Plotting to Win Read Online Free Page B

the seating area and behind that, your beds. I’ll show you the kitchen, rec room, and gym in a minute. Be warned that every room is on camera except the bed area, bathrooms, and kitchen.”
    “Wait a minute,” the military man — Meacham — stepped forward, “you expect men and women to sleep in the same room?”
    Victor was also surprised by this, but he wasn’t going to complain — not as long as that chocolate beauty was here. His cock throbbed at the thought of bunking next to her.
    “Yep. You’re all bunking down here. If it makes you feel better, you can do women on one side, men on —”
    “I’m not comfortable with that.”
    “What, army man, you didn’t work with women soldiers?” This was from the chick lit writer. “What’s the problem? We’re all created equal.”
    “You have tits.” Horror writer shook his head. “It makes a world of difference.”
    “But I only brought negligees!” This, of course, came from Miss Erotica.
    Oh, this was ridiculous. Victor decided to step in. “I don’t know about you guys, but personally, I love sleeping with women.” He aimed a cocky grin at Felicity and winked. He could swear her dark skin coloured just a little in the lighter areas of her cheeks. Leaving the ensuing argument and laughter behind him, he eliminated the distance between him and his target and leaned down to speak huskily in her ear, getting a whiff of decadent perfume as he did so. “Matter of fact, why don’t we sleep next to each other?”
    “You’re just trying to throw me off my game, and it’s not going to work, Mr. Guzman.” Felicity targeted him with a hard stare and placed one hand on her hip saucily.
    Damn, she was hot. He’d love to have a character like her. Maybe she could be a lawyer who ate men like him for breakfast, or a vixen with a gun. Yea, she’d make a great vigilante character.
    “I’d like to throw you somewhere, but it’s not off anything. More like on.” He allowed his gaze to fall to his throbbing cock — thank God he wore baggy pants — and knew he was being a jerk, but she was right. He had to throw her off her game. Something told him she’d be his biggest competitor. She carried herself with confidence and was the only one not voicing five hundred complaints. Plus, she was throwing him off his game.
    Time to reverse the tables.
    A sigh emitted from those pink lips, just a small puff of air, but he knew he had her wound up. “I thought you weren’t here to make friends?” One dark eyebrow went up with the question.
    “Who said we had to be friends?” He was so close to her now that if he moved four more inches, he could taste those pink —
    “Oh God. I don’t have time for this.” She huffed and pushed him out of the way. “I’m here to write.”
    He smirked. “I’m used to being called that. It’s okay.”
    She gave a grunt and stomped away, off to view the bathrooms and kitchen and whatever else was behind closed doors.
    They’d been so engrossed in each other they’d missed the rest of the grand tour. Though, personally, Victor felt he’d had the best view. Those dagger-shooting eyes, those pursed pink lips, and soft curls he wanted to reach out and tug on and watch them spring up again.
    Victor chuckled to himself. That woman was going to be fun to mess with.
    Dez pushed his glasses up his nose as he tried to get comfortable on the stool provided. The camera rolled, its light aimed at him.
    “How do you feel about what happened today?” The question came from an unseen source — the camera operator?
    With a wry chuckle, and a flash of white teeth against dark skin, the African-American writer threw his hands up in a ‘what gives?’ gesture. “I got the toilet, man. It’s a bit disconcerting. I don’t think my writing belongs in the crapper.” He paused to run a hand over his chin. “But I’m not going to let it handicap me. Soon as someone is eliminated, I’m trying for their cave, ‘cause it isn’t going to