Body Games (A Games Novel) (17 page)

I sighed. “Jendan—“

“It’s okay,” he said softly, and kissed the tip of my nose. “We’ll just huddle together for warmth, how’s that?”

“If we weren’t in the game—“

“I know.” He patted my shoulder. “I understand. I really do. Don’t worry about it.” He inched away and then pushed a fold of the blanket between us, forming a barrier between our bodies. “There. All better.”

My fingers played with the hair at his nape. “Can I take a rain check? Once we’re both out of the game, maybe we try again?”

“Of course,” he said. “Get some sleep.”

Easier said than done.

Chapter Fifteen

“Sometimes, I really hate being in this damn game.” — Jendan Abercrombie, Day 16, Endurance Island: Power Players

We totally dominated the next Judgment challenge.

It was clear to me that Jendan and I were the strongest team left. Not bragging, just calling it as I saw it. We’d managed to win fishing tackle a few days ago in a reward challenge and had caught a few tiny fish to give our bodies protein. With that and the fact that we were both young and strong, we blew past the others. The Judgment challenge had been another obstacle course followed by a slide puzzle at the end, and we ended up in first place by a mile.

Sunnie and her partner Rusty came in second to last, and the very last to finish were Kip and Kissy, who weren’t working together well at all. Kissy tried hard, but she wasn’t athletic, and Kip apparently ragged on her for slowing him down. I knew how that was, and I felt bad for her when she cried all through Judgment.

Of course, it didn’t matter how bad I felt for her — I was still voting for Kip.

Jendan was on the same page as me. Not only did he hate Kip, but his old partner, Sunnie, was up against them. It was no surprise to anyone that our vote was to keep Sunnie and Rusty.

It was, however, surprising to me when I saw we were the only ones that voted to keep them. Maybe it was Kissy’s tears. Maybe as a team, Kissy and Kip seemed like more of a train wreck and less of a threat. Whatever it was, Sunnie and Rusty lost Judgment.

Their challenge was another fire-making challenge. I heard Jendan make an unhappy noise in his throat and I knew what that meant - Sunnie wouldn’t know how to make a fire. Sure enough, Rusty was able to make a fire before Sunnie even figured out how to use the flint and steel.

She was done.

Her eyes pooled up with tears and she gave Jendan a desperate look before she had to leave the Judgment area. As if he could save her. No one could save her at this point in the game.

Unless she had Pandora’s Box, and I knew she didn’t. I had it. With a sad little sniffle, Sunnie tossed her beautiful red hair and headed down the path, out of the game. Jendan’s former partner was gone.

When we got back to camp, the sun was setting. Jendan was quiet, so I respected his mood and went off to the well (which we’d found a few days ago) to get water to boil. I gathered a coconut or two and split them open, then offered him one to eat.

He ignored it and pulled me into his lap, instead, burying his head against my breasts, obviously needing comfort.

I hesitated for a moment, then wrapped my arms around him, stroking his shaggy hair. “You okay?” There was nothing sexual in the way he held me. It was clear that he just needed me. I ignored the cameraman circling and focused on Jendan. “You want to talk about it?”

“I’m okay,” he told me softly. “I just…ever since we got here, I’ve been protecting her and taking care of her, you know? She’s like a little sister to me. And I couldn’t help her today. I feel like I let her down.”

“It’s just a game,” I soothed, stroking his hair and trying not to pay attention to how his face was pressed against my breasts. I fought the urge to shove his face between them and see how he reacted.
Bad Annabelle. Bad!
“She’ll be fine once she sits down and has something to eat and a nice hot shower.”

“She knew she was out of her depth here. I tried to make up the slack for her, but she felt bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” I told him again. “You can’t play for her. You can only play for yourself.”

He nodded, his bristly chin moving against my breasts.

“And however sad you are about Sunnie, there’s no denying that
we
kicked ass today.”

Jendan squeezed me closer. “We do make a good team.”

