Home > Bedroom Games (Games #4)(16)

Bedroom Games (Games #4)(16)
Author: Jill Myles, Jessica

“Good idea,” I enthused.

“So…this is a big move. You’re with me? If we put up Marla and Jendan, you’ll vote Marla?”

“I would if the house was going to,” I told him. “I don’t want to go out on my own and then have her coming for me if she survives the vote.”

“Oh, it’ll go that way,” he said. “You watch and see.” He leaned back on the couches. “And this conversation between you and me? Never happened.”

“Got it.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “One word of this getting out, little missy, and I will deny all of it. I’ll just tell them you’re starting trouble to save your hide and make sure your ass is booted out the door as quickly as possible. You get me?”

Oh, I get you, I thought. I got all of it on tape, a**hole. “I understand. You can trust me.”

“I know I can,” he said, chuckling. “Because your back’s against a wall. You’ve got no options but me.”

I smiled faintly. Just you wait.

~~ * ~~

The drunken revelries went on until late. I tried to nap in the Queen room, but being by myself was more creepy than comforting. The house was spooky as hell, and I kept noticing shadows. On top of that were the drunken hoots and catcalls coming from the kitchen area as the ‘winners’ of the reward challenge played every drinking game known to mankind and tried to pickle their livers.

I was anxiously waiting for them to head to bed so I could sneak out on the porch and retrieve my tape recorder. That thing held the key to me squeezing another week out of this game. I just had to be careful who I shared it with. Jayme and Fido were an obvious choice, but I didn’t know them as well as I knew Marla and Jendan. And since Casper intended to split Marla and Jendan, it seemed smartest to go to them first and make them do the dirty work.

I could sit back and watch as the other teams cannibalized each other, all thanks to my tape.

I just had to retrieve it first.

The wooden floor boards of the room creaked, and my senses went on alert. The hackles on the back of my neck rose, and I lay quietly in bed, dreading the sounds that would come next: footsteps. Sure enough, slow, methodical footsteps echoed through the room. My breathing rasped, overloud in my ears. How was it the guys never heard these things? The house had to be haunted. That wasn’t my imagination. It was—

A heavy body landed on top of me, and the bed creaked a protest.

“Ooof,” I wheezed as Brodie laughed and rolled over onto the other side of me, landing on the other half of the bed.

“Did I scare you?” he whispered loudly, voice slurred. “Sorryboutthatkandis.”

I smacked his arm with one of the pillows and then tucked it under my head again. “You’re a jerk.”

“Aw,” he said in a disappointed voice. “Why are you always so mean to me?” He was so toasted that the words were barely intelligible. Before I could muster a response, he pulled me against him and buried his face in my cl**vage. “Mmm.”

I gave a squeak of protest, and my eyes widened. I lay in bed, frozen, warring sensations tearing through me. Part of me wanted to shove him away. Part of me really, really wanted to pull him closer and see where drunk Brodie would go with this. My n**ples hardened at the prospect.

“Mmm, Kandis,” he breathed, and he began to rub his face up and down the valley of my br**sts. “You’re the hottest girl in this house, you know?”

“What about Jayme?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Your ass is way better than hers,” he said and reached down to squeeze it. “So tight. I can’t stop staring at it.”

“And Sunnie? You sure didn’t seem to mind her ass,” I sniped, even as his hands continued to run along my body.

“Sunnie is all look but don’t touch.”

That didn’t make sense to me. “Huh?”

He glanced up at me and gave me a dopey, slit-eyed smile. “Wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. She’s got the herp.”

“How do you know that?”

“You ever seen her without that bright red lipstick she likes? It’s cause she’s covering up some mouth sores.” He shook his head. “My dick ain’t going anywhere near that. ‘Sides, she’s kind of dumb, too. She’s not smart like you.” And he rubbed his cheek against one of my br**sts. “Smart and pillowy.”

I pushed his head away, rolling my eyes. Pillowy, my ass. “You’re drunk, Brodie.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said in a mopey voice. “You and me? Ain’t meant to be. You don’t like me.”

I stilled. Where did he get an idea like that? “What makes you think I don’t like you?” Oh God, his mouth was nuzzling at my stomach through my sleep shirt, and it was sending crazy sparks of arousal through my body. When he didn’t answer and just kept rubbing his face against me, I grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head up to look at me. “What makes you think I don’t like you?” I repeated.

He gave me a sad smile. “Cause you’re always frowning at me.”

Was I?

“And because you watched The World Races,” he said, propping his chin on my stomach. “Everyone that watched that hates me.”

“You were kind of a jerk on the show,” I told him.

He shrugged. “Just wanted to win.”

“And make out with a rock star.”

“That too.” He grinned. “You would have done the same.”

