Brazen Ivy, page 9
I shook my head. “Not a thing.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured me.
“I’m not.” I flashed him a smile, so he’d know he held my complete faith.
“Okay, I want you to take five steps forward.”
I followed his directions and stopped after counting to five.
“Now two more. I needed to learn your pace and stride.”
I took two more.
“Perfect,” he praised.
After his compliment, I shook out my arms like a swimmer. I hadn’t realized how vulnerable I’d be without sight. How I’d have to put everything of myself into his hands. His words. For the next fifteen minutes I leaned on his steady voice to guide me. I began to anticipate his next instruction, waiting for his charge and his approval.
Graham’s composed approach to his responsibility of keeping me safe held me calm. Even though I shuddered at the idea of being blindfolded, that hadn’t compared to traipsing through a field unable to see. Not only did I worry about falling or hurting myself, but I couldn’t screw this opportunity up for Graham. His future with the company could rely on this evening.
His concern and care washed over me. With my every step, his steady words guided me. Graham took his burden seriously, and he was my rock. His whisky smooth voice surrounded me. Comforted and led. This man led me to a zone of trust. And hunger. This was how he’d be in bed, leading but also guiding me to go past my comfort zone, all while surrounding me in assurance and support.
“You made it. You’re safe,” he told me.
“Well done, you two.” I recognized Ms. Jackson’s voice. “Ivy, you may take off your blindfold.”
I reached for the knot, but Graham’s steady fingers beat me to the task. Careful with my hair, he untied the loops, and the scarf fell into his hand. I blinked against the brightness a few times, even though the sun lay low in the west. When my vision snapped into focus, Graham’s clear green eyes were the first things I saw. Something heavy and energetic buzzed between us. As if we’d shared a secret. I know I must be grinning up at him like a goofball.
“That was really cool,” I told him.
The corner of his lip tugged up. “Definitely,” he said, the word slow and drawn out, his voice rumbled. The vibration of it throbbed in my chest.
Or maybe I only imagined the sensation. What I hadn’t imagined was how close I felt to this man, an intimacy that went beyond sex.
He bent low, his mouth hovering near my ear. “Your trust in me is like a drug. You’re addictive.”
Chapter 7
As a group, the LZF Gaming team participated in two more games followed by a trust fall. I’m not sure how I felt about this evening. Graham had voiced his skepticism of mandatory fun over and over, but tonight turned out to be incredible. I understood why the CEO believed activities like tonight’s brought out the best in his employees. I’d discovered new strengths within me and developed a faith in the handsome man at my side. The impact must resonate for years with the people who worked and created together.
After Ms. Johnson escorted the brainstorming group to the lodge, Mr. Ferguson motioned for everyone to gather near him. “As you know, Remnant is our most successful game. Our developers have recently developed ways to integrate LARP and we will be beta testing it now. You are to break up into your original pair. Each one of you receives a portion of a map and a team bandana. From this point forward, we’ll refer to you as Team Blue, Team Red and so on.”
A staff member handed Graham green bandanas and a piece of paper.
Mr. Ferguson continued outlining the rules for the rest of the evening. “This lodge sits on over a thousand of the most beautiful acres Arkansas offers. Scattered throughout the park are tents with your corresponding color. Once you locate yours and stake your claim that team is considered safe, and the game ends for you. I know many of you love to camp, and you are welcome to enjoy your night in your shelter. If you discover your tent deflated, you have lost. You’ll also find a small cache of supplies at your campsite, water, granola, that kind of thing. Eat to live or live to eat.”
In other words, locate and secure our campsite quickly.
I glanced over at our map. The green X indicating our safe spot looked a million miles away from the You Are Here arrow. Then I noticed a drawing of what appeared to be a treasure chest.
“I see many of you have noted the prize icon. In the game, the treasure box will hold everything players need to survive in battle–weapons, energy, and health. If you’ve already staked your claim, you cannot search for the trove. In our real-life event tonight, the first team to uncover the box keeps the contents that includes Apple’s next-gen phone, a soundbar, restaurant vouchers. We’ll even pay your Prime and Netflix subscription for a year.”
