Falling For Her Enemy [Book #5]

Chapter 9

We were all huddled up together, trying to figure out who on our team was the best person to take on this last challenge.

"I think Mase should be the one to do it," Adeleine suggested. "He has the best focus."

If Hayden were here, we would have gone with him, no question. He's great at everything. But like most of our other family members, they had other priorities tonight.

Hayden, in particular, was having dinner with Olive and his coach. He'd already promised to be there and was afraid his coach would beat his ass if he didn't show up.

"I think Harper should do it," Mason said.

"What? Me?" I shook my head. "No way. You guys know I'm terrible at Jenga."

"It's all in your head, sis. You're not that bad."

"Why can't you do it?"

He grinned and placed his hand on my head. "Because I have faith in you."

"Fine. Whatever. I'll do it, but if we lose, it's all on you."

We broke the huddle, and I headed over to the coffee table where the Jenga had been set up. My uncle Everett was the opponent they chose from his team, which made me that much more nervous. He's the undefeated champion when it comes to this game.

"Good luck, kid," he said with a wink and a smile.

I nodded. I was going to need it.

My dad decides that I should go first since our team won the last game. Swallowing, I try my best to calm my shaky hand as I reach for a wooden block in the middle of the stack. I pull it out from the corner, successfully, and place the block on top.

Then my uncle Everett goes. He targets the easiest block towards the end of the stack. He pushes the middle block out and places it on top next to mine.

It becomes my turn again. We go back and forth like this for some time, the tension in the room thick and loud despite how quiet everyone is.

During the game, there is a moment where the wooden blocks begin to shake when Uncle Everett tugs on a block sticking out of the stack. He curses, his blue eyes darting between the block and me.

A single bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face. He licks his lips, visibly nervous. His title of "Undefeated Jenga Champion" is at stake. I can tell he wants to trade in for a different, less riskier block.

But he can't. He knows the rules. Once you touch the block, you have to take it.

So he goes for it. The wooden blocks tower to the right and come crumbling down. And just like that, after an intense forty-five minutes, my team is deemed the winner and I am now the new "Jenga Champion."

Old School: 1

New School: 2

I rush over to give my uncle Everett a hug while the rest of my team celebrates our victory like we just won the Superbowl.

He kissed the top of my head and smiled. "Good game, kid. You were quite the formidable opponent."

"Thank you, uncle Ev. You weren't so bad yourself."

Later that night, after game night had ended and everyone's gone home, I decided to treat myself to a nice hot bath.

I'd thrown in some rose petals and lavender into the water as a natural stress reliever. And because they smelled amazing. 

Taking a breath, I rest my head against the tub's rim. I close my eyes. Miles pops into my head. A smile etches onto my face. What were once innocent images of him are now lewd and has the blood rushing to my cheeks.

My breathing has changed. It's more laborious than before. My legs spread on their volition, my hand reaching to fondle my breast before slithering down to the space between my legs where the ache is most prominent.

A gasp escapes me. I'm hot all over and craving to be touched. My movements are eager. Selfish. My eyes roll as my head is filled with more images of Miles. Of us together.

Until they weren't.

Like a carousel slide projector, the images in my head flicker from Miles to Landon. My breathing intensifies. I don't want to stop. I'm close.

I shake my head and scrunch my nose at the sudden disturbance. I try my hardest to focus my attention back on Miles. But the images keep changing. Miles. Landon. Miles. Landon.

The images settle on Landon. Landon shirtless. Landon smiling that smile of his. Landon's blue eyes fixated on me. Landon whispering that stupid nickname he gave me in my ear.

"Where do you want me, freckles?" The distorted voice belonging to Landon asks.

My teeth sink into my lower lip.

Landon's lowering onto his knees. His cornflower blues eyes are sparkling like stars in the night. Again, I try to shake the image of him out of my head. And again, I fail.

I toss my head back when I feel all my efforts work to bring about my release. Landon's name is on the tip of my tongue. I want to moan his name, but I don't. I shove it back down. An asshole like him doesn't deserve to have the privilege.

So in the midst of my moans, I say in a breathy whisper, "I hate you." 

It's how I felt. Because even in my dreams, Landon Avery torments me and I hated it. And I hated myself even more because not only did I let myself indulge the idea of having sex with Landon, but I didn't hate it as much as I wanted to.

Opening my eyes, I let out a grumble of protest. I was angry. I was supposed to be relaxed. But all it did was make me feel everything but.

I hate you, Landon Avery. I hate you.