from wanting to climb Finn like a tree. Still, I don’t have to necessarily touch him to have my Finn fix in other ways.
“Now, don’t you go and worry that pretty head of yours. I got the perfect game for us,” I announce, sitting cross-legged and facing the football god in front of me with good old Jose in between my thighs.
I break the seal and take a pull of tequila to warm me up while I wait for Finn to get comfortable. As much as he tries to shift his bulky legs to sit the same way as me, he just can’t master it. Still, I give him props for trying. I mean, his body is all pure steel, so maneuvering such massive machinery must have its kinks. But damn. If Finn’s statuesque form is insane with clothes on his tight frame, I can only imagine how hot he looks without them.
“I don’t know if I like that look in your eye,” he announces when I take too long to respond, thinking of all the delicious ways I can have my fill of his strapping muscles.
“Since you can’t drink too much, we need to come up with an alternative—one that will be advantageous and fair to both of us. I say, we ask each other questions, and when we refuse to shell out the dirt, then, as punishment, either we can take a swig out of my man here.” I tap the bottle in question before laying my devious scheme on him, “or we can take off a piece of clothing. However, if whoever is in the hot seat does answer, then it falls on the person who did the questioning to drink up or strip down. The wrinkle is that you can’t repeat the same punishment twice in a row. Got it? Or was that too hard for you to keep up with?”
“You want to see me without my clothes on?” he asks, half-thrilled at the idea, half-petrified, completely disregarding the little dig I made at his expense.
“Is that your first question? Because, I gotta tell you, that shirt you’ve got on is out of here sooner than I thought. Yes, pretty boy. I want you to take your clothes off. If I have to endure a night with you, then the least you can do is give me some eye-candy to indulge in. And in return, you have the pleasure of my company. Now isn’t that a fair trade?”
He chuckles again and takes the bottle from my grip, taking a healthy gulp rather than rocking my world with his bare chest. I pretend to pout at his poor choice of punishment.
“Don’t take the fun out of my game, quarterback, or else it’s going to be a long night for both of us.”
“I sure hope so,” he teases, handing me back the bottle. “My turn to ask the questions.”
“Go on.”
“You told me you lived in a trailer. Do you still live there?”