Page 95 of Goldflame
“The rules are the rules.”
“Then I’m changing them,” she says with that familiar stubborn set to her jaw. “From now on, the loser doesn’t strip; they have to do whatever the winner commands.”
I pause, cards suspended between my hands. “That seems unnecessarily complicated.”
“Scared?”
“Very well.” I finish dealing the next hand. “Though I should warn you—I rarely lose. Last hand was a fluke.”
The game continues, this new dynamic heightening the tension between us. Aurelia’s focus is unwavering. Yet my own skills, honed by years of negotiation and manipulation, prevail. She loses.
“Fine,” she mutters, tossing her cards on the table. “What do you want?”
I consider her for a moment, the perfect blend of defiance and vulnerability. “Take off my belt.”
Her breath catches audibly, a delightful sound that resonates through the room. Color rises to her cheeks in a perfect pink flush.
“You’re refusing?” I ask as she hesitates.
“No. Jerk.”
I watch as she rises from her chair and then crosses the short space between us. Her movements are cautious. When she’s close enough, I turn my chair to give her access.
Her eyes flash with irritation and something else as she waits. “Aren’t you going to stand up?”
I chuckle softly. “That wasn’t part of the dare.”
She huffs dramatically but drops to her knees nonetheless. The sight sends heat coursing through me—Aurelia kneeling before me.
I really enjoy her in this position.
I spread my legs slightly so she can move closer, making no attempt to hide my growing arousal. Her fingers fumble briefly at the buckle; when she notices my erection straining against the fabric just inches from her face, I hear the sharp intake of breath.
Her composure is admirable under these circumstances, but I’ve learned to read even what she doesn’t say aloud: this affects her.
She finishes unbuckling my belt and pulls it free, flinging it onto the floor before scrambling to her feet and retreating to her chair.
“Happy now?” she asks quickly.
“Immensely.” I lean back in my seat, savoring this unexpected turn of events.
“You’re annoying.”
“You were always fond of challenges,” I remind her, watching as she reclaims her earlier defiant posture: arms crossed over bare skin, emerald necklace glinting against porcelain flesh.
Her entire face is flushed. I smile like a maniac, reveling in my small victory.
“Let’s go again,” she says, gathering the cards. “I won’t lose this time.”
I feign annoyance that barely conceals my pleasure as she wins the next hand—I let her win, of course. She’s so happy that she abandons her chair entirely, doing what can only be described as a decidedly un-Aurelia-like dance around the table. It warms me in unexpected ways to see her so goofy and free—a side I know I stifled when we were together. But no more.
“So what’s my dare?” I ask, watching as she tries to contain her glee.
“Take off your pants.”
“That’s it? How boring.”
The words provoke exactly the reaction I anticipate. She growls at me, rolling her eyes with irritation before blurting out, “Fine, take off mine.”
