Mind Games

by T. K. Leigh

  He takes my earlobe between his teeth, nibbling. This time, the sensation is much more charged, much more electric, the idea that he’s doing this because he wants to, not because the game requires him to, flaming the embers burning within.

  He locks his gaze with mine. “Like I’ve been searching my entire life for something when it’s been right in front of me all along.”

  A slight rustling cuts through the still night air, and he floats his attention across the coffee table. I follow his line of sight as Chloe breaks apart from Lincoln. I’d almost forgotten about them, too consumed by the spell Asher cast over me.

  He pulls away, helping me back to a sitting position. Just as Chloe crawls off Lincoln’s lap, Asher curves into me once more. “Regardless of whether that bottle eventually lands on me, I will be kissing you tonight, Isabella. That’s a promise. Just like I should have let you kiss me all those years ago.”

  Gasping, I shoot my wide eyes to his, feigning confusion. “I don’t know wha—”

  “Yes, you do. And I’ll be damned if I make that same mistake again.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “This game is rigged,” Lincoln states over Chloe’s feigned moans of ecstasy, her chest heaving dramatically as I blow a light stream of air onto her finger.

  “We’ve been waiting for one of you to spin the other all night,” Asher adds.

  I stand and scoot around the coffee table, smirking as I return to my position next to him on the couch.

  “When you finally do, all you have to do is blow on her finger? I feel short-changed.” He casually drapes his arm along my shoulders. This feels right, like no time at all has passed since this was a natural occurrence for us.

  “Rules are rules,” I sing, giving him a knowing look. “We can’t just make out because you want us to, hornball.” I jab him in the stomach. “If you want to see girls make out, go watch a porno.”

  His eyes darken as they rake over me, narrowing in on my chest. “Want to join me?”

  “Maybe later.” I lean closer, my lips skimming against his. He sucks in a breath, his muscles tightening. “Too bad there’s no power.” I abruptly pull back, pretending to be unaffected when, deep down, I don’t know how much longer I can last without tossing out the rules and kissing him like I want to. “It’s your turn.” I hit the START button on the timer app on Lincoln’s phone. “Go.”

  Asher’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down in a hard swallow as he scrubs a hand over his face, attempting to compose himself. Expelling a long breath, he tilts his head from side to side, putting his game face on.

  “Never have I ever taken a sexy selfie.”

  “Nope!” I imitate a buzzer. “Already asked. Try again.”

  His head falls on the back of the couch, looking to the sky. This is my first trip to Vegas, but in the short time I’ve been here, I’ve never seen the evening sky so clear, even last night. Now that there’s no other light to fight with the stars, I can appreciate their brilliance.

  “Never have I ever slept with someone whose name I couldn’t remember the next morning.”

  “Try again.”

  “Shit.”

  He squeezes his eyes shut, and I can’t help but admire the concentration. It’s identical to how he looks when he’s in the middle of writing a song. The focus. The intensity. The passion. I can only imagine his expression when doing other…things that require concentration.

  “Tick-tock,” I tease.

  “Never have I ever…”

  “Five seconds,” Lincoln taunts.

  “Never have I ever…” He brings his eyes to mine, his lips parting as he struggles to come up with something. As his gaze leisurely travels down my face, his mouth curves into a sly smile.

  “Four… Three…” Lincoln continues his countdown as Asher’s smirk grows, his eyes lighting up with promise.

  One look, and I know he has no intention of saying anything that would keep him safe from rolling those dice, regardless of the risk of the bottle landing on someone else. It’s a risk he’s willing to take just to have the chance to kiss me.

  But I’d let him kiss me even if it’s not part of our game.

  “Never have I ever…,” he repeats once more, his stare never leaving mine.

  Chloe joins in with Lincoln’s countdown, their shouts reminding me I’m not alone. I force my gaze from his, counting along with them. “Two… One…”

  Swiping up the bottle, I shove it into Asher’s willing hands. “Spin it, baby.”

