Play My Game (11 page)
I shrug innocently.
“Can I open it?”
“Of course.”
He sits on the edge of the bed, and I climb on beside him. To be honest, I’m curious myself to see how it turned out. I’d managed to sneak time on the flight to Nassau to go over all the images that Sylvia took for me. I’d found my favorite, manipulated it in Photoshop to heighten the contrast so that my silhouette is even darker against the backdrop of the city, and to clean up the lingering glare from the glass.
Finally, I’d added text, a caption in lovely script on the left-hand side of the space so that it balanced my image on the right:
Anything you want. Anything you need.
I’d emailed the file to Sylvia with specific directions as to how to print it and frame it.
Now I can only hope that the end product is as lovely in real life as it is in my head.
Damien slowly unties the bow and sets the ribbon on the bed. Then he removes the wrapping paper to reveal the box. By now, I’m as anxious as if I were opening one of my own presents on Christmas morning, and I am biting my lower lip hard by the time he opens the box to reveal the framed photograph inside.
“Nikki.” He manages to fill my name with awe. “My god, Nikki, it’s stunning.”
“You like it?”
He’s been staring at it, but now he takes it out of the box, then turns to me, and I can see in his eyes that he likes it very much indeed. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”
“You’re a hard man to shop for, Mr. Stark,” I say. “I wanted to get you something special. Something us.”
He cups my cheek with his palm and kisses me softly. “You did. It’s beautiful. It’s you.”
He pulls me close and holds me tight. I hug him back, warmed by the fact that my single photograph—so small compared to a scavenger hunt and a spa retreat—has affected him so much.
“Thank you for my presents, too,” I say. “If I haven’t already said, I loved the treasure hunt, not to mention the retreat time with my husband.”
“As did I,” he said. “But that was more like an appetizer than the main course.”
I lean back and frown at him, not understanding what he is saying.
“How could I give you your Valentine’s Day present before Valentine’s Day?”
“But—” I close my mouth as I regroup. “Um, okay. So …”
He chuckles. “The third floor pantry,” Damien says. “Gregory assures me he put it in the pantry right before we arrived.”
The pantry?
Damien’s expression is both amused and smug. “Go on,” he says, and since I need no more encouragement, I bolt toward the kitchen, desperately curious as to what he could possibly have gotten me. A personal chef, maybe?
I tug open the door, and then clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream of delight.
There, curled up and purring on a cushion inside a wicker basket is the tiniest, orangest, most adorable kitten I have ever seen.
“Damien,” I whisper as the kitten opens its eyes, yawns, and stumbles out of the basket toward me. “Oh, my god, Damien.”
I glance back at him, and as I do, I notice the pile of cat food that I need to return to Jamie. Damien knew how much I missed having a cat around, and he got me a kitten.
I am overwhelmed. I’m in awe.
I’m in love.
“She doesn’t have a name yet,” Damien says, moving behind me and putting his hand on my shoulder. I scoop the kitten up, and am delighted when she immediately starts purring in my arms.
“She does,” I say, snuggling close to my husband. “Her name is Sunshine.”
We take Sunshine to the bed and the three of us pile on. I lean against Damien and laugh as we watch the kitten go through all her kitten-y antics. Attacking fingers and toes. Pouncing on imaginary prey. And generally being a bundle of cuteness until she wears herself out, turns in three circles, then settles down in the middle of the bed to purr herself to sleep.
“She’s wonderful,” I whisper as Damien leads me to the balcony. “She’s perfect.”
He stands behind me, his arms around my waist as I lean back against him. “She is,” he says, but what I hear is
We are.
I breathe deep, relishing the feel of him. It is a soft moment, nice and gentle, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Soon Damien’s hands slide beneath my shirt, and I draw in a breath as my skin tightens with longing and my heartbeat quickens.
