The dare was delivered low, sultry, and filled with promises. He would win, he would command, and she would obey. Glancing over at the table, she imagined him spreading her out over it, how the green baize might prick her back. If he took her there, rather than being bedded, would she be billiards tabled or simply billiarded? “If I win, I can order you to do anything I wish?”

“Anything at all, sweetheart.”

“All right, then, I’m up to the challenge of besting you.”

But his sudden grin told her far too late that he had no intention of losing.

Leaning against the table where she was rather certain he would have her before the night was done, she sipped her brandy and watched as he shrugged out of his jacket, his back to her so she could enjoy the play of muscles across the broad expanse. The man was certainly a fine specimen.

He tossed the coat over the top of a stuffed chair, before facing her and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal dark hair covering forearms that looked as though they’d been carved from granite. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes from the corded muscles that thinned as they flowed into his hands but left no doubt regarding the strength that resided there. She imagined them skimming over her flesh, closing around a breast, and kneading it until it fit perfectly within the curve of his palm, where his roughened skin would tease her nipple. Good Lord, but it had grown rather warm in here. Perhaps she should ask him to open a window, bring in some cool air.

“Come here,” he said softly, not a command, but an enticement that had her body wanting to move toward him as though he’d attached strings to her limbs and she no longer had control over her movements.

Only she did maintain control, albeit in a weakened state. She’d never been so affected by any man. Why him? Because he was practiced at seduction, had mastered it in order to rule his empire and make a success of it. She would resist. A businesslike coupling would serve. “The table is over here.”

Holding up a hand, he crooked a finger, curled and straightened it, over and over. “Come along.”

“You’ve not yet won. You can’t order me about.” Why was she being so stubborn when she desperately wanted to be nearer to him? Because she knew if she gave in once, she’d give in every time he asked something of her.

“Please.”

Blast him for using the entreaty in such a way as to imply he would die if she didn’t make her way to him as quickly as possible. So she did move, but she sauntered, taking her time, wondering if his limbs threatened to tremble in the same manner hers did. Why did he have such an effect on her?