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She takes another sip of her coffee. “Why do you think that?”
“Because it’s beautiful. You’ve found a way to center yourself around what makes a person most happy. You fully support their passions. I can only imagine that inspires people to be better when they’re around you. To live to their full potential.” Maybe that’s why she’s been so unforgettable. Her happiness is based on something so pure, so real. I want to taste that.
She gives me a sweet smile. “What about you? What excites you?”
“I like to win,” I admit, even though I know it’s a two-edged sword. Before she can assume the worst of me, thinking that I’m only with her now because I wanted to beat Jackson, I add, “I like to face obstacles and find that special little thing that everyone is missing so that I come out on top.”
She cocks her head. “Meaning?”
“I mean that I like to play clean and win fairly in this cutthroat game of law. It’d be easy to get drawn into the dark side of this business. To make deals with the Devil for money, for fame.”
“You’ve never done that?”
“I’ve never needed to.” I lean back in my seat, gazing into the richness of her eyes. “I win, but not by playing dirty. I win by playing hard.”
The side of her mouth curves as she gives me a very long regard. “Well, color me surprised. I wouldn’t have expected Liam Maxwell to have such heart.”
“That’s because you’ve never given me the chance to show it to you.”
“I suppose that’s true.” She studies me again, eyes searching mine. “But how can I know this isn’t all an act to schmooze me?”
Anger slides through my veins. Jackson’s fed her a story about how I’m using her. Fuck, it’s such a lie. One that by Monday she won’t believe anymore. “When it comes to you, there is only one game I will ever play.”
“What game is that?” she asks, a little breathless.
“Come here and I’ll show you.”
The sides of her mouth crease as she rises, accepting my dare. I push my plate to the side of the table, shifting my chair back. When she moves to my side, I help her so she’s straddling my chair, her bottom resting on the table. I never stop looking at her, keeping that connection. “Lift your skirt, sweetheart.”
Slowly, she does, revealing she’s not wearing panties. “Already playing a game yourself, hmm?” I lean back in my chair and drag my hands up her thighs, pausing to state my truth. “This is my game, Aria. My only game. Do you want to play this morning?”
“Yes,” she breathes, eyes hot on me.
I rub my finger through her slick folds. “Look at you, swollen, all used up.” I glance at her face and grin. “Your sweet body isn’t used to all this attention.” I run my palm over her clit. “Are you sore, Aria?”
“A little.”
I slide a finger inside her slick tender heat. “Not sore enough,” I tell her, when she tosses her head back. I gaze upon the long, sexy line of her neck. “You won’t refuse me my fill, will you?”
“God, no.” She moans.
That desperate moan tells me I have her right where I want her. I drag my finger out of her tight heat and state firmly, “Return to your seat, Aria.”
Her head snaps up, expression aghast. “What?”
“You wanted to play a game. Let’s play it.” She studies me a moment then obviously agrees to play along and rises. Before she can sit, I grab her chair, position her closer beside me. “Take a seat.” I pat the chair.
“What are you up to?” She regards me with suspicion.
“Anything I want.” She lowers down into the chair, and I pull her under the table, the linen now over her lap. “Spread your legs and rub that sweet pussy for me, will you, love?”
Heat and lust burn in her eyes. “And then?”
I lean closer, cupping her chin, demanding she only look at me. “Then you’re going to bring yourself to orgasm.”
“And then?” she whispers, breathless.
“You’re going to ask me permission to come.”