Maybe. Maybe not. “I don’t hate you, Brodie. I just don’t trust you.”

“I know,” he said, and he began to push my shirt up, trying to expose my stomach. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, does it?”

I pushed at his hands as he maneuvered my shirt, but my efforts were half-hearted. I wanted this, if I was being honest with myself. A moment later, his tongue dipped and licked my navel. I couldn’t stop the whimper that rose in my throat.

“Would it be so awful to make out with the bad guy, Kandis?” he whispered against my stomach.

“You’re not a bad guy, Brodie,” I told him. I was sounding more breathless by the moment, and I knew I should push him away because there had to be cameras filming us. But I was having a hard time moving away. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I liked his mouth on me.

“I am the villain,” Brodie said and bit at the taut flesh of my stomach, causing me to suck in a breath. “That’s why they put me on this show.” His tongue licked a circle around the edge of my belly button.

I moaned, unable to help myself.

“Wanna make out with a villain?” he offered.

God yes, I thought. “You’re drunk,” I reminded him. “I can’t trust anything you say or do when you’re drunk.”

“So you’ll make out with me if I’m sober?”

“You won’t remember any of this when you’re sober.”

“So let’s make out now,” he said, grinning up at me. “The others are all asleep. I won’t tell.”

All asleep? I glanced at the small clock on the nightstand. Three in the morning. Surely the smoking area would be deserted? I might not have another chance, and I needed that tape desperately. “Can we talk about this later, Brodie?” I slid out of bed. “Just hold that thought, okay?”

“Sure,” he said with a yawn. “Holding that thought.”

I tiptoed out of the room and shut the door behind me and then made my way out to the back door, sliding it open. I winced at every creak and groan, but managed to make my way outside, pocket the recorder, and sneak back to my room without anyone seeing me.

When I returned to the Queen room, Brodie was asleep, sprawled face-down on the bed. His face was soft in the low light of the room, and I moved to cover him with a blanket before I headed to the antique couch on the opposite end of the room to listen to my tape recorder.

Even as I rewound the tape, I glanced over at Brodie. Would he remember what he said to me tonight? Or would it be lost with the morning hangover? I certainly didn’t need a romantic complication in the game, not if they were already targeting couples. And certainly not if one half of that potential romantic complication was notorious Brodie Short, the villain of last season’s World Races. People would think I was an idiot for hooking up with him.

Heck, I’d probably think the same thing about myself. How could I possibly trust a man that used people to push himself ahead? So far, he hadn’t gone against me, but the proof was in every episode of The World Races from a few months ago. He’d screwed over his own sister in that game—and turned around and hosed her again in this game.

Brodie couldn’t be trusted.

It was just a shame I liked him so much. Why couldn’t I be all fluttery and distracted over Jendan? He was trustworthy, handsome, strong, and he always had my back. Brodie hit on all the women, wasn’t trustworthy, and probably didn’t have my back.

My taste in men needed a tune-up, that was for sure. I lifted the recorder to my ear and began to listen.

~~ * ~~

“Toast please,” Sunnie whispered as she came into the kitchen and promptly bent over the granite countertop, laying her head on the counter. “I think I’m going to barf. Again.”

I shot her an amused look and dropped two more pieces of bread into the toaster. One by one, the house guests had trickled into the kitchen late in the morning, hung over and needing toast. Since we didn’t have TV, this was the closest thing to entertainment we had, and I’d parked by the toaster with a cup of coffee to watch the show. “How’s your head?” I asked sweetly.

She just moaned and squinted at the fluorescent lights overhead.

“That good, eh?” I swung my feet, thinking. “Sure would suck if we had a Power challenge today, wouldn’t it?”

Her red eyes widened at the thought. “You don’t think they would, do you?”

Man, I sure hoped they would. I didn’t say that, of course. I simply plucked the toast from the toaster, put the slices on a plate, and brought it over to her. “Considering that they gave you the alcohol, I don’t think they would, unless they’re going for comedic effect.”

Sunnie picked up a square of toast and nibbled on the corner. She immediately turned green and bolted for the bathroom.

I watched her go. “Yeah, or maybe not,” I said to myself. “Not much of a challenge if six people are busy puking their guts out while the other two run wild.”

I hummed to myself as I cleaned up the kitchen, my mood terrific. The tape recorder was in the pocket of my jeans, and I was just waiting for Marla and Jendan to sober up so we could talk strategy. My partner needed to sober up, too, though he was currently sawing logs in our bed.

As time passed and no one seemed in any particular hurry to wake up, I started to get a little more nervous. My plan wouldn’t work if I didn’t have time to put it into action. Deciding to take the bull by the horns, I went into the attic room to visit Marla and Jendan. They were both still in bed, pillows stuffed over their faces.

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