“Wow. That’s some haul,” I whispered to Graham.
“If you’re first to secure the treasure chest, but discover your tent flat on the ground, you forfeit your prize.”
Several groans emanated from the group. Mr. Ferguson only laughed. “High stakes. High rewards.”
“Can we form alliances?” asked a woman from the development team, and probably a fan of Survivor and Big Brother.
Mr. Ferguson nodded. “The only rule is that you cannot break your pair bond. You must remain sided with your partner. Oh, and I almost forgot. Just to make this a bit more interesting, you’ll notice your bandana has a tear-away fastener that attaches to your shirt. Think flag football. If both members of a team lose their bandana, they’re out.”
With the many ways to fail, I’m suspecting management might keep the iPhone, soundbar, and subscriptions.
“You’ll get points for collecting bandannas.”
Hmm. Collect bandanas, secure our campsite or search for treasure? All had their risks and rewards.
Mr. Ferguson continued. “Refilling your health bar is allowable in the video game. The same goes for our live-action competition. Be aware that health stations are not marked on your map, but you can find a replacement bandana. There is one black bandana available, and it will provide immunity to a team throughout the game. If a member has lost their bandana, they must be the one to physically retrieve the immunity.”
Now I felt guilty for thinking management aimed to keep the prizes.
Mr. Ferguson gave us the thumbs-up signal. “I’ll give you two minutes to strategize and then you’re off.”
Graham and I huddled together. “I’ve read the Hunger Games. No alliance,” I warned.
He chuckled. “Agreed. I say make for our tent. No chasing after teams to grab flags unless the opportunity presents itself. We can search for immunity along the way, but the primary focus should be securing our site.”
I nodded but tapped my chin. “Works for me, but how about once we find our tent, we hang back in the shadows? If someone comes by to deflate, we yank their bandanna.”
He lifted a brow in surprise. “Oh, devious. I like this side of you, Ford.”
Mr. Ferguson waved a flag. “Go time in three, two, one–good luck.”
Graham grabbed my hand, and we raced off in the direction of our tent. I trusted him to lead, while I searched behind us to see if anyone followed, hoping to grab our bandanas. “Most of the teams appear to be heading for the treasure chest.”
“Exchanging the win for short-term gain.”
“Suckers.” A few talked in clumps. Forming alliances or luring people to their doom? A flash of color wafted into the air and I gasped.
Graham slowed and eyed me up and down. “You okay?”
I waved him off. “Yeah, didn’t mean to alarm you. One of the concept artists just stole a bandana from one a coder, and it surprised me. A moment ago they’d clustered together as if planning something.”
“Can’t always trust someone offering an alliance. Good call,” he said.
I loved how Graham considered my opinions and suggestions as important as his own and never took credit for my ideas as his. Wow, past loser boyfriends made me set an incredibly low standard for the men in my life. No more. Never again. I squeezed Graham’s hand as if sealing the bargain.
We continued down the path at a steady clip. I kept up, but after a few minutes, my leg muscles protested. That settled it. Next semester I’ll be studying on the treadmill. Power through. Don’t think of that big, beautiful bed in the suite. Or the tub. Or the room service. Power through.
Graham focused on the course while I remained alert for rivals hoping to snatch our flag. The trail took an abrupt curve up ahead. His steps slowed again, and he led me toward the brush.
“Do you see someone?” I whispered.
He shook his head, but still continued into the deeper cover of the woods. “I’m not trusting that clear pathway to our tent. It’s not tough enough. Anyone can follow us as easily as we’re following the path. We’re targets for a quick bandana grab and run.”
“Hmm, you got a point.”
“How do you feel about keeping off the trail and sticking to the more wooded areas?” he asked.
“I’m good until we see our first snake.” I attempted lighthearted banter, but with snakes, I’m heavyhearted serious.