“See?” I teased him. “Just remember that it’s a game. Everything that’s happening here has nothing to do with real life.”

He stilled. “Everything?”

Almost everything.

~~ *** ~~

It was getting harder and harder to resist my sexy partner as the days went by. It didn’t matter that neither one of us had showered in weeks, or that our breath probably smelled. We were drawn together like two magnets. If he passed by me on the beach, he’d reach out to touch me. If I came up behind him, I’d wrap my arms around him and press my breasts against his back.

It was a delicious kind of torture, really.

The more we vowed to be platonic, the more we toed the line. We didn’t kiss. We just touched. And talked. And imagined what it would be like after the game, when we’d have all the time in the world to explore each other.

Nights were the worst. Okay, they were really the
best
, but they tried my resolve pretty hard. As soon as dusk hit, we’d crawl into bed together, under the blanket, and just explore each other’s bodies. Not in any particular erogenous zones - he’d yet to touch my breasts or my sex, and I hadn’t touched his cock - but we’d just stroke arms and legs and necks and hands and feet. I learned all the spots that Jendan was ticklish at, and he learned that I wasn’t ticklish at all, much to his disappointment. He’d give my shoulders a good rub instead, and that always made me boneless with delight.

We had to keep the touching under the blankets, though. The moment Jendan touched me, my nipples would get hard and I could feel my pussy get wet with need. And when we pressed our bodies together, however platonically, I could feel the thick, hard length of his erection against my skin. We were constantly aroused by the other’s presence, but it was an unspoken sort of agreement that we’d do nothing to alleviate that arousal.

And we talked. Lordy, we talked. There was no subject we left unturned, from stories of how we’d both lost our virginity (him: prom; me: homecoming, under the bleachers), our childhoods growing up, and old relationships that hadn’t worked out. I told him about my last time in the game and how Kip had used me, and how stupid I’d felt afterward because I thought I’d been in love. He told me about playing
House Guests
, and the supposedly haunted house they’d left them in, and the other players.

We talked about everything under the sun, and we laughed and joked and had a wonderful time.

Despite being hungry and dirty and naked and in a state of constant, unfulfilled arousal? I’d say it was the best week of my life.

It was getting more difficult to keep things pristine for the cameras, though. I’d stroke my hands down Jendan’s thigh, pleased to hear his muffled groan, only to see a microphone appear overhead and a cameraman show up nearby, filming.

That killed my ardor pretty quick, every damn time.

We still nailed it in challenges, too. Not only did we work well together on the beach, but we worked well together when things came down to the wire. We narrowly missed out on one food challenge, and won another (pineapple and ham pizza). And the Judgment challenges continued to whittle down the playing field. Rusty was the next one to go, an auto-elimination once he was nominated for Judgment and lost, becoming the first member of the jury. His poor wife Kissy wept copiously when he left, as if her heart was breaking. I felt sorry for her, but I reminded myself it was just a game, no matter how heart-wrenching her sobs.

Really, though, things were going perfectly. I had an amazing partner, we kicked butt in challenges, and we were eating a little every day. We’d even made the jury. Things were pretty awesome on Blue Team’s beach.

Which meant that something was bound to go wrong, right?

~~ *** ~~

“Welcome to today’s Judgment challenge,” Chip said as we lined up on our colored mats.

There were only four teams left. The yellow team was completely gone, which left Red, Blue, Green, and Purple. Of those teams left, I was pretty sure we could destroy them all in a physical challenge of any kind.

Which was why it alarmed me when I saw the long, narrow table set up in the challenge area. I gave Jendan a worried look. We’d been eating well the last week or so, but I knew my partner still got squeamish when it came to gutting fish. I did all the fish cleaning to spare him.

For a big, brawny, muscular guy, Jendan had the stomach of a sickly pre-teen.

