Damn him. He knows I won’t be able to resist playing no matter what the terms are. I can protest all I want, but he’ll call my bluff every time.

“Fine,” I say. “But I have a rule of my own.”

“Yes?” He’s enjoying this too much.

“No twisting words or rules to get your way,” I say. “None of your usual tricks. It’s cheating, and I consider it an automatic forfeit. You break—or even bend—the rules, and you lose. I win. I get the present and you aren’t allowed to argue.”

His eyes widen in mock offense. “Me? Cheat? I’m hurt you’d think me capable of such a thing.”

“Oh, please.” I grab a carton of steamed veggies and stab at them with my chopsticks. “You’re just pissed that I won’t let you pull any of your normal stunts.”

He grins. “Fine. No stunts. Does this mean you’ll play?”

Did he ever doubt it? I hold out my hand, and he grasps it in his own. We shake in agreement and then turn back to the food.

“So,” I say between bites of broccoli. “How do we begin?”

“That’s up to you. Would you like to take a guess or go for a hint?”

I consider my options. As much as I’d love to make a correct guess on the first try—just to wipe that smug look off of his face—I hardly know where to begin. What do guys get their girlfriends when they move in together? Housewares? A gift card to a home improvement store? Fancy champagne? But maybe it’s something a little less ordinary: something for our new shared bedroom, perhaps?

The problem is that there are a hundred things it could be, and it’s too risky to take a blind guess.

“I want a hint,” I say.

“And how do you plan on earning one?”

This is where things get tricky. I need to suggest something where I’ll have the upper hand. I look down at the food in front of us. At the “Kitchen” box. At the lingerie that still clings to my body.

“I propose a staring contest,” I say.

This seems to amuse him greatly. “A staring contest?”

“You heard me.” I prop my elbow on the counter and lean toward him. “Basic rules. Whoever blinks or looks away first loses.”

He smiles. “All right, then. Tell me when.”

I straighten and meet his gaze. No point in dragging this out. He looks so arrogant, so sure of himself, and I’d love nothing better than to shatter that confidence.

“Go.” The word is hardly more than a whisper, but I know he hears it. His pupils dilate and the corners of his eyes crinkle, but he holds my gaze.

For a long moment, he and I stare into each other’s eyes. I can tell from his expression that he thinks he has the upper hand here. I’ve only ever been average at best at staring contests, but this time I have an advantage and I’m not afraid to use it.

Without breaking his gaze, I reach up and slide one of the lacy straps off of my shoulder. His irises jerk slightly, and I know he’s spotted the movement at the very bottom of his field of vision, but he manages to maintain eye contact.

I remove the other strap next. From there, it’s a simple manner to pull my arms out of the lacy bands and to pull the lingerie down off of my chest.

The amusement deepens in Calder’s eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you?” The lingerie is around my waist now, and I reach up and slide my hand across my breast. My fingers move across the delicate skin of my areola, brushing against a nipple that’s already prickling in the cool air.

“I think,” he says, “that for all your accusations of cheating, you have no qualms about doing it yourself.”

“How am I cheating?” I say innocently. I close my thumb and forefinger around my nipple and give a little squeeze. I suck in a breath at the little jolt of pleasure, and Calder’s eyes twitch again in response, but he still doesn’t look down.

“You know exactly how you’re cheating,” he says. “You don’t need me to tell you.”

“I’m not cheating. I’m merely giving my breasts some fresh air.” I give my nipple another twist. “And a nice little massage.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“And how does it feel to know that I’m touching myself, right here under your nose, and you can’t even look?”

His eyes gleam. “I think two can play at this game, Lily.”

I sense movement out of the bottom edge of my eye, and I know that he’s not about to go down without a fight. I can’t tell exactly what he’s doing—unbuttoning his shirt, maybe?—but he won’t catch me so easily. Time to crank things up a notch.

“It’s so warm in here,” I say. “I think I’ll be more comfortable if I’m completely naked.” Carefully, so that I don’t accidentally break eye contact, I slide the lingerie down over my hips. I have no idea how much Calder can see without looking away, but I can tell he’s enjoying the show. His pupils are so large that his eyes look nearly black.

“Do you want me to get naked too?” he asks.

“I want you to imagine what you’re missing,” I say, giving my breast a final caress before moving my hand down my body. If he won’t look, then I’ll just have to describe it for him. “I’m sliding my hand down my stomach. Do you want to know where it’s going next?”

“Dare I ask?”

I lean toward him and drop my voice to a husky whisper. “I’m going to touch myself. I’m going to slide my fingers between my legs and stroke myself until—”

Calder moves quickly. Before I even have the chance to claim victory, he has me in his arms and is pressing me back against the counter.

“Fine,” he growls. “You win.”

He kisses me fiercely, then I laugh and wrap my arms around him as he buries his face in my hair. His hand sneaks down between my legs to the same place my own hand was only moments ago.

“Do I get my hint now?” I ask.

“In a minute.”

I laugh again. “At this rate we’re never going to get anything done.”

“That’s the point.” He moves his hand, and I consent to let his fingers continue their caresses.

After a moment, though, just when I’m growing breathless and weak in the knees, he lifts his head and says, “Ask me a question.”

“A question?”

“A ‘yes or no’ question about the present. I promise I’ll answer it truthfully. It’s a fair opportunity for a hint, I think.”




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