Page 84 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

“Good.” I kissed his cold lips and smiled.

“What is this games thing? I never agreed to play games.”

“There are a ton of games in the hall closet. Monopoly, Risk, Parcheesi, and yes…Scrabble.”

He groaned aloud. “You said sex too, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Pierce nodded thoughtfully. “We should probably start there.”

I flashed a saucy grin as I stood and held out my hand.

We spentthe weekend in our own little world. We made every meal together—simple things like pancakes, sandwiches, and pasta. I was the head chef and Pierce was the chief stirrer and chopper. He rolled his eyes when I praised his julienned carrots for our salad and called him my right-hand man. He called me a pest, but the twinkle in his eyes made me think he didn’t mind so much.

Games were a harder sell.

After some serious cajoling in the form of sexual favors, Pierce agreed to Scrabble. He hated Monopoly, didn’t have the patience to learn Risk, and kept putting the marbles from the Parcheesi game in his eye sockets, so…Scrabble.

We set up the board on the coffee table in front of the fireplace, drank Pinot, and nibbled on homemade chocolate chip cookies. And then I kicked his ass. I tried not to gloat, but he was so fun to tease and he hadn’t quite mastered the concept of using higher-scoring letters to his advantage.

“How the fuck is tint a twenty-point word and jump is only nineteen?” he griped.

“It’s all about placement, honey,” I singsonged, tallying my score on a notepad I’d found in the kitchen.

“Ah, never mind. I have the perfect word.” He smirked as he proudly lined four letters on a triple-letter, double-word spot. “F-u-c-k.”

I shook my head contritely. “Sorry. No swear words allowed. Try again.”

“Why the fuck not? Fuck is in the fucking dictionary.” He narrowed his eyes and glared. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m just waiting for you to throw another fuck in.”

“I am out of fucks,” he pouted, switching the F for a D. “Here. Have a duck.”

Laughter bubbled and burst out of me in an embarrassing snort. I doubled over, giggling like a school kid drunk on a steady diet of Coke and Skittles.

Pierce joined in, then picked me up around my waist and pulled me on top of him on the sofa, tickling my sides till I howled and nearly kicked him in the nuts. He tossed the cushions to the floor, accidentally upending the board. Tiny wooden letter tiles scattered everywhere. We froze for a moment, our gazes locked and our hearts beating a matching wild tattoo.

I closed my eyes and took a mental snapshot. I never wanted to forget this feeling. Unchecked joy with a new lover who felt like an old friend. When I opened them again, Pierce had shifted to cover me completely. I lifted my right leg over the sofa to make room for him, sighing at the delicious feel of his weight and his thick cock resting alongside mine.

I wanted him all over again. It didn’t seem to matter how often we found ourselves in this position. It never got old.

He rolled slightly and slipped his hand under my T-shirt, tracing slow circles under my rib cage. He flattened his palm and pushed the elastic of my boxer briefs and pajama bottoms with the tips of his fingers. I swallowed hard, mesmerized by his patience. The anticipation was an aphrodisiac. My cock swelled and my breath came out in a jagged hitch.

“What are you waiting for?” I whispered.

Pierce didn’t respond. He sat up quickly, yanked off his tee, and stepped out of his sweatpants. He wore socks and nothing else. That might not sound sexy, but Pierce was a fucking fantasy come to life. Tall, dark, handsome, and hard as a rock. I licked my lips, watching the sway of his cock as he climbed on top of me.

He rocked his hips suggestively and captured my mouth. Our tongues tangled as we moved, grinding out a sweet, steady rhythm. I still had two layers too many on, and though I was desperate to be skin to skin, I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to savor this.

The crackle of the firewood in the hearth and the sound of waves breaking in the distance were the perfect soundtrack to passionate kisses and hungry writhing.

I whimpered when he pulled away, nipping my lip between his teeth.

“Want you,” he purred. “Want you…again and again.”

“Yes. Have me. Right here.”