  He flashes me a devious smile as he returns the bottle to the table. Remembering the order we’ve been doing things all evening, he retrieves the dice and rolls. When they land on KISS and LIPS, I whistle, trying to mask the butterflies flapping in my stomach.

  “I’m so looking forward to watching you two make out.” Chloe jabs Lincoln in the side. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and whispering something into her ear. Judging by the blush building on her cheeks, I doubt it was something as mundane as the weather forecast for the week.

  “Time to spin, Asher,” I instruct, hoping my voice drowns out the thunderous pounding of my heart.

  “With pleasure.” Grabbing the bottle, he places it on its side and spins.

  I scoot to the edge of my seat, watching as it goes around. And around. And around. Over. And over. And over. No other spin felt like it took this long, like it’s on a perpetual roulette wheel. Now I know what gamblers go through as they watch that tiny ball travel in an excruciatingly slow circle, bouncing from number to number. It could mean the difference between going home with everything they’ve dreamed of or walking away empty-handed.

  The bottle begins to slow and my body tenses, teeth tugging at my bottom lip. My breathing increasing, the seconds stretch until it finally comes to a stop. Right in front of me. I expel my nervous energy with a laugh.

  “Well then…” He leans toward me, scanning me up and down. “I suppose it’s time we finally kiss.” Indecision flashes across his expression, the see-saw of his emotions returning now that we’re about to cross the proverbial point of no return. “Unless…”

  Not wanting him to retreat when we’ve finally made it here, I clutch his cheeks, forcing him to only see me. Nothing else. “I suppose it is.”

  I lower myself onto my back, bringing him on top of me. The instant his body presses to mine, all the reasons we shouldn’t be playing this dangerous game disappear, only raw need and desire consuming his entire being.

  “I suppose it is,” he repeats in a seductive tone. His lips scrape against mine, sending a delicious tremble through me. Then he nibbles on the bottom one, the unexpected jolt of pain serving to intensify the ache in my core.

  “The dice say kiss my lips, not bite them.”

  “I know.” He pulls back, his gaze locking with mine so I can see the truth in his words. “But I’ve imagined this for years now. I need to take advantage of it while I can, while we’re still in the bubble.”

  I inhale a sharp breath. “Years?” That’s all I hear, not his insinuation that once the blackout bubble vanishes, so will whatever this is. That doesn’t matter right now. All that does is this moment that’s been almost a decade in the making.

  “Yes, Iz.” He nuzzles his nose against mine, the simple gesture making my heart expand so much it’s ready to combust. “Years.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  He smooths a tendril of hair behind my ear, the seconds agonizingly slow as his lips descend. My breaths come in pants and I brace for my first taste. So help me, nothing better interrupt this from happening, not after hours of unbearable foreplay.

  When his mouth lands on mine, all the tension leaves me in a moan, my body fusing into the couch. The joining of our lips is light at first, neither one of us pushing forward. As much as I want to succumb to the swiping of his tongue against mine, his breath giving me life, his taste on my lips, I want to savor in this. It may be the only time I get to know if he’s gentle or dominat
ing, sweet or savory, desperate or hopeful. I don’t want it to end. Not yet.

  “God, Izzy,” he groans, pressing his mouth more firmly against mine. I don’t wait for him to demand entry, parting my lips for him to explore me fully, to have all of me.

  His tongue swipes against mine, penetrating, devouring, needy. I tighten my hold on him, losing myself in this moment. I wasn’t sure what to expect. A part of me worried he’d kiss like his brother. Jessie’s kisses weren’t bad, so to speak, but it felt…wrong. Like there was no emotion behind them. Like he was kissing me as a precursor to getting laid. Like he was going through the motions, reading an instruction manual, inserting part A into slot B, then moving on to the next set of directions.

