AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That I’m perfectly imperfect and don’t play by the rules.”
“I’d say that hits the nail on the head.”
I dust off my hands and seal up the Oreo package because I may not play by the rules, but I refuse to let these cookies go stale.
“It’s Twister time.”
* * *
I’m spreading out the Twister mat in the living room when Griffin appears in a t-shirt and athletic shorts. I’d tease him for changing out of his clothes but I did the same, swapping out my skirt and tank top for a sports bra and leggings.
I lunge back and forth, warming up my hamstrings. They’re tight and not in a good way, and something tells me I’m going to need to get limber for this.
“This looks serious,” he says, eyeing me.
“Twister is a serious game,” I tease, releasing my quad stretch. “Help me move the sofa.”
Griffin doesn’t help, he does it himself, his biceps bulging against the sleeves of his shirt as he lifts, then places my parents’ sofa a few feet away.
“With two players, one calls out the body part, the other one picks the color, then we switch. We’re supposed to start with one foot on yellow, one foot on blue,” I read out.
Griffin moves to the opposite end of the mat and does as I’ve instructed. But then he reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up over his head.
I can only stand there and gape at him and all the glorious muscle he just revealed.
I’ve seen him without a shirt before, most recently this past weekend in my closet. Now, under the optimal lighting of my parents’ living room, every muscle is defined, every shadow and contour evident. The weight of his hands on his hips pulls at the waistband of his shorts, exposing more smooth skin and those deep Vs of muscle, I feel like he’s messing with me.
Or this is retribution for me beating him at Yahtzee, multiple times.
As we start, Griffin calling out the body part, right foot, while I choose the color, red, it’s clear by the grin on his face that he’s got a strategy.
It only takes a couple of minutes for us to get completely tangled up. And that’s when I learn that Griffin is the worst person to play Twister with. His long legs can easily stretch across the mat, and his broad shoulders make it difficult to reach around him, making the circles I need to access hard to reach.
“I take it you weren’t a gymnast,” he comments.
I look under my armpit to find Griffin smirking at the way I’m positioned. Despite the yoga outfit I’m in, my body is not known for its ability to bend. My hips and hamstrings are tight from sitting while I work, and while I’ve kept in shape with walking and tennis, after a match, I have a propensity for hitting the snack bar instead of the stretching mats.
“You’re not exactly Gumby yourself,” I retort.
He chuckles. “I forgot about that show.”
“It’s a classic. And speaking of classics, right now, I need a go-go-gadget arm to reach around your butt.”
I had no idea Twister was an actual work out. I’m sweating. I can feel the bead of perspiration rolling between my boobs. My arms are shaking and I don’t know how much longer I can hold myself up, let alone change positions.
“Left hand,” Griffin announces.
I look around, analyzing my best option for color choice.
“Blue,” I say. “Oh, thank God.” My hands are now closer together, giving me a reprieve from the wide-armed position I had been in. I try to ignore the fact that Griffin is right behind me, his face only inches from my butt. “Sorry my butt is in your face.”
“I don’t mind. I like your ass.”
I like the way he says ass. A bit rough, and a lot sexy.
“Yeah?” I gulp, his words causing a ripple of lust to shake my core.
“I love everything about your body,” he growls near my ear.