He moves slowly, letting the anticipation grow, until his palms cover my breasts and he is stroking my nipples with his thumbs. The motion is almost casual, but my reaction is not. On the contrary, a wild heat is growing inside me, and if the press of his erection against my back is any indication, it is growing in Damien as well.
I murmur his name, and am rewarded by his soft “Shhh. Just relax.” Easier said than done, but I close my eyes and let the sensation of Damien’s expert touch take over, taking me all the way to the edge until, finally, he pushes me over and I explode in his arms as the sun sets on our first Valentine’s Day.
I’m curled up in bed, wearing nothing but Damien’s Wimbledon T-shirt, one leg tossed negligently across his thigh as I lick a chocolate ice cream–covered spoon.
Beside me, Damien has his laptop open and is scouring the internet as the kitten attacks our toes with military-like determination. “Still nothing,” Damien says, squirming a bit under Sunshine’s assault.
“Then it worked. You didn’t pay, and they didn’t release the photos or the tape.”
“Looks that way,” Damien says, though he doesn’t look as happy about it as I feel.
“You still want to know who’s behind it.”
“Very much,” he says.
“You’ll find them. Ryan’s on it, right?”
“He is. And eventually we’ll find them.”
“Damn right, you will,” I say. “So worry about it tomorrow. I don’t want those stupid threats touching any more of our day than they already have.”
“Touché, Mrs. Stark.” He sets the laptop aside, and grabs the red ribbon. He holds on to one end and tosses the ribbon toward the cat, who is immediately fascinated. She stares at the wiggling end of the ribbon, her eyes wide and her orange fur spiked out in attack mode. Damien and I both hold our breath, swallowing laughter as her little butt wiggles, her tail spiky. Finally—after much observation—she pounces, attacking the end of the ribbon with all the panache of a jaguar going after its prey.
I laugh, delighted, and she abandons the ribbon just long enough to flop onto her back and wiggle.
Damien reaches down and scratches her belly and is rewarded by the kitten grabbing hold and gnawing his hand. He grins at me, and my heart melts a little.
“I could have sworn you told me you didn’t want us to turn domestic,” I tease.
“Is that what this is?” he asks, taking the ribbon and wiggling it again. “Domesticity?”
I offer him a spoonful of ice cream. “Yeah. I think it is.”
He licks the spoon, then takes my finger and dips it into the ice cream. Then he offers my finger to the kitten, who runs her rough little tongue over it, making me laugh again. “In that case,” Damien says, “I’ve changed my mind. I like domesticity very much.”
“I like it, too,” I say, snuggling closer. “And I love you.”
He brushes a soft kiss across my lips and we lay together as the kitten climbs over us to find a spot on the pillow. And as the little ball of fluff settles in and starts to purr, I sigh with satisfaction.
This is us.
This is our life.
And it is exceptional.
J. Kenner is the
New York Times
bestselling author of the Stark trilogy, including
Release Me, Claim Me,
and
Complete Me,
and the tie-in novellas
Take Me
,
Have Me
, and
Play My Game
, and the Most Wanted series, comprised of
Wanted
,
Heated
, and
Ignited
. She spent more than ten years as a litigator in Southern California and central Texas, using her rare free time to indulge in her passion of writing. She lives in Texas with her husband and daughters.
Fall in love with the irresistible, emotionally charged romance of Damien Stark and Nikki Fairchild …
Release Me
He was the one man I couldn’t avoid
.
And the one man I couldn’t resist
.
Damien Stark could have his way with any woman.
He was sexy, confident, and commanding: anything he wanted, he got. And what he wanted was me.
Our attraction was unmistakable, almost beyond control, but as much as I ached to be his, I feared the pressures of his demands. Submitting to Damien meant I had to bare the darkest truth about my past – and risk breaking us apart.
But Damien was haunted, too. And as our passion came to obsess us both¸ his secrets threatened to destroy him – and us – for ever.
Claim Me
For Damien, our obsession is a game
.
For me, it is fiercely, blindingly, real
.