“Done.” The cover of the trees protected us from sight, but we couldn’t be as quiet as we’d been on the path. Hearing an opponent chase after us also became next to impossible. Graham pointed to his kissable lips, and I knew he believed we must end communicating by words. Thanks to the amazing teamwork we’d developed earlier, being unable to speak didn’t prove as difficult as I’d feared. Pointing to eyes meant “watch me”. Gesturing to the ears signified one of us heard something. Left and right were easy enough and a quick tap on my wrist said stop. After a moment to rest and listen for anyone approaching, we set off again.
We’d trekked through the brush and scrub for ten minutes when the moon came out from behind a cloud. What a gorgeous night. If I didn’t fear someone stealing my bandana, I would have–
My muscles seized. Something flickered in my peripheral vision. I tapped Graham’s hand and angled my head to where I wanted him to search. The heavy darkness hid his expression, but the slow smile spreading across his face confirmed what I’d discovered. Nestled between two trees waited the undetected tent for Team Yellow.
His shoulders stiffened in surprise. He flashed me the V for victory sign and angled his head toward our find as if to say, You wanna tear it down?
My quick nod answered his question, but still, I hesitated. Knocking someone out of the competition felt so mean.
Graham leaned over and kissed the column of my neck. His warm breath sent a delightful shiver along my skin. After shattering my senses in less than two seconds, he whispered in my ear. “Tonight isn’t just playing the game, this is a test of the components. The designers need us to put their scenarios through their paces.”
My guilt subsided. I could convince myself that if we didn’t destroy Team Yellow’s tent, in reality, we’d hurt the developers. I returned an I’m good smile. At his nod, we hurried to the tent together. As we pulled up the stakes one by one, I worked at not laughing. Warmth radiated from the inside out as the adrenaline rushed through my veins, rejuvenating me. As the canvas sides fluttered to the ground, I covered my mouth to hide my giggles. Task completed, we raced for the cover of the dense overgrowth.
Graham wrapped his arms around me and hauled me up against his chest. His lips claimed mine in a passionate kiss. There was no preamble, no gentle prodding–just down and dirty lip-lock as our tongues sparred. He ground his cock between my legs as an inferno erupted between us.
The hoot of an owl broke us apart. I tried to quiet my attempts to drag in deep lungfuls of air. Who knew plundering got me so hot? At least I wasn’t the only one. Graham braced his hands on his thighs as he worked to calm down. Both of us needed a good dousing of cold water.
Water. I groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Graham’s body stiffened, alert to my change in demeanor, ready for action.
“Supplies,” I whispered. We’d deflated Team Yellow’s tent, but forgot their provisions. Needed provisions. The racing through the woods left me parched. We hadn’t plundered at all.
“I’ll grab them,” Graham said, already striding forward, vulnerable.
My fingers curled around the strength of his bicep. “I should do it. I’m smaller and can be lower to the ground.”
He hesitated, and I knew he thought he should be the one to go in some effort of chivalry. I kissed the tip of his nose. “I’ll be fine.”
Crouching low, I snuck into the clearing. Locating the flap in the collapsed tent proved to be more time-consuming than our initial sabotage of the campsite. Finally, I found an opening in the canvas, pulled out a canteen and a backpack and rotated to return to Graham. And safety.
My lungs deflated as I turned. Two men towered over me. Team Blue. “Not a good move coming back for the supplies,” one of them taunted.
“You’re right,” I said, tossing the canteen toward the guy who’d spoken.
His automatic reflexes took over, and he caught the water canteen with both hands against his chest. I yanked his bandana, the ripping echoed in the clearing like beautiful music.
“Oh, shit,” his partner mumbled. I sensed rather than saw his eyes narrow and face harden as he advanced on me. I attempted to scramble away on my backside.
Rip!
And there went my pursuer’s bandana, held high in the air by Graham.
