I stared at the table with my mouth hanging open. I didn’t see Zachary move, but I felt the heat of his body behind me. I heard him whisper in my ear, “Whatever I want, baby girl.”
There was something dangerous in the tone of his voice, which made my heart pound ten times harder.
I watched him take the aim for the last striped ball on the table. He looked like a man on a mission, and I knew he was going to win this game. He stared at the target like a hawk keeping its eye on its prey.
He took a shot. It was lightning fast. I blinked, and the striped ball was gone into the pocket and the cue ball spinning in the center, in perfect alignment to the eight ball.
He walked behind me. I felt his hand brush my hip slightly as his hot breath tickled my ear. “Don’t worry, baby girl. I won’t do anything naughty… that you don’t want me to.”
Shit! The sound of his voice, the heat of his body, the feel of his breath against my skin—I felt my knees turn to jelly, and it felt like my body was melting like lava. He knew he had this effect on me, and he was not afraid to use it.
He poised for the shot.
“Can we play another round?” I asked nervously.
He stared back at me, raising a brow.
“One more round. And then I will let you do anything you want,” I said bravely.
He gave me a devilish smile and took the last shot, sending the eight ball into the left center pocket flawlessly.
“Okay,” he said. “If I win this, no protests. No regrets. You won’t fight me, baby girl.”
“Wh-what will you do to me, anyway?”
He gave me a relentless smirk. “You’re about to find out, aren’t you?” He pointed at the balls on the table, which he had already arranged. “Loser’s break.”
I gave it my best shot. But the balls barely budged. So, it meant the odds were in his favor. And he was already good at the game to begin with. He gave me a smug look and then hit the solid ball closest to the hole. He did it again. And again. And again.
After less than five minutes, he was aiming for the eight ball. I didn’t even have the chance to play at all. I nervously watched him.
“Chill out, baby girl. You might win yet.”
“How?”
“If I scratch or get the eight off the table, then I’ve just handed the game over to you,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, how likely is that?”
“Close to impossible, actually.” He laughed.
Then he turned serious and concentrated on the ball. He gave it one smooth hit, and the eight ball went in the pocket, followed by the cue ball. I held my breath. I could still win this! But the cue ball stopped an inch from the pocket.
“You wish!” He smirked.
I stared at him nervously. I didn’t know what he was going to do to me. I had just given him the permission to do whatever he wanted to do with me.
He’s your brother! A part of me screamed inside my head.
You’re not blood related! Another part argued.
Everybody sees you as siblings!
The court already nullified his adoption!
I leaned against the pool table and helplessly watched him approach me. The look he gave me was part mischievous, part amused. Each step he took shattered my defenses, weakened my resolve.
How long did we last pretending we could only be just siblings? Seven days? Barely!
He stood less than a foot away from me. I stared up at his handsome face. His skin was smooth, pore-less. His eyes were deep-set, his lashes, long. His cheekbones, high; his jaw, strong. He had a five o’clock shadow that made him look sexy and boyish at the same time. He was perfect. And I lost a minute’s worth of breath just staring at his handsome face.
He stepped forward a bit more. I pressed on the pool table, trying to maintain our distance. He closed the gap between us, touching me from the knees up. I leaned my body backward toward the pool table. He put his arms on either side of me, effectively caging me. There was no escape. Well, not that I had any real desire to do so.
He stared at me deeply, studying my face feature by feature.
“You are beautiful, you know that?” he whispered.
I shook my head.
He chuckled. “That’s what makes you even more attractive. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”
“Zachary…” I whispered.
“Call me, Zach, baby girl,” he said.
“Why?”
He shook his head. “I like the sound of it on your lips.” He was looking at my lips intensely, which involuntarily parted as if he were commanding them to.
“What are you planning to do to me, Zachary?”
“Zach,” he corrected me again. “Call me Zach. Just like you did that night.”
Ohmigod! I don’t think I can survive my own brother!
“Zach…” I whispered.
He smiled at me mischievously.
“You lost, baby girl,” he whispered. “And you promised to let me do whatever I want. You won’t fight me.”
I slightly nodded. A bet’s a bet! But damn! Who am I kidding? There was a huge part of me that’s dying to know what he was up to. And we both knew that if he tried something—anything—I would let him.
“Zach…” I breathed.
He leaned his face toward mine. I closed my eyes, my lips parting slightly, anticipating the warmth of his lips on mine. Only now did I realize that I had been waiting for him to kiss me again. I had been wanting him to send me spiraling toward the edge of my sanity.