Page 212 of The Christmas Wife

His gaze intensifies. "You sound surprised," he drawls.

"I… I am. I wasn’t expecting you to?—"

"Say what’s on my mind?"

I nod. "It’s not the kind of candor I thought I’d hear from a man who comes from a privileged background."

The skin around his eyes creases. "There you go, passing judgment on me again."

I stiffen. "I’m not passing judgment."

"Aren’t you?" He shoves his free hand in the pocket of his pants. "Since we’ve met, you’ve told me you hate my background, you don’t trust my upbringing?—"

"I didn’t?—"

"'You belong to the kind of entitled, snobbish, rich pricks who think the world owes them.’" He inclines his head.

Heat flushes my cheeks, but I don’t look away. "You remember what I said word-for-word, eh?"

His lips twist. "I remember everything about you, Fire."

The heat spreads to my chest, and down to that traitorous core of me. My toes curl. I like his nickname for me. A little too much, maybe. I tip up my chin. "Don’t call me that."

"You’re fiery, stubborn and light up everything around you. You snipe at me, and I want to turn you over my lap and spank you. You scowl at me, and I want to kiss you. You challenge me and give no quarter, and that only turns me on more. You constantly try to?—"

"Stop," I say through gritted teeth. "If you think you can sweet talk yourself into my pants?—"

"I’m not just thinking; I know I’m going to fuck you."

"Oh?" I scoff.

"You can deny it as much as you want, but there’s enough chemistry between us to light a bonfire without matches."

"A-n-d he’s poetic, too." I tap my finger to my cheek. "But that’s not going to make a difference."

"Hmm." He looks me up and down. "How about we play for it? You win the game, and I’ll let you leave. I win the game and?—"

"And?" I snap.

"And you kiss me, right here, right now."

"I thought you said, if I lose this game, I come out with you on a second date."

"Oh, that, too—" He smirks. "But first, you kiss me."

"Keep dreaming, buster. I’m not going to lose."

I toss my cue in his direction, and he snatches it.

I slide the button of my coat out of its eye, and his breath catches.

This is the true power I hold over him, and I am going to enjoy every single moment of his annihilation in this game.

I undo the next button, and his gaze follows my movement. I release the last button on my jacket, and the front falls open. I ease the jacket down my arms slowly, slowly, then hold it out to him. He transfers my cue to his other hand so he’s holding both my cue and his in the same hand, then takes my jacket from me. He brings it up to his face and sniffs it. A hot sensation springs to life between my legs. It’s not like he sniffed my panties, but oh, god, he might as well have. One side of his lips kicks up. He walks to the side and drapes it over the back of a chair. Before he’s done, I’m walking over to the pool table. I rack the eight balls, then position my ball in apex position.

I straighten, turn and gasp, for he’s standing next to me. And he’s only holding one cue. Huh?

"Aren’t you going to play?"

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