Damien Stark’s need is palpable – his need for pleasure, his need for control, his need for me. Beautiful and brilliant yet tortured at his core, he is in every way my match.
I have agreed to be his alone, and now I want him to be fully mine. I want us to possess each other beyond the sweetest edge of our ecstasy, into the deepest desires of our souls. To let the fire that burns between us consume us both.
But there are dark places within Damien that not even our wildest passion can touch. I yearn to know his secrets, for him to surrender to me as I have surrendered to him. But our troubled pasts will either bind us close … or shatter us completely.
Complete Me
Our desire runs deep
.
But our secrets cut close
.
Beautiful, strong, and commanding, Damien Stark fills a void in me that no other man can touch. His fierce cravings push me beyond the brink of bliss – and unleash a wild passion that utterly consumes us both.
Yet beneath his need for dominance, he carries the wounds of a painful past. Haunted by a legacy of dark secrets and broken trust, he seeks release in our shared ecstasy, the heat between us burning stronger each day.
Our attraction is undeniable, our obsession inevitable.
But not even Damien can run from his ghosts, or shield us from the dangers yet to come.
Take Me
Our wedding approaches
.
But our past still threatens
.
I’ve long dreamed of my fairy tale wedding, but it wasn’t until I met Damien Stark that I began to believe it was my destiny. Though we both carry secrets and scars, our shared passion heals us, binding us together. Our mutual ecstasy is the brightest light in my life.
But darkness still snakes through the cracks in our armour.
Ghosts from our past have moved in, bringing fresh pain that cuts deep and threatens to destroy everything we hold dear.
Damien is my anchor to this world, and I am his. But if we are going to keep each other, we have to fight the shadows of our pasts to move forward into our future.
Have Me
Happy Ever After is just the beginning …
Our wedding was everything I dreamed of, and now the honeymoon is a living fantasy. To be Mrs Damien Stark is the ultimate rush – to know that our claim to each other is real, our fierce passion sealing our bond. My kiss is forever his, his touch is forever mine.
We both harbor deep scars from our pasts, and we’ve done everything we can to lay our ghosts to rest. But there are still dreams that haunt me, and people that threaten to tear us apart.
Our shared ecstasy makes me feel alive, and I’ll do anything to keep Damien close. He is my future, my hope, my every want and need. And once you’ve tasted that kind of obsession, nothing can make you give it up.
New York Times
bestselling author J. Kenner kicks off a smoking hot, emotionally compelling new erotic trilogy that returns to the world of her beloved Stark novels:
Release Me, Claim Me,
and
Complete Me
.
Say My Name
Featuring Jackson Steele, a strong-willed man who goes after what he wants, and Sylvia Brooks, a disciplined woman who’s hard to get—and exactly who Jackson needs.
Read on for an excerpt.
The
thwump-thwump
of the helicopter’s rotors fills my head like a whisper, a secret message that I cannot escape.
Not him, not now. Not him, not now.
But I know damn well that my plea is futile, my words flat. I can’t run. I can’t hide. I can only continue as I am—hurtling at over a hundred miles per hour on a collision course with a destiny I thought I had escaped five years ago. And with the man I’d left behind.
A man I tell myself I no longer want—but can’t deny that I desperately need.
I clutch my fingers tighter around the copy of
Architectural Digest
in my lap. I do not need to look down to see the man on the cover. He is as vivid in my mind today as he was back then. His hair a glossy black, with just the slightest hint of copper when the sun hits it just so. His eyes so blue and deep you could drown in them.
On the magazine, he sits casually on the corner of a desk, his dark gray trousers perfectly creased. His white shirt pressed. His cuff links gleaming. Behind him, the Manhattan skyline rises, framed in a wall of glass. He exudes determination and confidence, but in my mind’s eye, I see even more.
I see sensuality and sin. Power and seduction. I see a man with his shirt collar open, his tie hanging loose. A man completely at home in his own skin, who commands a room simply by entering it.
I see the man who wanted me.
