Score turned the board around, presenting the white side to her. She put her drink on one of the glass coasters in the corner of the coffee table.
“No,” he replied. “My father made my brothers and me play when we were kids. Said it was civilized.”
Shyla hadn’t expected such an open and honest answer; he could’ve stopped after no. Unsure if she should or not, she let her eyes ascend. Her hair was in the way, but she could see he was looking back at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I… I didn’t mean to assume…”
“Your questions are honest, Shy,” he said. “I don’t volunteer information. Most people are too afraid to ask anything straight out. Even when they do, there’s an ulterior motive behind it…” His eyes narrowed again. Although he didn’t move, she felt his attention probing her, trying to peer deeper into her. “I doubt you’ve ever had an ulterior motive for doing anything in your life.”
Resting a forearm on the table, she boosted a little higher to share her secret. “I used to go across town to this deli that did these crullers Stan loved,” she said, drawing out the last word. “He’d make such a big deal of being grateful I made the trip.” She grinned and lowered her volume further. “Truth is, they did this coconut iced mocha that was just…” Rising just to sag, she breathed out her bliss. “Oh, it was to die for.”
“Wow,” he said. For a second, she was sure sharing that made her sound like an idiot. That was until, to her shock and delight, one side of his mouth rose a fraction. “I take it back, you’re a real hustler, Lamb.”
Just seeing him attempt a smile was enough to make her grin. Laughing at herself helped relax the mood… for a few seconds anyway. The air began to crackle again when their eyes met. The light was so soft and her clothing so sparse…
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she cleared her throat, then shifted onto her knees and laid her hands flat on the table. “Okay, who goes white?”
He’d turned the board toward her, but it didn’t seem right that she should get the first move for nothing.
“You go first, Shy,” he said. She intended to object, but he spoke again. “You’ll always go first, baby… In everything we do.”
A zap of electricity shot down her spine. If she wasn’t already sensitive to the evening air on the silk covering her crotch, he’d just ignited her awareness. Her thighs began to tingle; she squeezed them tighter together.
Taking her time over her next inhale, Shyla tried to calm herself. “I love how you can do that,” she whispered, corkscrewing the end of her index finger into the point at the corner of the coffee table. “How you can touch me without touching me.”
“Easy, baby,” he soothed. “I said slow, didn’t I?”
Shyla didn’t know anything about the proper pace of seduction; she didn’t know what was fast and what was slow.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Make your move.” That seemed like a mixed signal. A spear of fright went through her. What the hell kind of move did she know that might impress him? When her gaze leaped to his, he must have read her terror because he nodded at the board. “Chess.”
Right. The game. They were playing chess.
Leaning over her forearms, Shyla moved her pawn. They each took a few turns without saying a word. Playing in silence felt like a missed opportunity. Since beginning her work, she hadn’t had many chances to get to know Score in his own words.
Still on the edge of the couch, his elbows were on his knees, his fist propped under his chin. It was a pose of concentration, though she didn’t think they would really be competing for the win.
“There’s something I’ve been trying to build up the courage to say for two weeks,” she said as he assessed the board and then made his move. “If you’ll let me?” He didn’t take his eyes from the board, but nodded once. Bracing herself, she cringed so much that one eye closed. “I’m sorry that I bit you… and for being a lush, if I was a lush.” His attention rose. “I… I’ve never done that before, any of it actually, going to a club, drinking cocktails… biting men… I’m really very sorry.”
One of his fingers curled up over his mouth. “I told you nothing happened.”
Forgetting the game, she rose higher, pressing her hands to the table to push up and get more height on her knees. “But something did happen…” Shyla heard herself pleading. “And I haven’t been able to stop wondering about it… I thought I didn’t want to know. I thought it was better not to, but the not knowing is worse. Please… Please tell me what happened that night. Please, Phoenix.”
His head jerked up at the sound of his name on her lips. For the first time, she read surprise on his face. Could be that she’d crossed a line… again. She sucked on her lower lip, praying he’d oblige her and not get mad.
After considering her for a moment, his brow relaxed into its usual hood over his eyes. “You’re right, something did happen.” Sucking harder, she waited; anxiety pounding in her belly, her palms sweating. “I made my decision to have you that night.”
Having not expected something profound or romantic, Shyla was taken aback. Her elbows bent, so she sank back to sit on her feet. “You… you did? Because I bit you?”
“Because no one has ever let themselves be that vulnerable around me. You weren’t afraid. You needed me. You let me give you what you needed without any fear. You didn’t fight me or question me or accuse me. You trusted me.”
In her
