Page 123 of Let the Game Begin

“Just that all a man needs to do is give you a wink, pretend to be a gentleman, pour on the compliments, and off you go with him,” he said, finally looking me in the eyes.

He sounded calm, but it felt like he was in the mood to hurt me, like I was no longer the Selene of the other night, the one he had kissed and touched right there where he was now sitting.

“And what’s wrong with that? It’s not like I slept with him.” I raised myvoice in vexation. I didn’t even know why we were talking about Kyle or what purpose this ridiculous conversation served.

“Don’t get upset about it, Tinkerbell. You’re a woman, and as such, you’re weak when it comes to men.” He ground out the butt in the ashtray and spit the last plume of smoke into the air with an arrogant certainty that got right under my skin.

“To men in general?” I repeated in surprise. “The only man I’ve allowed to violate my boundaries thus far is the asshole I’m arguing with right now. I’m sorry, Neil, but I happen to find Kyle interesting because I can talk to him, because he’s cultured, and because I like cultured men who can carry on a conversation.” I was praising Kyle just to further provoke Neil. His reaction to all of this was completely incomprehensible to me, but I had no intention of letting him walk all over me.

“Cultured…” He got to his feet, looming so far above me that I had to tilt my head back to look into his face. The certainty I had felt up until that point was starting to wane. I felt a sudden wash of helplessness, and I could only attribute it to his imposing size, which, unfortunately, was having exactly the effect he was hoping for: I was intimidated.

Neil moved closer, and I breathed in slowly, smelling his body wash. He leaned down to my ear and parted his lips.

“Some people—and I am one of them—hate happy ends. We feel cheated. Harm is the norm,” he whispered, leaving me speechless. “That’s what your beloved Nabokov said,” he added in a sensual tone, the heat of his breath traversing the collar of my coat and moving down my body, all the way to center of me.

Then, he pulled away just far enough to look me in the eye, and he smiled because he had demonstrated something about himself that I hadn’t known before.

“You’ve read Nabokov?” I murmured softly, like a child afraid to speak. I was definitely surprised.

“If you want to know something more about me, you have to give me something of yourself in return,” he answered, walking off toward the pool house.

Two minutes later, I found myself inside the pool house, taking in its homeyfurnishings. The walls were bright; a large glass door led out onto the outdoor patio and the pool. There was a kitchen in one corner with a large fridge, a stove, and a breakfast bar complete with stools. The dining table was small, though, and tucked between the kitchen and the larger room, right where I was standing, gaping like a fish. There was a modern pellet fireplace, an enormous plasma screen, a wall storage unit, and a white leather sofa in the corner.

Finally, a door led into the infamous bedroom, which had an attached bathroom. In short, the pool house was a real luxury, small but extremely comfortable. Matt’s money was well spent.

“You seem tense.” Neil opened the fridge and grabbed a can of beer, which he opened and lifted to his mouth. I wasn’t just tense; I was extremely anxious.

“Make yourself at home,” he added, glancing at the coat I was still wearing and the bag that still hung from my shoulder. I followed his advice and put both my coat and bag on the coat rack by the door. I glanced around before tugging down the hem of the sweater I was wearing over my basic, light-wash jeans. I rubbed my hands together, and after spotting the gesture, Neil pointed at the fireplace.

“That’ll warm you up, though…” He advanced on me slowly, leaving his beer on the bar. “I do know some other ways to fix that problem,” he said, shamelessly looking my body up and down with a disappointed expression on his face.

“Wh-what is it?” I stammered, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Don’t you ever wear skirts?” His golden eyes came back to my face as he waited for my response.

“Should I? I don’t really like them.” And I didn’t understand this absurd question. Was he trying to dictate how I dressed?

I backed away from him and examined the living room to buy myself some time.

“I don’t dress the way your lovers do. Is that what’s bothering you? Do you not like my look? Is it too…babyish?” I teased him, while I looked at the colorful painting mounted right above the fireplace. Then, I turned to face him, displaying an uncharacteristic confidence that I was mostly just pretending to possess.

He seemed far away, yet he was slowly undressing me with his eyes. I caught him staring at my ass, outlined clearly in my tight jeans as well as the curves of my body, highlighted by my thin sweater. I thought about how many times his hands had traced over those same curves.

“Do you want to play a game?” he suggested, and his low voice didn’t bode well at all.

“What kind of game?” I asked in a feeble voice.

Neil walked over to me and touched my cheek, making me go rigid.

“You’re too tense.” He kissed my neck and fit our bodies together. He brushed his lips along my jaw and then exhaled against my mouth, locking eyes with me.

“I don’t want to go into that bedroom. I don’t want to go to the same place you take everyone else.” I made myself very clear, my voice low, although I quivered when his hand continued touching my cheek. He smiled and slid his fingers along my arm, pulling a gasp from me.

“You’re already in the same place I take everyone,” he whispered in my ear. “But we can stay on the couch, if you prefer,” he added.

Whatever game we were about to play, I already knew it was going to involve both of us getting naked.

He backed away, and I felt cold where his hand had been. He vanished into the bedroom and returned a few moments later, toying with something in his cupped hand.