Page 24 of Reckless Games

“Midnight.”

I nod, loving the sound of it on her lips. Someday we’ll get to the point where she’ll need to use it. But not right now. I’m too in tune, too desperate to figure out what makes her tick. This week, all I care about is learning everything there is to know about her and her body.

I light a match, and she jumps ever so slightly as I bring the flame to the candle. “Spread your legs, baby girl.”

Even if she’s nervous, she does as she’s told. Strong as her will is, she’s secretly desperate to submit to me.

Her feet stay planted on the couch as she tips her knees open. Her pussy is barely covered in lace, and through it, I can make out the shape of the vibrator sitting inside her.

Blowing out the match, I wait for the candle to melt. For streaks of wax to slowly bubble and run in hot rivers down the stick.

“I never decorated trees as a kid,” I tell her. “Did you?”

Lake’s nose scrunches at what must seem like a ridiculous question, before she slowly nods her head.

“Did you have a favorite ornament?”

“Yes.” The faintest smile ticks in the corner of her mouth.

It's beautiful, like her. And if her appearance was all that drew me to her, I wouldn’t be in so much trouble. But it’s not.

I’m fascinated with how grilled cheese can be her favorite meal. How she finds importance in the most insignificant things.

My whole life I’ve been raised to believe money and power are what define what is worthy of my interest. But Lake doesn’t care how much something costs or how important someone is. What interests her can’t be defined by money or status.

I need to know why.

What makes her care and what’s drawing her to me?

“Tell me about the ornament.” I tip the candle and watch the wax continue to melt.

“My sister and I used to fight over this reindeer.” She shifts in anticipation, knowing what’s coming. “It was missing an antler, and its fake fur was matted from Dad accidentally spilling eggnog on it. But it was our favorite.”

She shakes her head, something edging heartbreak and happy memories filling her face.

“It’s silly.”

“It’s not.”

It might be my favorite thing I’ve learned about her. She cares even if it's broken and worthless. I want to know what it is that makes something important to her.

“It is.” She nudges my leg with her foot. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s still my favorite.”

“Do you still hang it up every year? Or does your sister have it?”

She shakes her head, and something darker fills her expression. “I lost it when I was twelve. But it’s the memories that count, right?”

Her entire demeanor shifts, and I’ve never needed to know so badly what could cause it. But I know better than to push. It’s a game. One wrong move and I’ll send her running.

“Enough about me, what about you?” She buries her sadness with a forced smile. “Did you do anything to celebrate the holidays when you were younger? Or were you always a Grinch?”

“Grinch?” I cock an eyebrow. “I’m the one hosting a holiday party if you didn’t notice.”

“How giving of you.” She bites her lip, just as a woman across the room screams out in pleasure. “Very Christmassy.”

“My family wasn’t big on the holidays.” Leaning forward, I hold the candle up over her thigh, and she swallows hard as she watches. “Then again, maybe I just hadn’t found anything worth celebrating—worth decorating—yet.”

Tipping the candle, the wax drips onto her bare thigh, and Lake jumps at the sudden burn of the wax on her flesh. I hold her thigh in place as it dribbles over her. Forcing her to feel every drop as it hits her skin. She knows the word to stop me, but she doesn’t use it.

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