"Breasts?" she asked incredulously.
"Hey, it was all I had," he said, holding his hands up in defense. Then his voice lowered, as did his gaze, right to where the buttons on her blouse ended and the dip of her cleavage began. "Besides, I like the word breasts."
As if on cue, her breasts swelled and her nipples tingled against lace, ruthlessly reminding her how long it had been since she'd felt the stroke of his hands there, the wet heat of his mouth…
"I'm sure you do, not to mention the eighteen extra points you just tacked on to your score," she groused, shaking off the need coiling deep in her belly. She shuffled her letters around on her rack, her brow knit in concentration. With a triumphant smile, she added P-A-R-T-I-N to the G in THIGH.
While she fished out new tiles, he played his hand. O-N-G-U-E after PARTING'S T.
Her gaze shot to his, and she automatically dampened her bottom lip with her tongue. He watched her, his eyes growing dark as molten gold. And as hot as the embers in the hearth. Tongue. The word brought all kinds of sensual images to mind-the silken glide of his tongue along hers, the lap of his tongue along her neck, then flicking over the peaked tips of her breasts. Thighs, breasts, tongues…
She cleared her throat. "What's with all these body parts?"
The wicked smile tipping his mouth spoiled his attempt at innocence. "Is there a rule against using body parts?"
She busied herself switching tiles around on her rack. "Well, no."
He tipped his head curiously. "So, what's the problem?"
Oh, the rogue knew exactly what the problem was. She should have guessed that he'd put a twist on the game-a game he'd never played, no less!-and succeed in arousing her with a few simple words.
She took a gulp of her wine, hoping the alcohol would take the edge off the growing ache settling in her belly and lower. No such luck, it only increased the heat and need within her. "There's no problem," she said, flashing him a sweet smile.
"Good. Your turn."
Drawing a breath to steady her hand, she arranged her next set of letters, L-A-Y, on the board, underneath the P in PARTING, spelling the word P-L-A-Y. Let's see him make a body part out of that, she thought smugly.
He placed F-O-R-E on top of her PLAY.
She gaped at him in disbelief. The man was good. Too good.
He grinned like the bad boy he was. "Not bad, eh? And I even managed to rack up another twenty-one points." He reached for replacement tiles. "I think I like this game."
Her gaze narrowed. "Are you sure these tiles aren't marked somehow?"
Deep laughter rolled from his chest. "Of course they aren't."
"Are you cheating?"
He shook his head, not at all offended by her accusation. "You set the game up, sweetheart, not me."
Taking a deep swallow of wine, she finished what was left in her glass, finally feeling her body relax. "No one can be so lucky to draw all these sexy words," she complained.
Smothering another grin, he tipped the bottle of wine against her glass and refilled it. "Personally, I think it makes the game more interesting."
She mimicked him beneath her breath. Thinking to throw him off, she jumped to the other side of the board and added O-C-K to the I in CHILDREN.
He smoothly interjected, adding L-I-P on top of her LOCK.
"Liplock?" A sputter of laughter escaped her. He'd gone too far. "You can't be serious. Liplock isn't a word."
He casually picked up new tile squares. "Sure it is."
"Prove it. We need a dictionary. I'm issuing a challenge." She started to her feet, a woman on a mission. No way was she going to let him get away with this one.
He snagged her wrist before she could stand. "I don't need a dictionary, and I'll gladly meet your challenge."
Her pulse raced beneath the thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. "You expect me to go on your say-so?" Her voice was breathless. At the moment she feared she'd believe anything he said.
"Absolutely not." Purpose glittered in his eyes, primitive and wholly sexual. "You want proof that liplock is a word, then I'll give it to you." With a gentle tug on her wrist he brought her to her hands and knees, the game still between them. Taking advantage of her surprise, he released her wrist and slid his fingers through her hair, cradling the back of her head in his palm.
Oh, God. She struggled for strength to stop this madness, damning the wine that had slowed her reflexes. She was in trouble. Big trouble.
Leaning forward, he brought their faces inches apart, his expression full of satisfaction. "Take note. In a second our lips are gonna lock, sweetheart," he murmured huskily. Making good on his promise, he settled his mouth firmly over hers, stealing her breath with exquisite mastery and the slow, erotic glide of his tongue past the seam of her lips.
A shudder rocked through her, and she groaned. Tentatively she let their tongues meet, and they tangled and swirled like long-lost lovers reunited. Then deeper strokes. Bolder forays. She returned the kiss like a woman starved for the taste of her mate, ignoring the warning in her mind to stop, and the melting of her body, priming her for a more intimate act. All that mattered was Grey and the ultimate pleasure of his touch, his kiss.
Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the mindless warmth weakening her limbs. The hand tangled in her hair tightened and the tenor of the kiss changed from slow seduction to the basic, raw heat of passion. She felt his need, sensed his desire in the sudden, urgent way he slanted his mouth over hers and took complete possession.
Without breaking the hot kiss he moved closer, hitting the playing board with his knee and scattering the letter tiles. Mariah no longer cared about the game. No longer gave a thought to the silly word that had ignited such a wild hunger in the both of them. All that mattered was the hand he'd fitted so snugly over her breast and the emotion she tasted in Grey's kiss, the wanting. The pure need.
Mariah's head spun, and she clutched his shirt, holding on as the dizzying sensation threatened to consume her, right along with Grey's delicious kisses. His fingers fumbled with the burtons on her blouse, and she felt a whisper of cool air on her chest as the material parted. He lifted his head, breaking their kiss, and stared at the breasts nestled in satin-and-lace cups, his hands clenching at his sides. The mounds swelled and her nipples tightened beneath his gaze. For weeks she'd resisted him. After what they'd shared today, she wanted to make love with him.
Slowly she reached up and unsnapped the front hook of her bra.
A blunt curse reached her ears. With an impatient sweep of his arm Grey pushed the game board and pieces out of the way then gently eased her down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. He yanked off his shirt, tossed it aside and followed her down, stretching his body over hers.
"God, what you do to me, Mariah," he groaned helplessly, then fitted his mouth to hers once more while his hands tugged her blouse and the straps of her bra over her shoulders. The material bunched around her upper arms, and he left it there, restricting her reach. She moaned as he rubbed his chest against hers, the friction of hard muscle, a sprinkling of hair, and heat melting the last of her resistance.
He gentled the kiss, giving her slow, drugging strokes of his tongue that tapered into playful bites along her damp lower lip. She tried to touch him, but her hands only reached his sides. A frustrated sound escaped her.
"Shh, baby," he murmured, trailing soft kisses along her jaw and down her neck until, finally, his tongue swept over a taut, aching nipple. Then he drew the pearled tip into his mouth and suckled her deeply.