Page 87 of Reluctantly Yours

I laugh. I’m amazing at WordIt. There’s no way in hell Barrett will win.

“Are you good with the rules?” he asks. “Whichever way this goes, you’re good?”

I bite my lip, thinking. Do I want Barrett to put his head between my thighs? Yes. Do I like that he’d have to earn it by beating me at a game that I kick ass at? Double yes.

“Yes.” I nod, then clicking my fingers together nervously, I remember why we’re doing this in the first place. “How am I supposed to play?”

Barrett grabs an iPad off his desk that has a stylus. It’s better than me trying to tap the phone with my nails.

“First person to solve today’s word gets to decide.” I can feel the waves of excitement rolling off Barrett. Either he’s excited to compete or he’s excited about the prize. Me. I gulp. No, this is fine. I’m going to win so I don’t even need to think about it.

“In the event of a time tie, person with the fewest guesses wins.”

“Fine,” I say, determined the winner will be me. I pull up the website for the game. Barrett does it, too.

We share one last glance and I can see it there in Barrett’s eyes. Determination. My stomach flips with nervous anticipation. I want to win, but part of me wants Barrett to win, too.

“Ready. Go,” he says.

“You didn’t say set.” I argue, but Barrett is already typing away on his phone. Shit. I think of a word that uses common letters.

SPEAK

The letters flip and everything is gray, meaning I didn’t get any letters right.

I pick another word, making sure to not use any of the previous letters.

CLOTH

I hit the jackpot. O is yellow indicating it’s in the word but not in the right place, and T and H are green meaning they’re correctly placed. My eyes lift from the screen to find Barrett studying his phone intently. He must feel my gaze on him, because he lifts his eyes. Those hazel pools stare back at me and for a moment I think he looks defeated. Unsure. I almost feel bad. Maybe I should let him win? Give him a few extra seconds to think about the puzzle before I continue. But I don’t even have to give Barrett more time. A split second later the corner of his lip lifts in a sexy smirk. He types something out and before I can even look back at my screen, he’s showing me his phone. There, highlighted all in green, indicating he guessed the correct word…MOUTH.

Barrett’s eyes are lit with something else now. He looks like the cat who ate the canary, or in this case, the man who is going to eatme.

“Wait,” I say, even though Barrett hasn’t moved an inch. I feel like the kid on the diving board who is about to get pushed off but wants to stand there just a little bit longer to overanalyze and freak themselves out. I hated that part of swimming lessons. I get why I needed to learn to swim, but if I found myself randomly on the end of a diving board, I could simply walk back to the ladder. I didn’t have to learn to dive.

“Chloe, I’m about to drill a hole through my pants just thinking about tasting you. I want it that bad.”

My gaze drops to Barrett’s lap. He’s not lying. Beneath the denim fabric, I can see the large bulge there.

“Yeah?”

He nods.

“Stand up, Chloe.”

In the past an order like that from Barrett would warrant a mouthy comeback and an eyeroll, but right now I like bossy Barrett. His authority on this particular matter is comforting, and it gives me the courage to stand, albeit on shaky legs. Barrett’s hands move to my hips. The heat from his palms sear through the fabric of my leggings as he cups my ass. His thumbs stroke my hip bones and he pulls me closer to him. Those magnificent fingers of his edge into my waist band, pulling it down an inch to expose my stomach. Barrett leans forward, placing his lips on the skin above my waistband. My stomach quivers. He lifts his eyes to mine and I’m dead. Even if he were to stop right now, it would be the most satisfying sexual encounter of my life. That’s a little depressing, but the fact that he’s going to keep going, that there’s more, is beyond thrilling. My legs are jelly, I can’t move, yet I think I’m going to fall. There needs to be a warning. Do not operate heavy machinery (aka my legs) while under the influence of Barrett St. Clair’s touch. Barrett senses my distress and shifts me to stand by the couch. In one swift movement, he’s slipping my leggings and underwear off yet he also manages to lay me on the couch. Or I might have collapsed. Either way I’m better now that I’m horizontal. Except Barrett is staring between my legs and it makes me feel naked. Because I am, but also, I’m feeling vulnerable.

“I’m going to collect my winnings now.” He says it so enthusiastically, like eating me out is going to be the highlight of his day.

Barrett’s dropping between my thighs and I’m that kid on the diving board again, nervous to take that leap. I’m about to take the chicken exit—back to the ladder I go—when Barrett’s hot mouth descends on me. Maybe he knew anymore lead up would only make me more jittery, or maybe he’s just fucking starving, but I don’t have time to analyze because the moment his mouth is on me my hips jerk and my core clamps down tight.

I can’t see his mouth but if I had to clock its movements it would go something like this.

Swirl.

Lick.

Suck.