Page 2 of Haunted By the Highwayman (Halloween Temptation #9)

I sit opposite Rick at the kitchen table.

We look at each other like a police interrogation, just a couple of feet of scrubbed pine table between us.

Cheap linoleum squeaks under my feet. The décor here hasn’t been changed in years.

The apartment, or flat as I’ve gotten used to calling it, is a little rundown, but cozy, especially since I’m sharing it with someone I know and trust. It feels like home.

This is a really bad idea. Rick is my friend, my roommate.

We shouldn’t mess with that dynamic. There are so many ways this game could go wrong.

But Rick’s face is determined. I know him; he won’t want to back down, no matter what card comes up.

What if we can’t look at each other tomorrow?

What if the friendship is ruined? Or what if it goes too well, and it feels like paradise, and I fall for him even harder?

And he turns around and acts like it was all a big joke? That would kill me.

Nerves claim me, butterflies fighting to escape my belly.

Rick is way out of my league. Who am I kidding, thinking I can keep up with him in a game of dare-sex, or sex-dare…

or whatever the hell you call this? He’s probably done things I haven’t even heard of.

My mouth feels drier than the Sahara as I think about it.

Going to the other ironic extreme, my palms are sweating.

I rub them on my pants, hoping Rick doesn’t notice.

His eyes are on me, intent and intense. He isn’t going to surrender.

So I should. Just stand up, right now. Go back to the dishes.

This is getting way too real. Loving him from afar is one thing.

Sitting here, about to play a game that could easily end in one of us drawing the FUCK card is another thing entirely.

I’m not ready for this. I can’t do this.

However. No one ever accused me of underthinking anything.

Right on cue, another voice starts up in my head.

This could be my only chance to play this game with Rick.

If I back down now, he’ll think I’m a coward.

He might even think that I’m disgusted by the idea of getting close to him.

And I have my pride, too. I don’t want to blink first.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he says.

“Nothing.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

He shuffles the cards, purposely facing them outward so I can read them and he can’t.

The whole time, I can’t take my eyes off his tan fingers, imagining them playing over my body.

This stupid card game has taken over my whole mind.

Now I feel incapable of thinking of Rick platonically even for a moment.

Words flick before my eyes, making me feel dizzy. KISS , ORAL … FUCK .

“Ready?” Rick says, with a crooked grin.

“Born ready.” I undermine the confident tone by nervously pushing my glasses up my nose.

Rick chuckles, a low, masculine rumble that sends electricity through me. I take a deep breath and try to get a hold of myself.

“How does this work, anyway? Did you read the rules card?”

Rick wrinkles his nose at me. I like that almost as much as watching his dimple appear and disappear.

“Rules?” he says, looking disgusted. I should’ve known better than to expect him to read. “Why don’t we just pick cards and whatever comes up, we do.”

Whatever comes up, we do . Sure, like it’s nothing. In a deck that includes a full variety of sex acts.

O-okay,” I squeak. “Who goes first?”

“I’ll flip a coin.”

He stands and grabs one from the little container we keep on the worktop, crossing half the kitchen in two athletic strides.

His body screams pure effortless power, built on years of sporty discipline.

He was a multi-sports college star and now he works as a consultant for one of those TV shows where sickeningly fit people throw themselves over and through a variety of obstacles.

He can complete the course himself in top-tier time.

Once he invited me to try it out, and I fell in the water at the first hurdle.

“Heads,” I say.

He makes a suggestive face at me, which I do my best to ignore. The coin lands on tails.

“Looks like you lose,” he says. “Pick a card.”

I’m not mad about losing. But I try not to look too happy about it, either.

Because I’m still not sure if he’s joking.

He couldn’t want me the way I want him. I don’t have the Greek god body, the cool job, the effortless self-assurance.

Hand shaking, I reach into the facedown pack to retrieve a card.

It says COLLAR .

My imagination takes off—picturing Rick’s strong fingers fastening a band of leather around my neck as I look up into his teasing hazel eyes. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. I swallow a scratchy lump in my throat, afraid to speak and give myself away.

“Well, what do you think?” he says. His voice is softer than I expected. Curious.

Not teasing?

I drag my gaze up to meet his eyes. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come.

“Are you okay there?” he says.

“Fine, fine.” Epic lie. I’m clenching my thighs together as hard as I can, desperate to keep my errant dick under control.

“So? Do you accept the dare, or do you forfeit?” Rick says.

“What happens if I forfeit?”

He shrugs. “I get to call you a loser forever.”

Always one for the small print, I read the card more closely. “It says here I have to wear the collar for forty-eight hours, and follow all your orders during that time.”

What the hell kind of game is this? It’s crazy, ridiculous.

Doing what Rick says for forty-eight hours?

Who knows what he’ll ask of me. It’s a prankster’s dream.

So why is my body so eager to submit to him?

My cock presses hard against my pants. My face feels like it’s flaming.

I’m expecting Rick to make a joke about my obvious arousal any time.

But he’s quiet. Unlike himself. He shifts in his seat.

And then I figure out what’s wrong. Is he struggling to control himself as much as I am?

Does he like the idea of me in a collar?

“Pretty harsh rules,” he says, fake offhand. His voice is low and husky. Not his usual lighthearted tone. He runs a hand over his dark stubble, fingers trembling a little.

“Where… where would we even get a collar?” I try to scoff.

He smiles. A smile with a touch of the predator in it. “Looking for an excuse to get out of it?”

“I’m not looking for an excuse! I just….”

We stare at each other across the table. The room goes very quiet. Even the TV from next door has quieted down.

“There’s an adult store down the street,” Rick says. “It opens late.”