Page 64 of Bridesmaid for Hire
I get closer to him and press my hand to his pec as I whisper, “My job is at stake too. You’re not the only one floundering right now.”
“You can’t sleep your way into the family,” he says.
And that makes my nostrils flare. I run my thumb over his nipple, desperately wanting to pluck it off his chest. “Why would I possibly want to do that when I have such an antagonistic anus inmybed?”
And I leave it at that, because how dare he even question me?
“To the right,” Brody says as my chest presses against his back, my arms under his and in front of him. I’m blindfolded and he’s unable to help me other than tell me what to do and where to move.
The goal: to finish the bowl of whipped cream with the least amount of mess. Communication with your teammate is key. The team with the smallest mess and to finish first wins the most points.
My goal…to piss Brody off as much as possible by missing his mouth and smearing the whipped cream all over his face.
But he started this.
Remember that when you’re thinking about him, his gorgeous smile, his impeccable abs, and his charming wit. He was the one who accused ME—me of all people—of flirting with other men in front of him. It’s called, having a conversation, Brody. Try it.
He’s the one who teased me last night.
He’s the one who left me aroused and ready for a romp without an explanation at my brother’s wedding.
Okay, don’t forget that. Don’t forget the wrongs he’s tallied at this point.
And just to remind you as well, he’s the one who crashed my bungalow, making a disaster of it with his unkempt suitcase and toiletries.
We women must band together.Boo to Brody. Yay to Maggie.
Now, back to the whipped cream.
“Yes, Maggie, right there,” he says, sounding like I’m tickling his perineum in just the right spot. “Yup, just go straight.”
Smiling behind him, I move my hand straight and then just at the last moment, when I feel the heat of his mouth, I divert to the right and smear the whipped cream across his cheek.
“Oops, was that another miss?” I ask, trying to hold back the laughter in my voice.
His body tenses, and I can feel him taking a few deep breaths instead of snapping at me. At least good on him for controlling his temper. Maybe he learned something after accusing me of wanting to sleep around.
Ass.
“Thirty seconds left,” Reginald calls out.
“Think we can get another one?” I ask.
“If you’re not a dick about it,” he mutters.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” I scoop some more whipped cream out of the bowl and bring it up to his face. “Where do I go? Left? Right? Lower?”
“Like you really care.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” I say as I bring my hand up to what I assume is his forehead and smear it all over him. “Oh no, I think I missed again,” I mumble, trying to hold back my chuckle.
“Time’s up,” Reginald calls out.
I release myself from him and lean forward, lifting my blindfold to get a look at him.
Sitting there, with an adult bib over his chest, is Brody with a face covered in whipped cream. Hairline, eyebrows, eyelashes, scruff. It’s all covered in white, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.And how I wish I could capture this on my camera.It would be worth money someday.
“Oh goodness.” I cover my mouth. “I think you need to work on your communication, Brody. I don’t think we got one good handful in your mouth.”