  But it’s different with Asher. I can physically feel the passion brimming inside him as he takes his time exploring, discovering everything I have to offer. He consumes every inch of me with his kiss, leaving no part unaffected. I pull him closer, wrapping my legs tighter around him and pulsing. Another groan falls from his throat as he concedes to my unspoken demand, kissing me with more urgency, more ardor, more everything.

  He threads his fingers into my hair, tugging, pulling, making me burn for him even more. I try not to think about the fact that I’m kissing Asher York. That we’ve obliterated any line between friendship and…whatever this is. That I’ve put him in the difficult position of betraying his brother. For brothers as close as Asher and Jessie, this is the ultimate betrayal.

  His desperate rhythm wanes, turning into something sweeter, yet still as deep. “If I don’t stop now, I’ll never be able to,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice raspy and heady, evidencing how much he hungers for just a taste of me. He nibbles on my lower lip one last time, which causes a nervous giggle to escape.

  He gradually pulls back, helping me into a sitting position. A movement out of the corner of my eye reminds me we’re not alone.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” I say breathlessly, trying to downplay the electric currents still pulsing through me, my skin unusually sensitive to even the light breeze caressing it.

  “Hopefully in a good way.” Asher wraps an arm around me, folding me into him. It’s not like before when he brushed his fingers along my skin. Now his hold on me is firm and purposeful, leaving no question in my mind, in anyone’s mind, that I belong to him, and vice versa. But for how much longer?

  “In an amazing way.” I flash him a wide smile, then quickly turn my attention back to Chloe. “Now, I believe it’s Lincoln’s turn. Or is it Chloe’s?”

  They share a look before Chloe stands. “Actually, I hate to be the one to put an end to game night, but I’m beat. It’s been a long day. And tomorrow will be another long one with heading home, provided the power comes back on.”

  “Always the responsible one, aren’t you?” I retort.

  “Always.”

  I steal a glance at my watch to see it’s only a little after midnight. Chloe’s sleep schedule is almost as out of whack as mine. She often pulls all-nighters on the weekends, since that seems to be when a great deal of celebrity gossip occurs. I highly doubt she’s going to her room to sleep, a suspicion that’s confirmed when Lincoln offers to walk her to her room.

  The second they disappear into the darkened house, an awkward silence stretches between Asher and me. He drops his arm, increasing the distance between us.

  “Sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, at complete odds with the confident man whose kiss consumed me mere seconds ago. “I know this…” He trails off, licking his lips, collecting his thoughts. “Well, I guess I could have used my pass. Should have used my pass.” A subtle laugh escapes his throat before his eyes darken, his voice coming out a potent growl. “But I’ve been wondering how your lips tasted for years, and I couldn’t resist the temptation anymore, to hell with the consequences.”

  Leaning toward him, I hover my mouth over his. “And how do they taste?”

  “Like the sweetest drug.”

  I pause before asking my next question, unsure how he’ll respond. Unsure if I’m prepared for him to reject me now that it’s not part of the game. “Do you want another hit?”

  Groaning, his fingers circle my nape, locking me in place. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  I crash my lips against his, thrusting my tongue into his mouth in one quick motion. If our last kiss was an explosive culmination of years of unrequited need, this one is like a bomb going off, leveling everything in sight, just leaving him, me, and this insane craving filling my blood.

  Determined hands grip my waist, yanking me on top of him. My legs fall on either side of his, a gasp sucked from my lungs when I feel how much he aches for me. I circle my hips, and he tugs me harder against him. Chest to heaving chest. Heart to racing heart. His tongue penetrates me with more frenzy, more violence, more conviction to kiss me in a way that would ruin me for all kisses to come after this one.

  A fire to submit to all of him burns deep, the myriad of reasons this is a bad idea going up in smoke. My hands go to his chest, finding the buttons of his shirt, fumbling with them as I desperately try to rid him of his clothes. He moans when my fingers dig into his chest, nails scraping before I reach for the hem of my shirt.