I buried my worries, crossing my arms over my breasts and keeping my attention focused on Chip. Maybe I was just thinking worst case scenario. There could be any number of challenges that had to deal with a long, waist high table.

A fleet of production assistants moved to the table, setting covered silver platters in eight spots. Something pungent tickled my nostrils.

Oh dear.

“For today’s Judgment,” Chip began, an unholy look of glee on his face, “You will be partaking in a number of traditional Fijian dishes.”

Hell. I looked over at Jendan. My partner had gone pale and swallowed hard.

“You can do this,” I murmured. I reached for his hand and laced my fingers with his, then gave him an encouraging squeeze.

He nodded, but the look on his face didn’t fill me with confidence.

“For each round,” Chip continued, walking down the length of the long tables. “Each person will have a dish presented to them. They must consume all of the dish. If you do not finish your dish, you are out. If you throw up your dish, you are out.” He gestured at the covered trays. “There are eight places here, but only five will move on to the next round of eating. The first two teams to lose both partners will be heading to Judgment. Does everyone understand?”

I began to sweat a little. Jendan could do this. He could. He should be hungry, I told myself. We hadn’t eaten breakfast today because we’d been unable to catch anything in the ocean to eat. If he was hungry enough, this wouldn’t be so bad.

And if he was awful at it, I’d just have to eat enough for both of us.

Chapter Sixteen

“You should have seen those things. Eyes, man. They still had eyes. Ugh. I get queasy just thinking about it right now.” — Jendan Abercrombie, Day 23, Endurance Island: Power Players

“Everyone line up at their places,” Chip announced.

I gave Jendan’s hand an encouraging little squeeze before we stepped up to the table. He gave me a worried look, and then his gaze focused on his plate. Mine did too, and I tried to imagine the horrors underneath there. Kip stepped up next to me, and as I looked over at him, he smirked and licked his lips.

My heart sank a little. Kip never had trouble with these sorts of challenges.

Chip spoke again. “When I say go, I want everyone to remove their lids. You must finish everything but the containers,” Chip instructed. “Three…two…one…go!”

I scrambled to pull the lid off of my plate, pushing it aside and examining the revealed items. There was a great big white bowl in front of me, and in the bowl were what looked like teeny tiny clusters of green grapes. They looked like caviar, almost. The bowl was brimming full of them, too, and I was dismayed at the sheer amount of food in it. Next to the bowl was a coconut half, and in the coconut was something that looked like dirty dishwater.

Ewww.

“For the first course,” Chip said. “A Fijian staple called
nama
- or sea-grapes. In the cup is
kava
, a traditional alcoholic drink.”

I picked up one cluster of sea grapes and popped it into my mouth. A dozen tiny little squirting explosions hit, and I mentally winced - it was like biting into a bunch of bubbles filled with sea water. Gross. I chewed, trying not to think about it, and blanched when grains of sand crunched between my teeth. Wrinkling my nose, I reached for the drink, took a swig, and blanched again. Not only did it look like dirty dishwater, but it tasted like it, too. Now there was even more grit in my mouth.

Gross, but not so bad.

I looked over to see how Jendan was faring. My partner was pale, his throat working hard. He reached for his drink - the
kava
- and grimaced. If it was possible, he got even paler. Not good.

I swallowed, grimacing at the briny, bitter taste, and then popped another bunch into my mouth. I focused on Jendan instead. If I chewed enthusiastically and tried not to make faces, maybe that would encourage him that it wasn’t so bad.

He closed his eyes and methodically worked his jaw, chewing vigorously. After a moment, he held his nose and continued to chew.

Well, whatever worked. At least he was keeping it down. I swallowed another too-salty-too-gritty mouthful and went to work on the next.

Time passed incredibly slowly. By the time I got to the bottom of my bowl, my mouth was dry from the salty flavor, my stomach was feeling a little abused, and the kava was making my tongue numb every time I drank it. I was on my last bite when Chip threw his hands up dramatically. “Kip is done with his food!”