Page 91 of Lost & Found

“Okay, but the game nights. Tell us—how does the dice work?”

“That depends on which ones Kinsley sent,” I replied. “One set only uses two dice. One lists actions, the other body parts. You roll something like ‘kiss’ and ‘neck’ or ‘lick’ and…well you get the picture,” I paused, “It’s more foreplay. Meant to build.”

Reggie nodded. “Okay. That I understand.”

“The other set,” I continued, “has more dice. Actions, positions. Locations. That one’s meant for two people who are…comfortable with one another.”

“And the deck of cards?” Reggie asked.

“Again, depends how naughty Kinsley was feeling. Some decks are harmless—question, preferences, this or that. Others dig deeper. Boundaries and fantasies. Ways to explore kinks.”

Chase shook his head. “Sounds embarrassing to do that as a group.”

I chuckled. But the truth was—for me anyway—those nights with them changed something in me. The first time I’d played, I was nervous. But every question, every turn peeled back layers, exposing how little I actually understood about connection.

Game nights weren’t just about sex. They were about honesty. About saying what you wanted. About admitting what didn’t serve you. It was where I first realized Hannah and I weren’t aligned at all.

She laughed things off. Deflected. Turned serious questions into sarcasm. When the cards dug into trust and vulnerability, she shut down. And everyone in the room noticed. I leaned back against the brick storefront and let my gaze drift toward the bookstore window.

Isabella stood near a shelf, animated talking to Shelia this time. She gestured with her hands, eyes bright. Even from here, I could see the spark in her. If she ever let herself fully relax into something like game night…If she ever trusted someone enough to let go—she’d be devastating.

Her curiosity would get the better of her, and the hunger she tried to hide would show. And whoever earned that level of trust from her would be striking pure gold. It would be some other man. Not me.

Some future version of my princess with someone else’s hands on her waist. Her nipples on his chest. Someone else earning her softness. Her fire, her moans. My jaw tightened as anger pulsed through me.

I had no business drifting into that territory. I had no claim on her or any rights to those moments. And yet—the idea of anyone unlocking her like that didn’t sit well at all.

“I heard from Hannah that you guys have non-partner nights. How does that work?” Trent asked.

My cheek twitched. Of course she told him that. I’m sure the story was only partially true. Heat crawled up the back of my neck, but I kept my expression neutral. Getting defensive would only confirm whatever narrative she’d spun. Marcel taught me that.

How did you explain the complexity of our crew to people who thought intimacy only fit inside a box? What happened on game nights didn’t bleed into real life. It wasn’t a free for all. It wasn’t betrayal either. It was controlled. Agreed upon and completely structured. Truth was—they’d lose their minds if they understood the full extent of it.

“Not nearly as tantalizing as you’re imagining,” I said. A lie, but a strategic one. “But yes. Some nights partners aren’t designated. No one is locked in. No one does anything they don’t explicitly want to.”

Reggie shifted. “Shelia mentioned that the last time Hannah and you attended, Kinsley stripped and gave a lap dance. And not to her partner for the night.”

He conveniently left out that it had been for me. My head snapped in his direction. I had to work hard to keep the anger from showing, but enough tension radiated from my stare that he understood the warning. He was getting close to crossing a line.

“Is it true?” Trent pressed.

All eyes were on me. And in them I saw the judgment, the curiosity, and the weighing of my new life. I chose my words carefully.

“Yes,” I said. “But her partners were there. Watching and participating. It wasn’t a secret dance, done in some back room with the lights low.”

“Excuse me,” Trent said, brows lifting. “Did you say partners. As in plural? I thought Hannah was exaggerating.”

“Oh, I’m sure she exaggerates plenty,” I replied. “But she wasn’t about that. Look, I’ve danced sensually with Kinsley a thousand times over.”

Chase let out another low whistle. “I would not be okay with Lisa dancing like that with another man.”

“Really? That’s funny. I’ve seen you perform with other women before.”

“But a lap dance is different. More sensual, right? Especially if she was naked while giving it,” Trent said, coming to Chase’s defense.

“She wasn’t completely nude,” I corrected. “She was wearing panties. And one of her partners considers it foreplay.” I held his gaze a second longer than necessary. “Do with that what you will.”

Silence stretched. And in that pause, I realized something uncomfortable. They weren’t just curious. They were judging. And part of me didn’t care. But another part—the part that was protective of Kinsley—didn’t like the direction this conversation was heading.