“Bye guys,” I said with a finger wave. Graham snatched the canteen I’d thrown at our defeated foes, slung the cord over his neck, yanked me to my feet and we took off.
We sprinted and dashed around boulders and shrubs until we ran out of breath. I collapsed against Graham’s chest, holding my side. “I had no idea how much fun that would be.”
“You ripped the bandana off the head of research and development. I don’t know who was more shocked.”
I gasped. “Hope you weren’t counting too much on that job.”
“They’d be been less impressed if we’d folded.” He opened the lid to the canteen, and we both took a drink of the cool water.
“This water is amazing. They must have done something to it, but I don’t care.” I rummaged through the bag I’d stolen from Team Yellow, my fingers wrapping around the metal handle of a flashlight.
“That’s how victory tastes.” He leaned over and brushed a light kiss on my lips. “All the more to savor sharing it with you.”
Desire fired to life. “That tent sounds better and better.”
“That improvised run took us far off the path. I’ll need to examine the map again.” He positioned the pack so it hid the glare from the flashlight I aimed at the map. “Maybe five minutes more in that direction. Caught your breath?”
“I’m ready.” I switched off the light, stowed it and the canteen in our newly acquired backpack. Hand in hand we raced off, keeping to the brush. Fifteen yards away from our campsite, we spotted a team edging closer to our tent.
With a few hand gestures, we worked out a plan. I’d sneak up on the woman and steal her bandanna while Graham chased the man. Graham stooped to grab a large rock and then threw it into the leaves in the opposite direction from us. The couple tensed, on high alert, then charged toward where the rock landed.
We sprung into action. Graham snagged the man’s purple bandana, but as I aimed for the woman’s, two more opponents appeared. Team Purple worked in an alliance. I zigged and zagged, but with three against one, my odds weren’t great.
Rip!
My bandana flew high in the air. Stolen by a member of the brown team. I didn’t have to leave the playing field, but the rules prevented me from helping Graham either. I flashed him a sorry expression, but he caressed me under my chin. With lightning speed, he took the bandanna of the person who’d filched mine. Three teams remained, each with one partner missing a bandanna.
“You were supposed to watch him,” accused one of the purple teammates.
“I was,” defended the Team Brown member who still possessed a bandanna.
The original accuser of Team Purple puffed his chest. “Maybe you wanted him to get my bandanna.”
Graham tipped his head to the tree, and the two of us slunk out unnoticed while the four of them argued amongst themselves. Rip!
“Sounds like they’re turning against one another,” I said, feeling reaffirmed in my original decision not to form an alliance.
“Yeah, hopefully, they’ll take each other out.”
We ran deeper into the woods for another five minutes, making sure no one followed us. Then we hunkered down to strategize. “We need the Hunger Games screen so we know who’s still in and who’s out.”
“If any part of the purple or brown team survives, they’ll hang by our site until we come back. It will be personal for them. They’ll want to tear down our tent, take our supplies and grab my bandanna,” he said. “Our only chance is to find a health box. If you want to win. Do you want to win, Ivy?”
“At mandatory fun?” I teased. “Always. But we walked these woods for a while and never saw anything that looked like a health box.”
“I have an idea. You know how Mr. Ferguson said, ‘eat to live or live to eat?’ I think that was a clue.”
I nodded, catching on. “We last ate at the verandah.”
“That must be where they’ve hidden the black bandanna.” He scratched at his chin. “It’s a risk. That’s a lot of backtracking.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m game if you are.”
We spent the next hour trekking our way back to the conference center, passing by a few ransacked tents, but no campsites with their bandannas suspended from the pole. At last, the lights of the hotel came into view. “Look for anything out of place,” he said.
I scanned the area finding nothing. Scanned again. Same tables. Same chairs. Sam box Mr. Ferguson stood on to give his speech. Hold up. Mr. Ferguson was tall. He didn’t need to stand on a box to issue instructions. I squinted. At the corner, someone had painted a tiny red cross. Unnoticeable unless you hunted for it. “There. The box. That must be it.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured me.
