But as his eyes drifted down from her face to her breasts, his resolve faded. It was hard to stay mad; those two perfect globes stretched the fabric of the shirt teasingly, their dark centers raised beneath the thin cotton like a forbidden invitation to touch. To tease. To taste.
The kneepads urged his fantasies in another dangerous direction, flooding his mind with memories that made his balls ache.
“My stats,” she said, counting down his apparent violations. “My high score. My outfits. My badges. Everything. You just…” She made a starburst motion with her fingers. “Poof! And I’m gone, just like that.”
Dorian dipped his head, trying to hide his smile.
“This isn’t funny, Dorian Redthorne! Youerasedme!”
“Yet here you are, love. In the flesh. And feeling much better than you were last night, I see. I take it the ice helped?”
When he met her eyes again, she was smiling too.
They faced off in silence for a moment, each trying not to laugh, the tension quickly evaporating.
“Good morning, Ms. D'Amico,” he finally said.
“And good morning to you too, Mr. Redthorne.” Her gaze slid down to his torso, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “Why are you half-naked and sweaty?”
“I was on a trail run. I’d just returned home when I heard the—well, what I assumed was a struggle.”
Charlotte grinned and pressed a hand to her chest, the T-shirt riding up her thighs to reveal the satin, rose-colored triangle of her panties.
Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to press his mouth to that silky scrap of fabric…
“And you charged in to save me,” she said. “Brandishing a broken broom. My knight in shining… half-nakedness.”
Dorian raked his eyes over her scantily clad body. “I see we’re well matched in that department.”
“Twinning, as my sister would say.”
She’d been teasing him, but now she didn’t hide her raw desire, a deep and desperate look that nearly undid him. His cock bulged obviously against his thin running shorts, battling his brain.
Just one more time.
Don’t be daft.
What’s the harm in giving each other a bit of dark pleasure?
She was plotting to rob your estate, you bloody idiot...
“Charlotte,” he said, finally forcing out the words, “I meant what I said last night. We can’t—”
“Play Midnight Marauder?” She grinned again, deftly steering them away from a topic she clearly found as uncomfortable as he did. “Yeah, I figured you’d say no. That’s why I waited until you were gone, and asked Aiden to set me up down here. Had I known you’derasedme from existence—”
“Virtualexistence. And what did you expect?” He raked a hand through his hair. “You damn near broke my bloody heart, woman.”
Fuck.
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, to open himself up again. Quickly, smoothly, he hit the button on the wall to raise the second platform and booted up his Bone Crusher avatar, not sparing her a glance.
The media room at Ravenswood was significantly smaller than the game room in Tribeca, but no less well-equipped, and soon they were both situated on their platforms, helmets and face shields in place, ready for a rematch.
“There’s only one way to settle this,” he said, scanning Charlotte’s new stats. In the few hours he’d been gone, she’d done pretty well for herself, racking up a dozen KOs. Dorian was impressed. “Let’s go, Miss Demeanor.”
“Oh, Bone Crusher. Sweet, sweet Bone Crusher.” Charlotte laughed. “Miss Demeanor’s dead. You killed her, remember? The name is B.O.B. now. Guess what it stands for.”
“I can only imagine.”