  “Shit. Wait.” He tears away and grabs my wrists, preventing me from going any further. Conflicted eyes search mine, as if I hold the answer he so desperately needs. I suppose I do. A second passes. Then another. And another. Then he exhales, shaking his head, his shoulders falling. “We can’t do this.”

  Those four words are the equivalent of a bucket of cold water being tossed over me. Actually, it’s worse. I did the Ice Bucket Challenge all those years ago. The chill that covered me then was nothing compared to this.

  I scramble off him, shooting to my feet. “We can’t do this?” I shriek, hugging my arms around my stomach. “You have no problem feeling me up and practically tongue fucking my mouth, but the second I try to take things to the next level, you decide you want nothing to do with me?”

  “It’s not like that, Izzy.” He stands, advancing toward me, but I back up, my heart squeezing, my cheeks burning with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

  “It’s not like what?” I’ve officially reached my breaking point of the internal tug-of-war he’s been playing. “You’ve been hot and cold all afternoon. Hell, even last night. One second, you admire me like no man in my life ever has. The next, you push me away. It’s fucked with my mind.”

  He parts his lips to argue, but I hold up my hand, preventing him from uttering a single syllable.

  “Believe me, I understand your trepidation. Don’t you think I have that little ball of guilt in my stomach, too? Because I do. But this feeling in my heart is so much stronger.” I draw in a deep breath, struggling to speak through the lump in my throat. “I thought it wasn’t one-sided. Apparently I was wrong.”

  “You know that’s not true.” He advances, brows creased, eyes still clouded with turmoil. “I just—”

  “Don’t.” I step back. “I don’t need you to placate me with excuses. I misread the signs. I always—”

  “You’ve been drinking,” he interrupts.

  “So have you,” I accuse.

  He narrows his gaze, his expression borderline condescending. At least it seems that way after his rejection. “Not as much as you. My judgment isn’t compromised.”

  “And you think mine is?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. But I can’t have that on my conscience. I refuse to take advantage of you.”

  I blow out a sarcastic laugh. “Sure. You had no problem ‘taking advantage’ of me when you were kissing me.”

  “Izzy, that’s not the same thing and you know it. It was just a kiss, nothing more.”

  That bucket of cold water he threw on me earlier has now turned to ice, his words shattering my heart. “I see,” I struggle to say.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I—”

  “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain. It was just a k
iss.” I swallow hard. “Nothing more.” Doing my best to make it appear as if his rejection has little effect on me, I turn from him, heading toward the house.

  “Izzy, wait.”

  I glance over my shoulder, his eyes pleading with me to understand. And I do. From the beginning, I knew we were playing with fire. I didn’t realize how much it would burn.

  “Thanks for letting us crash here. Hopefully the power comes back on soon and we’ll be out of your hair.” I offer him a tight-lipped smile. “Good luck. I have no doubt all your dreams will come true.”

  Ignoring his further pleas, I continue into the house, shining the flashlight of my phone in front of me, illuminating the path. I don’t even raise my eyes to acknowledge Lincoln as he passes me on his way back outside, much to my surprise.

  Safe in my room, I release a breath, falling onto the bed. I lay awake for hours, listening to the gentle sound of Asher playing guitar on the patio, holding out hope he’ll come rap on my door and tell me he’s willing to take a risk.

  He never does.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I should have no problem sleeping. I’m now going on almost forty-eight hours with minimal rest. While my body may be exhausted, my mind is not, too preoccupied with the wild swings of Asher’s attitude toward me, culminating in his final rejection. I had plenty of warning it would end like this, given the constant push and pull. I just thought we were past that. Or I hoped we were.

  In an attempt to shake off this spell Asher seems to have cast over me, I toss the covers off and step out of bed. I grab a pair of yoga pants out of my bag, slide them up my legs, adjust my tank, then walk out of my room.

  The flashlight of my phone illuminating the path in front of me, I pad down the corridor, descending the stairs to the main level. The house is still, peaceful, as it should be at three in the morning.