“For scaring you earlier; I didn’t know when you’d get here.”
You have to be kidding.Blown away by the audacity of a man, I remained too in shock to respond. And it seemed Laken took that as his sign to leave.
Pushing up from his chair, he stood. “I’ll leave you to… whatever you were doing here, then.”
And he walked off. Just like that. Always just walking away.
For some treacherous reason, I spun around. “Where are you going?”
“Darts.” He nodded to the board on the wall. “You’re welcome to join me, but,” his honeyed voice dragged, “I know you hate losing.”
Shifting in my seat, cautious and wary, I frowned. “Might be dangerous; what if you’ve become an axe murderer?” I argued.
Laken’s features pinched. “Wouldn’t matter anyway; winning or losing darts doesn’t change my choice in victims,” he amended.
The air between us grew thick with hot tension, like sparks of a fire waiting to burst. He watched me, waiting, and I knew he hoped I’d say yes. You see, Laken always knew what he was doing. He played people like a game, and he became quite good at it. That’s how he charmed or bullshitted his way in or out of anything. We’d play and we’d move into conversations where he’d slowly gather bits and pieces from me, using them to pry deeper and deeper into our past, attempting to get his greedy little hands around my heartonce again. It’d be a terrible idea, ending in nothing but heartbreak and misery—
“That’s what I thought,” he baited.
Fuck.A challenge. I did hate losing. And I hated his satisfaction even more. Maybe it was Goldie’s drink, maybe it was the shit day I’d had, but I felt bold—or angry. I didn’t know; the two had started to mesh.
“On one condition,” I proposed.
“I’m listening.”
“If I win, you answer a question, just one. And if you win, I’ll answer a question, anything you want.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You scare me, McCarthen.” Laken raked his fingers through his hair, dragging his gaze to me so slowly it hurt. He and his pathetic blue eyes were like an ocean trying to drown me, a wave trying to rip into me. But inside, I wanted to tear him apart.
He finally broke our staring match, coming to me. He lowered his hand to mine with a sigh. “Deal.” He shook my hand too easily. “You’ll never beat me.”
That used to be true.
This seemed like a bad idea, I knew that. But long ago, I’d fallen in love with making bad decisions. Laken being exhibit A.
Being the generous person I am, I let Laken throw first. The dartboard consisted of three rings and a bullseye. Each increasing in points as it closed in. He focused, twirling themetal dart between fingers that once traced my skin. He scored a ten.
When I’m nervous, I bite my lip. So I did. He noticed. I hit the wall behind the target.
“Come on.” I threw a flirty, wide smile his way. One I didn’t think he’d resist. “Show me how to throw it like you. It’s not fair.”
“That’s cheating and you know it,” he argued. We both knew fully well he’d cave because Laken, through and through, was a physical being. He always had been. He loved touch. It didn’t even have to be major, just holding hands when we were younger or the brush of a thumb, sitting side by side with our legs or shoulders grazing.
“Please,” I pleaded, the word dragging on my tongue. I edged closer to him, leaning in on my tiptoes.
I knew him, too. I knew his body and his impulses. I knew the way he’d rake his eyes down my figure and flex his fingers, wanting to grip me. I knew the begging would set him over the edge, too.
I knew him so well. Well enough to play him.
He slid behind me, his hand wrapped around my waist. The once-familiar scent of mint and honey sent lightning bolts buzzing inside of me. His cheek and chin settled against the side of my face, his breath brushed against my skin, and goose bumps erupted down my body. The palm of his hand pressed into my gut, straightening my posture against him. His foot moved mine.
I tried, and failed, to remember I was supposed to be the one in charge here. I wasn’t the pawn.
“Angle your body more.” He pulled my hips back. “Like this.”
