The Lineup(35)

Smacking his hands together, he rubs them and says, “Okay, let’s go for actor last names now. I’ll start. Aniston.”

This is what my life has come to.

“Aniston, Bullock.”

“Aniston, Bullock, Cox,” he replies.

I lift up to look at him. “Are you just going to list off cast members from Friends?”

“Shh.” He waves his hand at me and then presses his fingers to his temples, massaging his skull. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

Good . . . God.





“H.”

“Nooope,” Jason drags out, a smart-ass look on his face. “One more leg and you’ve been hanged, milady.”

I can NOT believe I’m losing to Jason at hangman. Not just losing but losing terribly. We’re talking ten games deep, and he’s won every single one of them. When he initially suggested the game, I thought, sure, why not? This will be easy. He acts like an immature frat boy with the IQ of a pigeon despite majoring in engineering, so all I’ll have to do is guess different sexual organs and it will be money in the bag.

But here I am, one leg away from losing once again, which means if he wins all ten games, I have to take my shirt off as well.

Stupid bet, but I really didn’t think he could sweep me.

Think, Domico, think.

Blank, U, M, blank, S, blank, U, blank, blank.

Yup.

I’m screwed.

I tap my chin, really pretending to put some though into it. “Let’s go with Y.”

“I’m sorry to do this because you’re pretty, but the noose is coming for you.” He adds the last leg and then draws two X’s where the eyes should be and a squiggle mouth, indicating death.

“Ugh, what is it?”

He fills in the blanks and I read the word out loud, “Numbskull.”

“Yup.” He bops my nose with the pen and says, “That’s exactly what you are, a numbskull.” His laugh does nothing but make me madder. He motions to my shirt. “Show me the goods. A bet is a bet.”

“You realize when I take my shirt off, you’re going to regret it, right?”

“Pretty sure I won’t.”

“You will when I start playing with my tits and jiggling them. Pinching my nipples, moaning from the sensation . . .”

“Yeah, I won’t regret that.”

“You will when you get hard and you can’t do anything about it.”

He laughs and motions with the pen to take my shirt off. “It’s funny how you think I have no issue jacking off right here, right now. I have zero modesty, Dorothy, so I would watch what you do with those tits.”

I should have expected that. With a resigned sigh, I take my shirt off and watch Jason nod in appreciation. He takes my breasts in, long and hard, never blinking, just observing until he gives me one curt nod and says, “They’ll do.”

He’s such an ass.





“Heads.”

“Tails. Ha HA!” Jason clasps the quarter in his fist and raises it to the elevator. “Pants, Domico.”

“You didn’t flip it right,” I counter, not wanting to lose my pants. I’m wearing a thong and sitting in an elevator in only a thong and bra doesn’t really scream good time to me.

I also didn’t think I’d be this terrible at heads or tails. Who loses twelve times in a row? It’s like there is some magnetic force controlling the elevator, blocking me from winning any ridiculous game I play with Jason.

“What do you mean I didn’t flip it right? I flipped it in the air, it turned multiple times, I caught it and then flipped it on the back of my hand. Standard heads or tails rules.”

“You have a trick quarter.”

“It was from your purse.”

Valid point.

“Ugh, fine. But I’m warning you, don’t consider this an invitation to gawk at me.”

“Oh, like you haven’t been gawking at me this entire time. And don’t you even try to deny it. I see the way you look at my stomach, lust and desire swimming in your eyes.”

“Oh, get over yourself. You’re delirious and exhausted.”

“Either way, you want me,” he says with a pant-load of confidence.

Grumbling to myself, I take off my pants and sit on top of them so my bare ass isn’t on the elevator floor. Thank God this is a really, really nice building because if Emory and Knox lived in a pit of an apartment, there is no way I’d follow through on my bet.

Jason scans my side and then the other, observing my choice of underwear. “Are you wearing a thong?”

“Yes.”

“Stand up so I can make the final assessment on that.”

“It’s a thong,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, but I should still see.”

“Bite me,” I answer back.

“Where?” He wickedly grins.

“Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you, getting a chance to bite me wherever you want?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “I’m bored. Let’s make things interesting.” He rubs his hands together. “Where do you want my mouth?”

If he wants to bite me, he can bite me all right.

I lift up my shoeless right foot and wiggle my toes at him. “Mr. Big Toe wants some attention.”