“No touching at all?” I asked.
“None,” Dean said as he unfolded the Scrabble board and put it on the coffee table.
“Not even a kiss?”
“Nope.”
I tossed a few leaves into the trash and approached him. He looked adorably serious as he turned the Scrabble tiles upside down and placed the racks on either side of the board.
The sleeves of his white T-shirt had ridden up far enough to expose his biceps, and a swath of hair flopped over his forehead.
“I’m not sure I like these rules,” I remarked.
“You don’t want to play, then?” Dean asked.
“Oh, I want to play.”
His gaze jerked to mine at the suggestive note in my voice. I smiled and sank onto the floor opposite him, tucking my legs beneath my skirt.
We were two months into our relationship, and while we’d done some sexy things with our clothes on, including a lot of kissing, we had yet to see each other completely naked. It was a revelation for me—the slow, easy pace of our intimacy, the fact that we spent much of our time just being together, the sheer pleasure of our heightened anticipation.
“You go first.” Dean nodded at the Scrabble box. “Whoever scores below five points loses that round. You also lose if you have to skip a turn.”
“Remember—only modern English words,” I told him as we picked our tiles. “No Latin, no Greek. No ye olde this or that.”
I spelled out the word LOAF, then Dean used the F to make FORK. He wrote down the scores on a pad of paper.
“Seven for you, thirteen for me with the triple-letter score,” he said. “So close.”
I spelled LID and picked out more tiles. Dean spelled KNAWE.
“Oh, dude.” I sat back. “Major challenge.”
“Go ahead.” He nodded toward the thick dictionary on the sofa.
I thumbed to the K section and ran my finger down the page. “‘A low-growing, weedy Eurasian annual with narrow leaves and inconspicuous flowers’? Are you freaking kidding me?”
“You’re the one who’s supposed to know about plants.”
“No one knows about weedy Eurasian annuals.”
“I do.”
“Of course you do, smartass.” Disgruntled, I put the dictionary aside.
He flashed me his you-know-you-like-me grin. My belly fluttered with warmth.
Dean wrote our scores on the notepad. “Twenty-four with the double-word score. You have a double-letter score, so four for you.” Wicked anticipation flared in his expression as he looked at me. “You know what that means.”
My heartbeat sped up. I briefly considered plunging right into the deep end, but my inherent caution warned me against it. I reached behind my neck and unclipped my necklace, then tossed it on a chair.
Dean frowned. “That doesn’t count.”
“Sure it does.”
“An article of clothing.”
“Accessories are clothing.” I wasn’t entirely certain of that, but I wasn’t about to back down. “Check any fashion magazine.”
Dean scowled, but gestured to the board. “Your turn, then.”
I managed to spell NERD, which squeaked me by with five points thanks to a double-letter square, and then he spelled EAR and was saved with a double-word square. We took more tiles. ROW and TETRAGON (seriously). Then RAT and AXE.
“Three.” Dean looked at me, a wicked glint in his expression. “Go.”
I pulled off the navy cardigan I was wearing over my V-neck shirt and tossed it on the chair. I became rather acutely aware that removing my remaining articles of clothing—my skirt and blouse—would leave me quite exposed.
The game continued. After finally managing only a four-point word, Dean took off a sock. I gave him a mild glare. I’d been hoping he’d pull off his shirt.
I spelled RUN to his TOYS. My breath hitched a little as I eased my hands beneath my skirt to roll my tights down my legs. The burn of Dean’s gaze fired my own arousal, even though I revealed hardly any skin as I pulled the tights off and put them on the chair.
Dean took off his other sock after having to skip a turn to exchange a tile. Then I spelled a four-point word and removed my underwear from beneath my skirt. Dean’s eyes followed the plain white, cotton panties as I tossed them onto the chair. I flushed.
“I don’t… um, I don’t have sexy panties.” I wished I did.
“If you’re wearing them, they’re sexy.” His gaze met mine. “Trust me on that.”
“I trust you with a lot more than that,” I said before I could think.
A brief shadow crossed his features—he knew there were things I hadn’t yet told him—but then it disappeared. “Your turn again, beauty.”
I spelled RING. He spelled SIT for a measly three points. I looked at him, anticipation quickening my blood. Both his socks were off, which meant…
He grasped the hem of his T-shirt and tugged it over his head.