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‘I—’
I’m on the brink of arguing, but he lifts a finger to my lips, staring at me as he holds it firmly in place.
‘Indulge me.’
My heart lurches. ‘Fine,’ I sigh, momentarily conceding to him—even when I know I won’t, for long. ‘How do I “break”?’
‘You’ve no idea?’ He sounds so Irish. I want to lick him all up. And later, I think I will.
‘No, I mean, I’ve seen it in movies, but I have literally never held a pool cue in my life.’
‘Show me what you’ve seen.’
I shoot him a look and then lean over the table, aiming the stick at the neat cluster of balls in the middle of the table. ‘And I’m aiming for the pockets?’
‘Sure.’ He nods, and then his body is close, his arm wrapped around me, his face right beside mine. ‘It’s hard to break and sink in one go. Really, you just want to scatter the balls as much as possible.’
‘Do I?’ I turn to face him and my lips are almost on his cheek. He doesn’t take his focus off the table.
‘So pull back the cue a little, like this, and stare straight down the length at the white ball.’
He smells so freaking good up close. Butterflies have taken over my body and batter my insides to mush.
‘It takes practice to know how hard you need to hit a ball to get it to sink. You’ll learn that.’
There is so much I want to learn.
‘Ready?’ And, out of nowhere, he looks at me. We’re so close. Our eyes lock and, at this distance, it’s with an intensity that seems to lurch me catastrophically sideways. Desire singes me.
‘Uh huh.’
His arm guides mine backwards, and it’s with his help that I drive the cue forward. It connects with the white ball, making a satisfying ‘clonk’ noise. The white ball rushes forward, careening into the triangle. Order becomes disarray as striped and solid coloured balls riot across the dark green surface.
Quite by accident, and to my utter surprise, a gleeful striped ball sprints towards a corner, dropping into a pocket with an unmistakable swoosh.
‘You’re going for stripes, then.’
He lifts away from me; I feel his absence like a rush of cold air, but I cover it, straightening, smiling. ‘Was that good?’
He nods slowly. ‘Very.’
‘Well—’ I lift a brow and curl my hand around the pool cue, as though I was born holding one ‘—I should warn you, I’m very competitive.’
‘I’m counting on it. Beer?’
‘Why not?’
I stare at him as he walks away, as I’ve been wanting to do since I arrived at his apartment. His body is the work of angels. Firm, toned, muscular yet somehow neat. If I didn’t know him to be a renowned lawyer, I’d think he had an outdoor job, something that required him to be on his feet a lot, using his body’s strength.
He returns with two beer bottles, holding them by the neck, and passes one to me when he’s close enough. ‘Your turn again.’
‘Sure.’ I sip the beer, its cool, familiar flavour welcome. I eye the table. ‘So I can only hit the white one?’
He nods. ‘Don’t worry too much about that in this round. While you’re learning, we can relax the rules.’
‘What if I like rules?’ I enquire archly, sipping the beer again, this time slowly, savouring the feeling of my lips on the bottle top, and his attention on my face.
‘You’ll learn not to.’
