Page 99 of Top Shelf

“Okay, rules,” Lucian says, flattening a crease with his foot. “Someone spins the wheel, and it determines where to put your hand or foot—right hand red, left foot green, that kind of thing. Last one standing wins.”

“He meanssurvives with their joints still in one piece,” Ronan mutters, grabbing the spinner and flopping down into the armchair with a dramatic sigh. “I’m spinning. No way am I getting roped into this Cirque du Sex Position circus.”

Lucian grins. “Coward.”

“I like my spine in one piece,” Ronan shoots back.

Lucian gestures me forward. “Come on, rookie. Time to lose yourTwistervirginity.”

Silas is already stretching off to the side like we’re preparing for war. He rolls his shoulders, then gives me a crooked little smile when I glance his way.What have I gotten myself into?

Toeing off my shoes, I step onto the mat. My socks slide a little against the plastic. “So, what? We just…wait for Ronan to tell us what to do?”

“Basically,” Lucian says, rolling his neck.

“Right, Lucian, since this is your brilliant idea, you can go first,” Ronan declares with a smirk. He spins the dial with an exaggerated flick. “Right hand blue.”

Lucian cracks his neck like he’s gearing up for a championship bout, then drops his hand to the mat with lazy ease, bracing it on a blue circle.

Ronan spins again. “Wren. Left foot yellow.”

I glance down at the mat, spot the nearest yellow circle, and stretch my leg out, planting my foot with a little more care than necessary. My balance wobbles, but I recover.Not a good start.

Of course, my slight imbalance doesn’t go unnoticed. Lucian chuckles. “Oh, you are so going down.”

“Isn’t there some sort of grace for first-timers?” I argue,pushing my bottom lip out in a pout in the hopes that it will sway my case.

It doesn’t. All three of them laugh.

“Not in this house,” Ronan states before spinning again. “Silas. Right foot red.”

Silas steps onto the mat without hesitation, his foot brushing close to mine as he takes his position. I catch his eye, and he offers me a small, knowing smile, one that simmers rather than smirks.

“Lucian. Left foot green.”

For some unknown reason, Lucian chooses the green circle right by me, instead of a nearer, easier one for him to reach. He contorts himself with exaggerated flair, swinging his leg over mine to reach the circle. His thigh ends up pressed against my ass, heat seeping into my skin. I amacutelyaware of how my body reacts to the contact as Ronan calls out my name.

“Right hand blue.”

With my heart rate a little higher than it was before, I stretch toward the most accessible blue circle without toppling over. The motion has my ass pushing firmly into Lucian’s thigh. I can feel the taut muscle of hours upon hours spent on the ice and in the gym, hard and unrelenting against my soft flesh. My cheeks heat, picturing those thighs squeezing either side of my hips, Lucian’s tall, delectable body leaning over mine as he pushes me into a mattress.

Not the time!

Bent over, my gaze snags on Lucian’s. Like he knows exactly where my mind has gone, he smirks knowingly, flashing me a filthy wink that has me clenching my thighs and closing my eyes in utter embarrassment.

He barks a laugh as Ronan calls out, “Silas. Left hand red.”

The mat we are on seems to shrink in size as Silas moves. All three of us are bent over, stretched across the mat. Skintouches skin, and all I can think is how I wouldn’t mind if we all collapsed into a dogpile. I don’t know ifTwisteris intentionally a dirty game, but it is certainly evoking thoughts I haven’t had in…eons.

Silas’s chest brushes the back of my arm, his breath warming my shoulder as his fingers splay beside mine on the mat. His pinky brushes my skin deliberately in a silent little tease.

My pulse skyrockets.

There’s no way I’m making it out of this game alive.

With another shift of his lean, athletic body, Lucian’s shirt slips up, the hem coming free from his waistband to reveal a strip of golden skin and the sharp dip of his V-line. The edge of his moth tattoo peeks out from under the fabric—dark ink against tight muscle. And he’s so close, his abs right in my eyeline, inches from my face. The warmth of his and Silas’s bodies radiates over me, messing with my head and making me short of breath.

I have no idea how I’ve managed to get myself in such a compromising position with these men. Each one of them is a masterpiece sculpted from stone, with lips of poison and emanating a heat that leaves me wanting to strip down to my underwear.