He pulls two from a back pocket in his shorts. “He left me these as well.”
“You got anything else in there?” I scan my eyes over his shorts. “Bottle of champagne? Cigarettes?”
“Just my big dick and some condoms, obviously. And you smoke?”
“No. But it’s been known to happen when I’m drunk and cigarettes are lying around. You never smoked?”
“Cigarettes, no. Weed, yes.”
I give a pretend shocked gasp. “But you’re a sportsman! You’re not supposed to do drugs.”
“It’s just a little weed. You never smoked it?”
“Course I have.” I grin, and he laughs.
“On the outside, you’re all sweetness and light. But on the inside, there is a bad girl just waiting to get out.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” I flutter my lashes innocently. “I’m pure all the way through. Although it’s a shame we haven’t got any weed. Then, we’d have ourselves a hell of a party.”
“I said, have a little fun. Not a rager. I don’t want you wasted. I have plans for you tonight.”
My brow goes up. “Sex plans?”
“Are there any other kind between you and me?”
I press my lips together and shake my head. Droplets of excitement trickle into my belly.
“But before sex, I was thinking we could have a little fun. Play a drinking game.”
“Ooh, I like games.” I give a little shimmy of excitement. “Which game are you thinking?”
“Never Have I Ever.”
“I’ve never played that before.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“What drinking games did you play when you were a teenager and wanted to get drunk?”
“None. I just drank and got drunk. Didn’t need a game to excuse my underage drinking habits.” I shrug.
“Badass.” He gives me a smile of approval.
“I know. So, what are the rules of the game?”
“Well, for example, I say something I’ve never done, like … Never have I ever eaten shit. And if you’ve done it, then you have to do a shot.”
“Well, I’ve definitely never eaten shit. But hypothetically, if I have done something you say you’ve never done, then I just drink my shot?”
“And remove a piece of clothing.”
Staring at him, I tilt my head to the side in question. “Is this an actual rule or your own rule?”
“Aren’t they both one in the same thing?”
“Hmm.” I glance down at him wearing only his trunks, and I’m only wearing a summer dress, panties, and a bra. “But I’m not wearing much. You’re wearing even less.”
“Then, it should be a nice, quick game.” He lifts a brow with the suggestion that when the game ends, meaning we’re both naked, then the sexing begins.
And I am down for that, but it kind of seems a little pointless to play if it’s over in a flash.
“No, we need a few more items of clothing. Well, you do.”
“Babe, I’m not going back to my place to get clothes just so that I can take them off. And I doubt you have anything I can wear.”
Babe. He called me babe. Why has that got my insides melting like chocolate?
“Bathrobe,” I say, getting up.
I go get one of the complimentary ones. Oh, and the complimentary slippers. I grab those too. I take them back outside and hand them to him.
“There, that makes us even. We’re each wearing three things.”
His eyes graze over my dress and down to my bare feet.
“Dress, panties, and bra,” I explain.
I watch as West pulls on the robe, leaving it open so I still get to look at his chest. The robe does look a little tight on him. I got the large one too.
“Slippers, too, I prompt.”
He gives me a look. “Just pretend I’m wearing them.”
“Spoilsport.” I stick my tongue out at him. “Okay, so who’s going first?” I clap my hands with excitement. I’ve never played a drinking game before. And not one that leads to sex.
I mean, what’s not to like? Drinking shots to get West naked?
Hell. To. The. Yes.
fifteen
Dillon
“I’ll go first,” he says.
“Such a gentleman.”
“Double D, I go first because it means a higher chance of me getting you naked faster.”
“But what if I want you naked before me?”
He raises a brow. “You literally just put more clothes on me.”
Ah. Good point.
“But that was for the game. And it’s a robe. Not a bloody snowsuit.”
He chuckles, and I watch as he pours out two shots and hands one to me. “I know the game better than you. It was my idea. Ergo I’m first.”
“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” I lift the shot to my nose and sniff it. “Jesus. This stuff smells potent.”
He lifts his glass up and inhales. “Fuck, you’re right.” He chuckles.
“Good job we’ll only be doing three shots each.”
“Babe, I literally watched you down four shots of Fireball along with two Long Island iced teas and a margarita. And that was after you drank a bottle of champagne, plus whatever else you’d swallowed before you came into the bar. Three shots of this won’t even touch you.”