Page 69 of Fight

I smile smugly at her unsuccessful shot. “Have you ever missed this many in a row before?”

Scottie grumbles something snarky under her breath.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over the wind.”

“Oh my god.” She tucks her tongue in her cheek and shakes her head. “You’re the worst.”

“G-10.” I glance up when she doesn’t reply.

“What the fuck?!” She covers her face with both hands and laughs, then jabs her finger in my direction. “You’re cheating!”

I bark out a laugh at hitting another one of her ships. “You’re kidding?”

She scoffs, and takes a red peg from the tray, placing it on her board.This is amazing. “J-9,” she guesses.

Ooh, now she’s got me. “Hit.” I’m not concerned, I’ll have her naked in only a couple plays anyway. “G-9.”

“Hit,” she relents. “I-9?”

She’s struck a different ship, but I don’t have to tell her that.

After two more rounds, I announce she’s sank my patrol boat and remove my socks. She studies me curiously, and her eyes light up, realizing I’ve stacked my boats next to each other.

“G-6,” I say, my final shot.

“You sunk my carrier.”

Fuck yes. “Take it off.”

I know for a fact she’s not wearing underwear because the only pair she has is drying in front of the wood stove. She shimmies, dragging the shirt past her crossed thighs, and pulls the hem up and over her head. She sits there, attempting to cover up with the Battleship board on her lap, but nothing could hide her curves.Amen.

“Looks like I win,” I tease, admiring her body.

Her jaw drops. “What are you talking about? I still have two ships left!”

I chuckle. “But you don’t have any more to lose.”

“We could bet on other things.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Like what, sexual favors?” My stare trails up her body, and I smirk at her hard nipples. “Does the idea turn you on?”

Her face flushes pink.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask.

“I don’t kn?—”

“Yes, you do. Come on, Scottie. Tell me what it is you’re thinking about.”

Naked and blushing? Good god, what I would give to get in that pretty head of hers and read all those dirty thoughts.

“H-10,” she says, avoiding the question.

“Hit,” I reply without looking at my board. “A-2?”

“Miss.” She taps her chin. “H-9?”

“Hit.”