He reached into the cooler and wrapped his hand around the neck of another bottle. The glass, cold and dewy from the melting ice, chilled his fingers as he twisted off the cap. Trisha still had a little less than half a bottle left, but as buzzed as she already was, she wouldn’t back down from a challenge. “That one is probably hot by now.” Ken pointed to Trisha’s half-drank beer, throwing down the gauntlet. Trisha’s nose scrunched as she looked at the bottle. He had her—she was too proud to waste booze.
Alcohol abuse—Trisha’s term for when perfectly good beer or liquor was spilled or discarded. Without even looking at how much she had left, she mouthed the rim, turning the bottle over and gulping down all that remained inside before accepting the one he was offering to the tune of Tommy whistling through his teeth and pounding a drum roll on the coffee table with his bare hands. Ken smiled to himself. Excellent—he would have no trouble manipulating the win for Tommy now.
Everyone took their turns, bantering, and trash-talking as they drew and discarded. Soon Trisha was halfway through her new brew and barely focusing on the game. Unfortunately, she seemed far too intrigued by the protrusion in Tommy’s underwear. Ken’s gaze skimmed her lower body. The shorts he lent her were riding up on her long legs, exposing her soft flesh nearly all the way up to her hip. He ached with the rhythmic pounding of his heart knocking against his chest as if someone was playing the xylophone with a sledgehammer. Attempting to regain his concentration, he banged a fist against his chest as if settling heartburn after a greasy meal while giving himself a mental pep talk. Get it together. You have to get that damn shirt out of the way.
“You folding, Ken?” Tommy smirked.
Could he be any more obvious? Ken hoped Tommy wasn’t being overconfident. “Not a chance,” he bluffed. His pair of queens was unlikely to beat what his best buddy was gloating over. “How about you?”
“Nah, I think I’ll stay in.” Tommy grinned. “Trisha?”
She frowned. “Whatever, let’s just lay them down.”
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Tommy chuckled. As Trisha cracked a smile, a light blush brightened her pretty face. Ken’s stomach simmered with anxiety and his neck and shoulders tensed. Why can’t I be the one capturing her attention? Tommy had the advantage of being funny. Humor wasn’t Ken’s thing...at least not intentional humor.
Trisha showed her hand. “Straight.”
Sticking his tongue out, Ken raspberried his cards, folding his lousy hand. “I’m out.” His breath hitched and his pulse raced. He couldn’t handle a buck-naked Tommy right now. Please win, dumbass...please win.
Tommy laid his hand down deliberately slow, allowing Trisha a chance to groan before he gloated. “All I have is a royal flush.”
“Ugh! You’re a royal flush!” Trisha stuck out her lips in another of her precious pouts as she complained. Silently, Ken stood, removing his shorts to reveal his gray, boxer briefs. He shivered as Trisha followed, standing a foot away, her cheeks flushing as she unrolled the turned-over waistband and pulled the string of his shorts. Shit!I thought she would shed the undershirt first. His breath caught in his throat as he watched. He licked his lips as she scooted the shorts down at a snail’s pace before allowing the bottoms to fall and pool around her narrow feet. Gripping the hem of Tommy’s tank top with both fists, she pulled the undershirt down like an incredibly short dress. Her high cheekbones resembled two cherry tomatoes now. Should I remind her that this was all her idea?
Trisha dropped down to sit on her knees, strategically placing her top to cover most of her rear while the hem settled far enough down her café mocha thighs to cover the sweet triangle between them. She averted her eyes, looking down at the cards that had betrayed her. Sexy, blonde, spiral curls framed her super cute, bashful expression while the outline of her hardened peaks jutted out beneath Tommy’s shirt as the ribbed material clung to their form. Uncharacteristically still, Trisha had to keep her arms glued to her sides or the T-back undershirt’s large armholes would leave her breasts completely exposed. Ken suppressed the sigh hung in the back of his throat. When the shorts came down, he had been so focused on her toned and tanned stems he missed out on a quick gander at her short and curlies before she covered them.
Ken’s underwear felt considerably more constrictive when he sat back down on the floor beside Trisha and across from Tommy. Peeking down, he noticed the embarrassing bulge straining the fabric. Tommy was sporting wood too, so he had no room to criticize, but Ken worried about what Trisha thought of their obvious lust. Maybe I should place my hands in my lap? No, trying to cover up would draw more attention.
Fuck it, maybe I should take a different approach and stoke the fire. I might never have another opportunity like this one. While dragging his line of vision downward, his gaze settled on the thin piece of material separating his eyes from her pussy. Try as he might, he couldn’t see between her legs, but Tommy’s wife-beater wasn’t long enough to shield all of her plump ass from him. As nonchalantly as he could, he inclined his head to gawk at the
