
“You’re mocking me,” I moaned, pulling away to face the manicured green of the thirteenth hole and the lush rolling tree line beyond the course. Clots of greenish clouds churned overhead, ready to turn to rain again any second.
“You’re too clothed to be taken seriously,” Mike said, pulling my attention back indoors and my body back to his. He tugged at the tight black turtleneck I was still wearing. “Aren’t you the one who suggested the rule?” he teased, kissing my neck between each word. “Total. Naked. Honesty?”
I rolled my eyes but grinned as I pulled my shirt over my head. The room was cool, and I felt the prick of goose bumps rise along my arms. I stretched out diagonally across the king-size waterbed in my lucky black-bra-and-underwear set, then rolled over onto my stomach so Mike would have to climb on top of me to find a spot.
“Honesty later,” I said, gesturing at my neck. “Kneading now. I’ve got a knot the size of Georgia right. . yes, there.”
Mike had stripped down to his tartan boxers and assumed the masseur position over me. I let myself close my eyes and really breathe for the first time all day.
After finding out from Tracy how close we were to certain victory, I’d fidgeted through the rest of my classes, getting more and more anxious to plot something to ensure our win. By now, it was all I could think about. But there was something about Mike’s hands on my neck, how powerful and strong they were. They made me let everything go.
I remembered the first time I’d seen his hands — strong, tan, gripping a baseball bat, definitely a force to be reckoned with. Since Mike’s bedroom overlooked the ritzy Scot’s Glen golf club, where kids from the other side of town — the wrong side of town — got their kicks by sneaking onto the course to chuck golf balls at the mansions. Totally adolescent, yes, but it’s not like there was much to entertain a trailer-park kid on the Cawdor side of the bridge. It was part of the fun that the rich kids kept arsenals by their back doors to chase off the vandalizing have-nots.
