His Wicked Games: A Billionaire Romance (The Cunningham Family #1)

The rest of dinner is, surprisingly, rather tame. We talk about anything and everything, from books to politics to our favorite flavors of ice cream. Calder is far more well-read and thoughtful in his opinions than I originally anticipated, but I'm too distracted by our bet to spend much energy marveling at his intelligence. There are too many glances to decipher, too many casual touches to give and receive. I've heard the dance of seduction compared to a game of chess, but never before have I recognized the truth of such words. Everything that passes between us is a move in this elaborate game of lust, and I'm afraid that while I'm planning my next turn, Calder will sneak up behind me with some strategy I haven't even considered.

  By the end of the meal, I'm tense and tired.

  “Will you lead me back to my room?” I ask, looking up at Calder through my lashes. “I got lost twice on the way down here.”

  “Of course,” he says, sliding a finger along the back of my palm.

  The walk back to my room is a quiet one. Calder's hand rests on the small of my back most of the way, and I do my best to ignore the warmth running up my spine. He plays the game well, I'll grant him that, but he has something coming to him if he truly believes his will is stronger than my own.

  When we reach my door, I turn and blink up at him. I clasp my hands in front of me, just enough to nudge my breasts up a little more.

  “Thank you for walking me here. And thank Martin for another wonderful dinner. I quite enjoyed myself this evening.”

  “I hope you found my company stimulating.”

  “That's one word for it.” I flash him my most devilish grin.

  For a moment we both stand there, each waiting for the other to speak or move. There's energy around us, a force like a string tied between one and the other, and all it would take is one movement, one tug, to either snap it or bring us hurtling together. I sense the danger of it even before I notice the way my breathing has quickened. Calder's has too, judging by the rise and fall of his broad chest.

  Almost involuntarily, I reach out and touch the skin just above his collar, right at the hollow of his throat. He swallows. My fingers start to move along his neck, until suddenly I realize what I'm doing. They freeze just below his ear.

  “Goodnight,” I say sweetly, as if I intended this all along. “Pleasant dreams.”

  I withdraw my hand and reach for the door, but I can still feel the intensity of Calder's gaze on me.

  “Goodnight,” he says roughly.

  I don't trust myself to look at his face again before I close the door behind me.