This Wasn't in the Floor Plan

She said guess. Guess where I want to be kissed.

My brain short-circuited. That's a trap. That's definitely a trap.

But I can't let her know how much that word alone wrecked me. So I kept my voice low, casual—"Guess, huh?"—like I'm just playing along, like I'm not already burning up inside.

She didn't turn around, and that drove me insane. She was just sitting there in that chair, completely still, completely silent—like she knew exactly the effect she was having.

My palms felt damp against my jeans. My heartbeat was a heavy thud way up in my throat. I hesitated for half a second...

And then I moved.

I crouched beside her chair slowly, breath catching the second I got close enough to see the curve of her neck, her shoulder, the way her skin peeked out from under the collar of her blouse. My fingers twitched. I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have.

But I did anyway.

I slipped my fingers under the fabric just barely and leaned in—God—pressing my lips right where her neck met her back. A soft kiss. Careful. Slow. Too slow. My whole chest felt tight, like I'd just done something dangerous.

And then she shuddered. A tiny, involuntary tremor that ran right through her, right into me through my fingertips still resting near her shoulder.

I swear I almost lost it right there.

"Do you still want to play?" I whispered, pretending I was in control.

She tried to answer, but what came out was closer to a sound I shouldn't have heard from her. My blood rushed. I laughed, cocky on the outside but losing my mind on the inside. I walked away before I did something stupid like drag her into my lap.

I flopped on the bed like I was chill. I was not chill.

She said "Fine," and I pretended to stretch, but really I was praying she hadn't heard how hard I swallowed.

Round four started. I was distracted. I made one mistake, then two. She was going for blood this time. I saw it in her eyes. And just like that—Game Over.

She won. Easily.

"NOOO," I groaned, flopping dramatically backward because I needed to hide the expression on my face. Because I knew what came next.

Punishment. Her dare.

"Oh, you are," she said, and her voice alone made my chest tighten.

Then I heard her push her chair back. Heard her footsteps walking over. Slow. Deliberate.

She climbed onto the bed.

Climbed. On. Top. Of. Me.

I actually stopped breathing. My body went completely rigid beneath her.

Her knees pressed into the bed beside my hips, effectively pinning me. And I was suddenly so aware of everything. The faint scent of her shampoo again. The heat of her body above mine. The slight creak of the mattress adjusting to her weight. Her smirk. The dangerous, triumphant smirk playing on her lips as she looked down at me.

"You're not allowed to touch me," she whispered, face so close it was torture.

And I actually whimpered. Whimpered, like some desperate teenager. I gripped the sheets at my sides just to keep from grabbing her waist.

She leaned down further, brushing one deliberately slow finger down the center of my chest, over the thin fabric of my shirt. Everywhere she touched ignited. "If you move..." she whispered, her finger tracing lower, towards my belt buckle, "...you lose again. Understand?"