Page 694 of End Game

“My action,” I mutter.

His eyes darken.

Micah lets me close the distance, then kisses me like he's been waiting through three other turns to do it.

Which, apparently, he has.

My mouth opens.

His tongue slides over mine.

Somewhere across the table, Cami sighs.

Ronan says, “Time.”

Micah pulls away.

I do not.

His hand closes around my chin before I can follow. “Behave.”

Fuck.

I sit back.

Ronan puts another inspiration bead in front of Micah.

“This game is fucking rigged.”

“Correct,” Ronan says.

Everyone laughs.

Phase one lasts three rounds.

By the end of it, I am shirtless and barefoot.

Micah has lost his hoodie and shirt.

Cami is down to bra and jeans because Griffin somehow keeps rolling like the dice have decided marriage is a combat buff.

Griffin has lost his shirt because Cami rolled high enough to remove it herself, which does not violate his target pool and spiritually feels like a gift to the entire room.

I tell him that.

He tells me to go fuck myself.

I ask Ronan if that counts as a declared action.

Ronan tells me no.

Micah gets one hand down the front of my jeans for exactly forty-five seconds after drawing GENITALS from his body-zone deck, then Ronan calls time while I'm actively trying not to hump his palm.

Cami draws CHEST while touching Griffin and uses her entire turn to drag her mouth over his pecs and bite his nipple.

Griffin almost comes out of the chair.

I laugh so hard I lose my next roll.