Sweet Victory: A Novella (His Wicked Games #2.5) (3 page)

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” I grab the cup of wine and pull it toward me to inspect the contents. “Given our history.”

He laughs. “I was hungry. Starving. You helped me work up quite an appetite.” He reaches over and plays with the shoulder strap of my lingerie, sliding his finger beneath the band of lace. “And I thought we should sit down and discuss the rules before we begin.”

“Rules?”

“They’re generally a good idea, yes.” He withdraws his hand and picks up his own cup of wine. “Would you like to hear them?”

I sip at my merlot. “I’m listening.”

He leans back, satisfied. “In this game, you have to guess what my surprise is.”

That
doesn’t sound too complicated. “How many guesses do I get?”

“As many as you like. But I warn you—you’ll pay for the wrong ones.”

Ah, I see where this is going.

“And what sort of payment will you be demanding?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“If I told you, it would ruin the fun.” He regards me with amusement over the rim of his cup. “But I’ll tell you this: I will enjoy it very much.”

“So I’ll just be blindly guessing? Do I get any hints? Or is this just some elaborate plan to get me to agree to be at your mercy?”

“I’ll grant you a few hints,” he says. “But you’ll have to earn them.”

“How?”

“Make me a challenge. If you win, you can ask me for a hint. If I win, you have to do something for me.”

I roll my eyes. “This whole thing sounds a little skewed in your favor.”

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to play?”

Damn him
. He knows I won’t be able to resist playing no matter what the terms are. I can protest all I want, but he’ll call my bluff every time.

“Fine,” I say. “But I have a rule of my own.”

“Yes?” He’s enjoying this too much.

“No twisting words or rules to get your way,” I say. “None of your usual tricks. It’s cheating, and I consider it an automatic forfeit. You break—or even
bend
—the rules, and you lose. I win. I get the present and you aren’t allowed to argue.”

His eyes widen in mock offense. “Me? Cheat? I’m hurt you’d think me capable of such a thing.”

“Oh, please.” I grab a carton of steamed veggies and stab at them with my chopsticks. “You’re just pissed that I won’t let you pull any of your normal stunts.”

He grins. “Fine. No stunts. Does this mean you’ll play?”

Did he ever doubt it? I hold out my hand, and he grasps it in his own. We shake in agreement and then turn back to the food.

“So,” I say between bites of broccoli. “How do we begin?”

“That’s up to you. Would you like to take a guess or go for a hint?”

I consider my options. As much as I’d love to make a correct guess on the first try—just to wipe that smug look off of his face—I hardly know where to begin. What do guys get their girlfriends when they move in together? Housewares? A gift card to a home improvement store? Fancy champagne? But maybe it’s something a little less
ordinary
: something for our new shared bedroom, perhaps?

The problem is that there are a hundred things it could be, and it’s too risky to take a blind guess.

“I want a hint,” I say.

“And how do you plan on earning one?”

This is where things get tricky. I need to suggest something where I’ll have the upper hand. I look down at the food in front of us. At the “Kitchen” box. At the lingerie that still clings to my body.

“I propose a staring contest,” I say.

This seems to amuse him greatly. “A staring contest?”

“You heard me.” I prop my elbow on the counter and lean toward him. “Basic rules. Whoever blinks or looks away first loses.”

He smiles. “All right, then. Tell me when.”

I straighten and meet his gaze. No point in dragging this out. He looks so arrogant, so sure of himself, and I’d love nothing better than to shatter that confidence.

“Go.” The word is hardly more than a whisper, but I know he hears it. His pupils dilate and the corners of his eyes crinkle, but he holds my gaze.

For a long moment, he and I stare into each other’s eyes. I can tell from his expression that he thinks he has the upper hand here. I’ve only ever been average at best at staring contests, but this time I have an advantage and I’m not afraid to use it.

Without breaking his gaze, I reach up and slide one of the lacy straps off of my shoulder. His irises jerk slightly, and I know he’s spotted the movement at the very bottom of his field of vision, but he manages to maintain eye contact.

I remove the other strap next. From there, it’s a simple manner to pull my arms out of the lacy bands and to pull the lingerie down off of my chest.

The amusement deepens in Calder’s eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you?” The lingerie is around my waist now, and I reach up and slide my hand across my breast. My fingers move across the delicate skin of my areola, brushing against a nipple that’s already prickling in the cool air.

“I think,” he says, “that for all your accusations of cheating, you have no qualms about doing it yourself.”

“How am I cheating?” I say innocently. I close my thumb and forefinger around my nipple and give a little squeeze. I suck in a breath at the little jolt of pleasure, and Calder’s eyes twitch again in response, but he still doesn’t look down.

“You know exactly how you’re cheating,” he says. “You don’t need me to tell you.”

“I’m not cheating. I’m merely giving my breasts some fresh air.” I give my nipple another twist. “And a nice little massage.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“And how does it feel to know that I’m touching myself, right here under your nose, and you can’t even look?”

His eyes gleam. “I think two can play at this game, Lily.”

I sense movement out of the bottom edge of my eye, and I know that he’s not about to go down without a fight. I can’t tell exactly what he’s doing—unbuttoning his shirt, maybe?—but he won’t catch me so easily. Time to crank things up a notch.

“It’s so warm in here,” I say. “I think I’ll be more comfortable if I’m completely naked.” Carefully, so that I don’t accidentally break eye contact, I slide the lingerie down over my hips. I have no idea how much Calder can see without looking away, but I can tell he’s enjoying the show. His pupils are so large that his eyes look nearly black.