“I’m not.” I flashed him a smile, so he’d know he held my complete faith.
“Okay, I want you to take five steps forward.”
I followed his directions and stopped after counting to five.
“Now two more. I needed to learn your pace and stride.”
I took two more.
“Perfect,” he praised.
After his compliment, I shook out my arms like a swimmer. I hadn’t realized how vulnerable I’d be without sight. How I’d have to put everything of myself into his hands. His words. For the next fifteen minutes I leaned on his steady voice to guide me. I began to anticipate his next instruction, waiting for his charge and his approval.
Graham’s composed approach to his responsibility of keeping me safe held me calm. Even though I shuddered at the idea of being blindfolded, that hadn’t compared to traipsing through a field unable to see. Not only did I worry about falling or hurting myself, but I couldn’t screw this opportunity up for Graham. His future with the company could rely on this evening.
His concern and care washed over me. With my every step, his steady words guided me. Graham took his burden seriously, and he was my rock. His whisky smooth voice surrounded me. Comforted and led. This man led me to a zone of trust. And hunger. This was how he’d be in bed, leading but also guiding me to go past my comfort zone, all while surrounding me in assurance and support.
“You made it. You’re safe,” he told me.
“Well done, you two.” I recognized Ms. Jackson’s voice. “Ivy, you may take off your blindfold.”
I reached for the knot, but Graham’s steady fingers beat me to the task. Careful with my hair, he untied the loops, and the scarf fell into his hand. I blinked against the brightness a few times, even though the sun lay low in the west. When my vision snapped into focus, Graham’s clear green eyes were the first things I saw. Something heavy and energetic buzzed between us. As if we’d shared a secret. I know I must be grinning up at him like a goofball.
“That was really cool,” I told him.
The corner of his lip tugged up. “Definitely,” he said, the word slow and drawn out, his voice rumbled. The vibration of it throbbed in my chest.
Or maybe I only imagined the sensation. What I hadn’t imagined was how close I felt to this man, an intimacy that went beyond sex.
He bent low, his mouth hovering near my ear. “Your trust in me is like a drug. You’re addictive.”
Chapter 7
As a group, the LZF Gaming team participated in two more games followed by a trust fall. I’m not sure how I felt about this evening. Graham had voiced his skepticism of mandatory fun over and over, but tonight turned out to be incredible. I understood why the CEO believed activities like tonight’s brought out the best in his employees. I’d discovered new strengths within me and developed a faith in the handsome man at my side. The impact must resonate for years with the people who worked and created together.
After Ms. Johnson escorted the brainstorming group to the lodge, Mr. Ferguson motioned for everyone to gather near him. “As you know, Remnant is our most successful game. Our developers have recently developed ways to integrate LARP and we will be beta testing it now. You are to break up into your original pair. Each one of you receives a portion of a map and a team bandana. From this point forward, we’ll refer to you as Team Blue, Team Red and so on.”
A staff member handed Graham green bandanas and a piece of paper.
Mr. Ferguson continued outlining the rules for the rest of the evening. “This lodge sits on over a thousand of the most beautiful acres Arkansas offers. Scattered throughout the park are tents with your corresponding color. Once you locate yours and stake your claim that team is considered safe, and the game ends for you. I know many of you love to camp, and you are welcome to enjoy your night in your shelter. If you discover your tent deflated, you have lost. You’ll also find a small cache of supplies at your campsite, water, granola, that kind of thing. Eat to live or live to eat.”
In other words, locate and secure our campsite quickly.
I glanced over at our map. The green X indicating our safe spot looked a million miles away from the You Are Here arrow. Then I noticed a drawing of what appeared to be a treasure chest.
“I see many of you have noted the prize icon. In the game, the treasure box will hold everything players need to survive in battle–weapons, energy, and health. If you’ve already staked your claim, you cannot search for the trove. In our real-life event tonight, the first team to uncover the box keeps the contents that includes Apple’s next-gen phone, a soundbar, restaurant vouchers. We’ll even pay your Prime and Netflix subscription for a year.”
