“Did you open the box?”

She shook her head. He entered her apartment and she let the door fall shut behind them with a click.

He strolled casually to her kitchen, leaned against the counter, and tapped the wood.

She understood. The game was on. They were playing their parts. Joining him in the kitchen, she grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured him a glass, doing her best to keep her hands steady. She watched his every move as he knocked back the amber liquid. She imagined the burn in his throat. He set the glass down. It was nearly empty.

She stood near him, keenly aware that it was his move next.

This was a chess game, and she barely knew how to play. She swallowed dryly. Waiting. Uncertain.

She wanted a burn in her throat too. That would be better than all these nerves. She grabbed his glass and finished it.

“Do you want to open the box now?”

She nodded, grateful to have been given his direction. “Yes. I do.”

He tipped his forehead to the L-shaped couch in the living room.

She nodded briefly, and walked over to the couch. She sank down into the soft material, stretching her legs out in front of her on the lounge section, crossing them at the ankles. He joined her in the living room, choosing to sit on an ottoman, his knees spread, his hands resting on his thighs. “Open it now, Casey.”

Leaning forward, she reached for the black box and untied the bow, letting it fall to the floor. Gingerly, with nervous fingers, she lifted the top, shimmying it off. In seconds, she’d know what he’d planned, and a ribbon of excitement unfurled inside her from the possibilities. She wanted to say something, but words escaped her at that moment. She wasn’t sure how to vocalize all these unsteady feelings thrumming through her body.

Or if he would even respond.

Nate had always been easy to talk to. He’d always been chatty. But the man was wearing steely silence like a new coat. All his moves were measured, chosen carefully, designed to keep her guessing as to what he had in store for the evening.

She put the top of the box on the table, and the guessing game ended when she dipped her hands inside the box and withdrew a long, silky scrap of fabric—a blindfold. Next, she reached for a soft object, retrieving a feather tickler from his collection of goodies. Finally, there was a small riding crop, as if it had been made in miniature. Perhaps, so it didn’t seem so scary. She glanced up at him. His eyes seemed dark brown tonight. Gone was that warm golden color, replaced with a heat, a sensuality and blazing desire for her.

She trembled. “What do you want to use first?”

He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he issued an instruction. “Lie back. Close your eyes.”

She did as told, scooting into the couch. She hadn’t even turned on music, so she was keenly aware of every sound. Of the low hum from the refrigerator, of the far-off din of traffic, of the stirrings of a breeze. But there were no words from him. The silence vibrated between them as she waited, the world dark behind her eyelids.