“I’ll keep doing this until you can list at least ten things. Ten things that you love more about me than my brother! Come on then … Number one, Sophs?” He chuckles as I struggle wildly, pinned down in an embrace I have no chance of escaping, by muscles that are clearly more than a match for me. I squeal more as he roughly messes my hair again, to remind me that he will, because he’s evil and has no scruples.

“Okaayy … Okaayy!” I wail, knowing this is futile. Arrick has many forms of torture when he is being playful, and he isn’t against pinning me on the floor with my arms under his legs, to tickle me to squealing hysteria again.

“Number one?” Arrick repeats loudly. I have nothing else to do but answer him when he’s like this, knowing he will just keep tormenting me till I yield. I’m more afraid of the tickling than this, and I do not have the energy for that kind of hell.

“You have a nicer ass,” I blurt out, grasping at straws and aiming for one that he already knows anyway. Not that I have ever checked out Jake’s ass, but Arrick certainly has a toned and pert butt of a fighter and often gets checked out. He wears butt hugging jeans most of the time and it’s pretty hard to not see it if you are ever behind him, to the side of him, or if he just turns for a moment. It’s like it draws the eye effortlessly.

“Okay, you think I have a nice ass. Interesting! Can I say, from up here yours looks pretty good too.” He smacks mine hard from over the top of me and I curse him out with the sting that follows. “Number two?” Arrick is enjoying this a little too much. I can hear him grinning, even though I cannot get up to face him in this death hold he has me in. My butt is throbbing from that assault and I glare at the sidewalk.

“You have better taste in movies.” I grapple with his arm, hands on his abdomen and hips in a bid to get free, but he isn’t letting up. All I end up doing is getting squished in a firmer embrace as he laughs at me, enjoying my pitiful efforts. His chuckle vibrates through me from his upper body, and even though I am still fighting him, I am also laughing, unable not to.

God, I hate him sometimes!

“Come on, Sophs, you can do better than that. I thought you loved me more than Jake.” He grips me a little tighter, so I gasp for air and try to stamp on his foot. He dodges with another laugh, turns so I’m dragged in a half circle, and almost fall over my own cases.

you! … Ugh … You have a nicer face!” I yelp and wriggle uncontrollably, energy waning under his relentless hold and getting seriously annoyed with being

fully laughing now, properly, and undisturbed, completely smug

is such an

him, my legs aching with holding me in this pose and sides starting to throb with the effort of laughing. I’m torn between finding this hilarious and wanting to smack him in the face, or the balls. Right now, if I could get a hand free, I would definitely

now and I will let you go. Come on, Mimmo!” He

trying to calm the throbbing sore throb from blood overflow and think rationally. I can’t keep complimenting his face or body in case he thinks I do actually

in complete desperation, clutching at straws crazily, and wracking my brain for more on the spot compliments. It’s not that there isn’t a huge list,

an instant and pulls

you

an edgy tone to his voice suddenly, the look on his face is scarily pissed and his eyes are alarmingly green for someone with hazel. I can only shrug, fumbling, as I didn’t expect this sort of reaction from him, or at this sort of speed. I can barely catch up with the sudden mood change that

face is heating now that I think through how my answer was conveyed. Arrick’s studying me with such an odd expression that he’s making me nervous. He looks like he might want to hit someone, that death glare of Carrero he reserves for

react to this mood I’ve never seen on him. He is completely serious, tilting his head at an angle, frowning harshly with that tone that says he is more than a little bit mad; he’s practically gritting his

mean, I’ve seen him kissing her, so from … you know … that one time that we did, I guess you are probably better.” I’m floundering pathetically, heat well and truly creeping up my cheeks in mortification, so I know they are

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