“Do you want me to get naked too?” he asks.

“I want you to imagine what you’re missing,” I say, giving my breast a final caress before moving my hand down my body. If he won’t look, then I’ll just have to describe it for him. “I’m sliding my hand down my stomach. Do you want to know where it’s going next?”

“Dare I ask?”

I lean toward him and drop my voice to a husky whisper. “I’m going to touch myself. I’m going to slide my fingers between my legs and stroke myself until—”

Calder moves quickly. Before I even have the chance to claim victory, he has me in his arms and is pressing me back against the counter.

“Fine,” he growls. “You win.”

He kisses me fiercely, then I laugh and wrap my arms around him as he buries his face in my hair. His hand sneaks down between my legs to the same place my own hand was only moments ago.

“Do I get my hint now?” I ask.

“In a minute.”

I laugh again. “At this rate we’re never going to get anything done.”

“That’s the point.” He moves his hand, and I consent to let his fingers continue their caresses.

After a moment, though, just when I’m growing breathless and weak in the knees, he lifts his head and says, “Ask me a question.”

“A question?”

“A ‘yes or no’ question about the present. I promise I’ll answer it truthfully. It’s a fair opportunity for a hint, I think.”

I consider this while I reach down and pull up the lingerie. On the one hand, he’s allowing me to lead the discussion—which, if I’m smart, should give me a nice advantage—but alternately, it provides a greater opportunity for failure, too. If I ask the right question I might be able to make a solid guess immediately, but if I ask the wrong one, I’ll be left without any useful information at all. Should I ask about the gift’s size? Purpose? Shape? Restricting it to ‘yes or no’ questions makes it a little more difficult.

I decide to take a chance.

“Is my gift currently in this apartment?” I ask.

His brow creases. “I must admit, that’s not the sort of question I was expecting.”

“No?” I say, flashing him a smile. I think it’s a
brilliant
question, if I do say so myself.

Calder is studying me carefully. His shirt is still unbuttoned, and I reach over and run a finger down his chest.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” I say. “Remember—no tricks.”

He catches my hand. “I’m afraid that you’re trying to trick
me
. But to answer your question—yes. Yes, it’s in this apartment. I should think that was obvious.”

“Perhaps, but now I’m sure.” His confirmation has proved several things: first, that his present is a
physical
object—not a “favor” or some other intangible thing. Secondly, it’s a physical object that’s small enough to fit within these walls—so no shiny new BMW with a giant bow. Not that that’s the sort of thing I’d want anyway. Calder knows me better than that.

And if the gift’s in this apartment, then it’s not in plain sight. At least, I think I would have noticed a giant wrapped box in the middle of the floor. That means it’s stuffed away somewhere else. In a suitcase, perhaps, or hidden among our other things.

I turn and stride back into the living room. Calder follows.

“What are you doing?” he says.

“Just having a quick look around.”

“Sounds like cheating.”

“Oh, please. You never specified that I couldn’t do a little investigating.” I flick open the top of the nearest cardboard box. He wouldn’t risk damaging the present by packing it poorly, so wherever he’s hidden it, it’s probably on top of his other things. I find nothing but books in the first box, so I move on to another.

“You think you’re very clever,” he muses.

“You’re just angry because your game isn’t working out the way you expected.”

The second box has a bunch of odds and ends, but nothing resembling a gift. On to the third. But before I can get it open, Calder has me by the waist.

“Hey,” I say, batting at him. “What are you—”

Before I can finish, the world flips around me. Suddenly I’m over Calder’s shoulder, his strong arm around my waist to hold me in place.

“Put me down!” I say.

“I don’t think so.”

“Seriously? Is this your reaction to everything? To just pick me up whenever I’m not doing what you’d like?” This isn’t the first time Calder’s hurled me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and I’m not going to stand for it.

But he doesn’t respond. Instead, he weaves his way across the room toward the master bedroom.

“What about your game?” I ask. “What about your rules?” He doesn’t seem inclined to answer me, though, so I reach down and give him a nice smack on the ass.

“Ah,” he says. “Is that how you want to play this?”

He pauses at the doorway to the bedroom to reach up and push the lingerie up past the curve of my bottom, leaving me completely bare. Then, without warning, he brings his hand down sharply against one naked cheek.

I let out a sound that can only be described as a squeak. “What are you doing?”

“You spank me, I spank you.”

“Are we children now?”

He chuckles. “I, for one, am feeling very adult.” He slaps my ass again, making me flinch, but instead of removing his hand for another smack, he slides his fingers along my cheek and between my legs. “Very, very adult.”

“So we’re back to sex, are we?” I say, wriggling.

“You seem ready for it.” His fingers move along my wetness.

“We’re in the middle of a game! You’re not allowed to do anything to me unless I make a wrong guess!”

Calder’s moving again, carrying me into the bedroom. We left the mattress in the middle of the floor, and this is where Calder drops me.

“All right, then,” he says, hovering over me. “Make a guess.”

I cross my arms. “I was
attempting
to make a logical guess, but you interrupted my very important research.”

He leans down so his face is just above mine. “Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want you to make a logical guess?”

“Oh, I have no doubt that you’d prefer me to make a dozen wrong guesses and have me at your beck and call all night. But what sort of game would it be if I just let you win?”

He shakes his head, but I can tell he’s enjoying this.

“Very well,” he says. “What would you like to do, then? Should we play for another hint?”