“Wow. That’s some haul,” I whispered to Graham.
“If you’re first to secure the treasure chest, but discover your tent flat on the ground, you forfeit your prize.”
Several groans emanated from the group. Mr. Ferguson only laughed. “High stakes. High rewards.”
“Can we form alliances?” asked a woman from the development team, and probably a fan of Survivor and Big Brother.
Mr. Ferguson nodded. “The only rule is that you cannot break your pair bond. You must remain sided with your partner. Oh, and I almost forgot. Just to make this a bit more interesting, you’ll notice your bandana has a tear-away fastener that attaches to your shirt. Think flag football. If both members of a team lose their bandana, they’re out.”
With the many ways to fail, I’m suspecting management might keep the iPhone, soundbar, and subscriptions.
“You’ll get points for collecting bandannas.”
Hmm. Collect bandanas, secure our campsite or search for treasure? All had their risks and rewards.
Mr. Ferguson continued. “Refilling your health bar is allowable in the video game. The same goes for our live-action competition. Be aware that health stations are not marked on your map, but you can find a replacement bandana. There is one black bandana available, and it will provide immunity to a team throughout the game. If a member has lost their bandana, they must be the one to physically retrieve the immunity.”
Now I felt guilty for thinking management aimed to keep the prizes.
Mr. Ferguson gave us the thumbs-up signal. “I’ll give you two minutes to strategize and then you’re off.”
Graham and I huddled together. “I’ve read the Hunger Games. No alliance,” I warned.
He chuckled. “Agreed. I say make for our tent. No chasing after teams to grab flags unless the opportunity presents itself. We can search for immunity along the way, but the primary focus should be securing our site.”
I nodded but tapped my chin. “Works for me, but how about once we find our tent, we hang back in the shadows? If someone comes by to deflate, we yank their bandanna.”
He lifted a brow in surprise. “Oh, devious. I like this side of you, Ford.”
Mr. Ferguson waved a flag. “Go time in three, two, one–good luck.”
Graham grabbed my hand, and we raced off in the direction of our tent. I trusted him to lead, while I searched behind us to see if anyone followed, hoping to grab our bandanas. “Most of the teams appear to be heading for the treasure chest.”
“Exchanging the win for short-term gain.”
“Suckers.” A few talked in clumps. Forming alliances or luring people to their doom? A flash of color wafted into the air and I gasped.
Graham slowed and eyed me up and down. “You okay?”
I waved him off. “Yeah, didn’t mean to alarm you. One of the concept artists just stole a bandana from one a coder, and it surprised me. A moment ago they’d clustered together as if planning something.”
“Can’t always trust someone offering an alliance. Good call,” he said.
I loved how Graham considered my opinions and suggestions as important as his own and never took credit for my ideas as his. Wow, past loser boyfriends made me set an incredibly low standard for the men in my life. No more. Never again. I squeezed Graham’s hand as if sealing the bargain.
We continued down the path at a steady clip. I kept up, but after a few minutes, my leg muscles protested. That settled it. Next semester I’ll be studying on the treadmill. Power through. Don’t think of that big, beautiful bed in the suite. Or the tub. Or the room service. Power through.
Graham focused on the course while I remained alert for rivals hoping to snatch our flag. The trail took an abrupt curve up ahead. His steps slowed again, and he led me toward the brush.
“Do you see someone?” I whispered.
He shook his head, but still continued into the deeper cover of the woods. “I’m not trusting that clear pathway to our tent. It’s not tough enough. Anyone can follow us as easily as we’re following the path. We’re targets for a quick bandana grab and run.”
“Hmm, you got a point.”
“How do you feel about keeping off the trail and sticking to the more wooded areas?” he asked.
“I’m good until we see our first snake.” I attempted lighthearted banter, but with snakes, I’m heavyhearted serious.
