Page 73 of Risky Game

He held a tumbler loosely in one hand, and the glass rattled like a gunshot through the living room. After a sip, he set it back down.

I was still standing in the living room, gaping at him, and he appeared, like usual, wholly unbothered by my presence.

“Come sit,” he finally said, and I moved.

And he had to be joking. There was no way I’d stayed still until he told me what to do. This was getting out of control. I took a seat in the middle of the couch because I wanted to enjoy a glass of wine before bed and curled my feet under me.

“Amelia go down okay?”

“Out before I finished the first book. All that playing exhausted her.” His stoic expression was doing crazy things to my stomach. To my core. If he was mad at me, he wasn’t showing it. If he wanted me to strip naked and rock his world, he didn’t seem in too large of a rush.

It was the unknowing that was driving me crazy.

I sipped my wine. He took a drink of his drink, whiskey it looked like.

“How was your weekend?” he asked. The gentle, deep rumble of his voice washed over me like a warm blanket. Soothing me. Warming me.

God. This was dangerous.

“It was good.” I shuffled my feet beneath me for no other reason than he was making me antsy. “Yours?”

For the first time since I left on Friday, a genuine smile broke loose. Small, but there. “Amelia and I went shopping. You’ll see it tomorrow, but we bought a kayak and some stand-up paddleboards. Spent every morning on the lake. Don’t be surprised if Amelia begs you to take her out.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“I thought of you the entire time.” And he didn’t sound like he liked that much.

“Oh?”

“Wondered if you’d want to be out there with us. Wondered if there was any way I’d be able to fuck you in the kayak.”

Probably an impossibility, but my mind was spinning with possibilities. “You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I wasn’t happy you left all weekend, no. You left me to take care of myself all weekend.”

“And you denied me.”

“You didn’t have to listen.”

Shit. He was right. “I wanted to please you,” I admitted, so softly, it surprised me.

Another grin broke loose, this one darker, no less pleased. “Good girl. I liked that you did.”

“Shit,” I rasped as a pulse started in my core. I was liking this. The sir and the bossing and the good girl made my nipples feel like they were being pinched. Hard.

“If I asked you to come sit on my lap while you have that wine, would you?”

I was already moving my feet. He knew the answer. Had to have.

I scrambled to my feet and felt my sex pulse with need with every small step it took me to reach him. When I did, he spread his legs, helped me down onto his lap so my thighs were draped over his, and my shoulder rested against his chest. His hand cupped the back of my head and he curled his fingers in, grabbing my hair and tugging my head back.

Sparks of pleasure erupted down my spine with his firm, commanding hold and I couldn’t hide them from him as he pressed kisses to my throat, my shoulder, back to my jaw. My body shivered under the brief touches of lips against me.

He stopped, brought his whiskey to his lips, and sipped.

“What do you want to do now?” I asked.

“Drink your wine and let me play.”

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