We play for a while and, naturally, I lose a bunch of rounds. He didinventthe game, after all. But it doesn’t take me long to pick up on what he’s doing, and next time I take a gamble and try something different. He doesn’t see it coming, and when his avatar is blown to bits, he turns to me, slack-jawed.
“That was brutal.”
I giggle. “You just shot me three times in a row. It’s about time I won.”
He grins, loading up the game again. “It’s okay. I know how to get you back.”
Somehow—don’t ask me how—I already anticipate what his next move will be. I wait until he’s about to execute it and—BAM! I take him down again. “Okay, yeah, this is pretty fun,” I say, chuckling.
He glances at me, half frowning, half smiling. “You’re a natural.”
Luke wins the next round, but I win the following two. He’s getting increasingly frustrated that I’ve picked it up so easily, but I’m not going to lie—after the way he needled me last night, it’s fun to wind him up.
“Whoever designed this game needs to make it harder,” I tease, and he grumbles something to himself.
Aw, now I feel bad. He was so excited to show this to me and I’ve taken all the fun out of it. But he’s so easy to read—I can always guess which way he’s going to go. It’s not about the game, it’s about his body language. This wouldn’t be so easy if he wasn’t right beside me.
On the next round I purposely fumble my move. He does exactly what I think he’s going to do, so it’s easy to hit the wrong button. I watch my avatar blow up and raise my hands in surrender, giving Luke a look that says “whoops!”
But his eyes narrow behind his glasses and he sets the controller down. “What was that?”
I place my controller on the coffee table, doing my best to look disappointed. “I messed up. You won.”
He shakes his head, eyes dancing as they move over my face. “You did that on purpose.”
“What?” Maybe I’m easy to read, too. I rise and gather the pizza boxes, heading into the kitchen so I don’t have to look at him. “It was an accident.”
Luke jumps to his feet, following me. “No, it wasn’t.”
I set the boxes down and turn to see him standing there, arms crossed, amusement crinkling his brow. At least he’s not annoyed, but that would be easier. It’s much harder to resist him with that playful expression on his face—and don’t get me started on those forearms, corded with veins as they’re folded over his chest.Fuck me.Who knew a plain white T-shirt could make a guy look so freaking good?
“Fine.” A grin pushes at my mouth. “I let the Wookiee win.”
The smile drops off Luke’s face. Lightning flashes in his gaze and I falter, wondering why it feels like the atmosphere has shifted all of a sudden.
“I mean—” I aim for a carefree chuckle, desperate to lighten the mood again. “It’s not like Iactuallythought you’d pull my arms out of my sockets if you lost, but—”
“Stop.” Luke holds up a hand, pressing his eyes shut as though he’s in pain. “You have to stop quotingStar Warsto me.”
The rough scrape of his voice makes me hesitate. “Why?”
“Because it’storturingme, Harriet.”
“What?” A nervous laugh whistles out of me. “How?”
His jaw is tight and he shoves a hand through his hair, letting out a low growl. “Do you know how fucking sexy it is? How sexyyouare? Playing video games with me, talking about this stuff?”
My heart takes off in a sprint. Maybe he’s not that easy to read, because I didn’t seethatcoming at all.
“Well, do you know how sexy it is that you actually get the reference?” The words rush from my mouth before I can stop them. “That you took me to that board game cafe? That you played my favorite game with me? That you—”
I’m cut short as Luke steps forward and captures my mouth with his. Shock hits my system first, making me freeze. But it only takes a split second for me to realize what’s happening, and…fuck. I sink into the warmth of his mouth, parting my lips and welcoming his tongue with my own. He moans and presses me into the kitchen island, and I don’t fight him.
God, I’m so weak. I can’t do anything but let him slide his hands into my hair and take me. Need floods my bloodstream and my body arches against him, my hands fisting in the front of his T-shirt. How is it possible that we’ve resisted doing this for the past week? It feels like finally breathing after not having enough air. Like I won’t be able to survive without this now.
He’s the first to break the kiss, stepping back and straightening his glasses to stare at me with dark eyes. “I’m sorry,” he manages, his breath ragged like he’s just sprinted up the stairs of The Empire State Building.
I press the pads of my fingers to my tingling lips, wondering how I’m going to stop myself from wanting to do that again. To do that forever. I’m breathing hard too, and my pulse is off the charts. “It’s okay,” I whisper at last, not sure what else to say. Because it is okay—it’smorethan okay. It’s everything I want.