“Done.” The cover of the trees protected us from sight, but we couldn’t be as quiet as we’d been on the path. Hearing an opponent chase after us also became next to impossible. Graham pointed to his kissable lips, and I knew he believed we must end communicating by words. Thanks to the amazing teamwork we’d developed earlier, being unable to speak didn’t prove as difficult as I’d feared. Pointing to eyes meant “watch me”. Gesturing to the ears signified one of us heard something. Left and right were easy enough and a quick tap on my wrist said stop. After a moment to rest and listen for anyone approaching, we set off again.
We’d trekked through the brush and scrub for ten minutes when the moon came out from behind a cloud. What a gorgeous night. If I didn’t fear someone stealing my bandana, I would have–
My muscles seized. Something flickered in my peripheral vision. I tapped Graham’s hand and angled my head to where I wanted him to search. The heavy darkness hid his expression, but the slow smile spreading across his face confirmed what I’d discovered. Nestled between two trees waited the undetected tent for Team Yellow.
His shoulders stiffened in surprise. He flashed me the V for victory sign and angled his head toward our find as if to say, You wanna tear it down?
My quick nod answered his question, but still, I hesitated. Knocking someone out of the competition felt so mean.
Graham leaned over and kissed the column of my neck. His warm breath sent a delightful shiver along my skin. After shattering my senses in less than two seconds, he whispered in my ear. “Tonight isn’t just playing the game, this is a test of the components. The designers need us to put their scenarios through their paces.”
My guilt subsided. I could convince myself that if we didn’t destroy Team Yellow’s tent, in reality, we’d hurt the developers. I returned an I’m good smile. At his nod, we hurried to the tent together. As we pulled up the stakes one by one, I worked at not laughing. Warmth radiated from the inside out as the adrenaline rushed through my veins, rejuvenating me. As the canvas sides fluttered to the ground, I covered my mouth to hide my giggles. Task completed, we raced for the cover of the dense overgrowth.
Graham wrapped his arms around me and hauled me up against his chest. His lips claimed mine in a passionate kiss. There was no preamble, no gentle prodding–just down and dirty lip-lock as our tongues sparred. He ground his cock between my legs as an inferno erupted between us.
The hoot of an owl broke us apart. I tried to quiet my attempts to drag in deep lungfuls of air. Who knew plundering got me so hot? At least I wasn’t the only one. Graham braced his hands on his thighs as he worked to calm down. Both of us needed a good dousing of cold water.
Water. I groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Graham’s body stiffened, alert to my change in demeanor, ready for action.
“Supplies,” I whispered. We’d deflated Team Yellow’s tent, but forgot their provisions. Needed provisions. The racing through the woods left me parched. We hadn’t plundered at all.
“I’ll grab them,” Graham said, already striding forward, vulnerable.
My fingers curled around the strength of his bicep. “I should do it. I’m smaller and can be lower to the ground.”
He hesitated, and I knew he thought he should be the one to go in some effort of chivalry. I kissed the tip of his nose. “I’ll be fine.”
Crouching low, I snuck into the clearing. Locating the flap in the collapsed tent proved to be more time-consuming than our initial sabotage of the campsite. Finally, I found an opening in the canvas, pulled out a canteen and a backpack and rotated to return to Graham. And safety.
My lungs deflated as I turned. Two men towered over me. Team Blue. “Not a good move coming back for the supplies,” one of them taunted.
“You’re right,” I said, tossing the canteen toward the guy who’d spoken.
His automatic reflexes took over, and he caught the water canteen with both hands against his chest. I yanked his bandana, the ripping echoed in the clearing like beautiful music.
“Oh, shit,” his partner mumbled. I sensed rather than saw his eyes narrow and face harden as he advanced on me. I attempted to scramble away on my backside.
Rip!
And there went my pursuer’s bandana, held high in the air by Graham.
“Bye guys,” I said with a finger wave. Graham snatched the canteen I’d thrown at our defeated foes, slung the cord over his neck, yanked me to my feet and we took off.
