"I can't believe I'm falling behind," she groused, crossing her arms over her chest.
I couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction as I danced my gingerbread man past hers. "Looks like the tides have turned," I said with a smirk.
Miranda shot me a glare, but I could see the glint of amusement in her eyes. "Don't get too cocky," she warned.
Was she actually having…fun?
As we approached the finish line, our movements became more frantic, each of us desperate to be the first to reach kastle. When Miranda drew the last card that would determine her fate, she held her breath as she flipped it over.
"It's a red one," she exclaimed in excitement with a fist pump. "I win."
Miranda victoriously marched her little gingerbread man to kastle, beating me fair and square.
I groaned in defeat. For a moment, I felt a twinge of disappointment, a sense of frustration at having come so close and yet fallen short once again.
But then I looked up, meeting her gaze across the table, and something inside me shifted. My ego slid to the side, I saw Miranda not as a rival or an opponent, but as a partner, a kindred spirit who spent all their time feeling this life was about burden. Her burden was duty and responsibility, mine was surviving and managing pain.
Miranda grinned, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "While you are shit at playing games, we’ve definitely confirmed you are a sore loser."
“Well, you sweetheart, are a poor winner. Do you rub it in your kid’s face when you beat him at a game?” I didn’t even bother asking if she let him win. Miranda was too upright to pander to anyone, even a child.
She rolled her shoulders back. “I treat him like an equal.”
I scoffed. “I hope your kid doesn’t cry easy.”
“He is very mature for his age,” she said, a little bit of pride sneaking into her expression, a slight smile curving her lips.
Her kid was right. She did need fun. And in that moment, I realized how badly I needed it too. But I also wanted more.
My hunger for her returned with a vengeance. I leaned forward, my eyes locked onto hers. I grinned, feeling a sense of anticipation building within me. Our game may be over, but the real competition had only just begun.
"Let's make a bet this time," I said, a sly grin spreading across my face. "If I win the next game, you have to kiss me."
Miranda’s eyes gleamed with ferocity, like a shark smelling blood in the water. A hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "And if I win?"
My little badass couldn’t resist a bet. I wondered how many people knew that?
I leaned even closer, the heat of her breath mingling with mine. "You get to decide."
Her eyes widened in surprise, but I could see the spark of desire igniting within them.
"You're on," she said, her voice low and husky.
Then her expression smoothed as she returned to business mode. “If I win, we skip the sword fighting lesson and we skip straight to me killing you. I’d like to enjoy what time I have left of my day off.”
My heart pounded in my chest, heat crawling up my neck with panic. This was more than just about a bet. Miranda was drawing a line. If she won, things would return to a more professional interchange of death between us. If I won, I got to continue to push a boundary I desperately wanted to break.
If she’d really regretted yesterday, she would have run for the hills. But she was still here, and it was game on.
And I intended to win this time.
ChapterTwenty-Two
THE BADASS
Icouldn't believe I'd agreed to this ridiculous bet over a game of freaking Candy Land. I knew it was a bad idea, and I absolutely knew better. I eyed the colorful board. The truth was skill had little to do with this game. I was really leaving this up to chance, and that wasn’t like me.
But down here, in this isolated cell, it was easier to take risks, to throw caution to the wind and just live in the moment.
