Page 88 of Savannah Royals
I pass through several rooms before finding Matt’s pool table, and I smile, running a finger along the thick mahogany edge. There’s a credenza in the corner, topped with a glittering array of bottles and decanters. Remotely, I peruse the labels. There are some good ones here. Expensive.
Not that I’m surprised.
I sink down on a velvet couch, staring at the pool table. My eyes trace the craftsmanship as I think about Matthew, about him trusting me to come here for the first time, unsupervised. I think about his bedroom, a few paces down the hall. I imagine his bed, himinhis bed…
I swallow a shiver. Love and desire make good bedfellows.
Finally, I think about Matthew at the hospital. The quick, self-assured movement of his hands. The casual flick of his hair. The concern and attention in his blue eyes.
Love rises, rushing in. Deep and unrelenting. An undertow I can no longer fight.
I make a decision.
I cross to the pool table to rack up the balls. I grab a crystal decanter of whiskey and put my lips directly to the mouth, sucking it down. Then, whiskey still in hand, I steal into the back hallway. I drag my free fingers along the patterned wall, tracing gold, until I reach his bedroom.
A large, four-poster bed dominates the space…or perhaps just my attention. There’s a discarded white undershirt on top of the sheets, likely one Matthew slept in. With a solidthunk,I place the decanter on the bedside table, then pull the undershirt over my dress.
I cross to the closet and slip two button-up shirts from hangers. I put them both on. Then a jacket on top. I repeat the layering technique on my bottom half. Finally, I select a discarded fedora to complete my look. Grabbing the decanter and taking another sip, I return to the room with the pool table and chalk up the stick. There’s a phonograph on an end table in the corner, so I aimlessly select a record and set the needle to spin. As the notes of a classical requiem fill the air, I settle in to wait.
The distant rattle of the front door announces his arrival. I hold my position, leaning on the table.
“Kat?” he calls.
“Back here.”
His footsteps echo from room to room, searching for me. When he reaches the doorway, he pauses. His white physician’s coat is slung over one arm, the buttons of his shirt undone at the collar. “Kat? What…what are you wearing?” He squints and walks closer, tossing his coat over the arm of the velvet love seat.
“I want to play pool.”
“Okay…are we playing in the arctic?” He gestures to my getup and laughs.
“No.” I give him a small smile. “But we’re going to play my way tonight. It’s a little different from our usual game.” I hold his gaze, trying to make the suggestionclear in my eyes.
“Oh really?” Intrigue flashes. “And what way, pray tell, is that?”
I cock my head. “The way that gets me exactly what I want. One piece of clothing at a time.”
A long silence. Nothing but eye contact, promise, and unfathomable desire between us. Swelling with every breath, with every pining note from the phonograph.
“That sounds like a dangerous game, Katarina.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“All right.” He licks his lips. “Let me layer myself up, and we’ll get started.”
“No.” I grab his suspenders, stopping him. “You don’t get to put on another stitch of clothing. This is the only way it’s fair.”
“It doesn’t seem fair.” He bats the brim of the fedora for emphasis. “Though I do have home-field advantage. My table, my balls.”
I reach down and boldly place my hand over his crotch. “Myballs tonight, I think.”
He kisses me. Fiercely. So fiercely, I almost abandon the game entirely and yank him onto the table here and now.
“I’ll break,” he whispers, pulling away to pick up the pool cue. He spots the crystal decanter of whiskey on the edge of the table. Sees my lipstick marks on the mouth. He keeps his eyes on mine as he swallows his own big sip. Then he bends over the table and fires off a smattering break. A solid ball rolls into a side pocket in the scattering. Matt leans on the table. Expectant.
“Don’t get too excited.” With a laugh, I swipe off the fedora and flick it at him. He catches it midair, then tosses it to the ground.
“I’m only just getting started, Katarina. I have a lot of ground to cover.” Briefly, he eyes my ridiculous layers, then turns his attention to the table. He takes aim at another solid and drops it into a nearby pocket.