We sprinted and dashed around boulders and shrubs until we ran out of breath. I collapsed against Graham’s chest, holding my side. “I had no idea how much fun that would be.”
“You ripped the bandana off the head of research and development. I don’t know who was more shocked.”
I gasped. “Hope you weren’t counting too much on that job.”
“They’d be been less impressed if we’d folded.” He opened the lid to the canteen, and we both took a drink of the cool water.
“This water is amazing. They must have done something to it, but I don’t care.” I rummaged through the bag I’d stolen from Team Yellow, my fingers wrapping around the metal handle of a flashlight.
“That’s how victory tastes.” He leaned over and brushed a light kiss on my lips. “All the more to savor sharing it with you.”
Desire fired to life. “That tent sounds better and better.”
“That improvised run took us far off the path. I’ll need to examine the map again.” He positioned the pack so it hid the glare from the flashlight I aimed at the map. “Maybe five minutes more in that direction. Caught your breath?”
“I’m ready.” I switched off the light, stowed it and the canteen in our newly acquired backpack. Hand in hand we raced off, keeping to the brush. Fifteen yards away from our campsite, we spotted a team edging closer to our tent.
With a few hand gestures, we worked out a plan. I’d sneak up on the woman and steal her bandanna while Graham chased the man. Graham stooped to grab a large rock and then threw it into the leaves in the opposite direction from us. The couple tensed, on high alert, then charged toward where the rock landed.
We sprung into action. Graham snagged the man’s purple bandana, but as I aimed for the woman’s, two more opponents appeared. Team Purple worked in an alliance. I zigged and zagged, but with three against one, my odds weren’t great.
Rip!
My bandana flew high in the air. Stolen by a member of the brown team. I didn’t have to leave the playing field, but the rules prevented me from helping Graham either. I flashed him a sorry expression, but he caressed me under my chin. With lightning speed, he took the bandanna of the person who’d filched mine. Three teams remained, each with one partner missing a bandanna.
“You were supposed to watch him,” accused one of the purple teammates.
“I was,” defended the Team Brown member who still possessed a bandanna.
The original accuser of Team Purple puffed his chest. “Maybe you wanted him to get my bandanna.”
Graham tipped his head to the tree, and the two of us slunk out unnoticed while the four of them argued amongst themselves. Rip!
“Sounds like they’re turning against one another,” I said, feeling reaffirmed in my original decision not to form an alliance.
“Yeah, hopefully, they’ll take each other out.”
We ran deeper into the woods for another five minutes, making sure no one followed us. Then we hunkered down to strategize. “We need the Hunger Games screen so we know who’s still in and who’s out.”
“If any part of the purple or brown team survives, they’ll hang by our site until we come back. It will be personal for them. They’ll want to tear down our tent, take our supplies and grab my bandanna,” he said. “Our only chance is to find a health box. If you want to win. Do you want to win, Ivy?”
“At mandatory fun?” I teased. “Always. But we walked these woods for a while and never saw anything that looked like a health box.”
“I have an idea. You know how Mr. Ferguson said, ‘eat to live or live to eat?’ I think that was a clue.”
I nodded, catching on. “We last ate at the verandah.”
“That must be where they’ve hidden the black bandanna.” He scratched at his chin. “It’s a risk. That’s a lot of backtracking.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m game if you are.”
We spent the next hour trekking our way back to the conference center, passing by a few ransacked tents, but no campsites with their bandannas suspended from the pole. At last, the lights of the hotel came into view. “Look for anything out of place,” he said.
I scanned the area finding nothing. Scanned again. Same tables. Same chairs. Sam box Mr. Ferguson stood on to give his speech. Hold up. Mr. Ferguson was tall. He didn’t need to stand on a box to issue instructions. I squinted. At the corner, someone had painted a tiny red cross. Unnoticeable unless you hunted for it. “There. The box. That must be it.”
