She jerked up her chin defiantly. “No, if we’re going to play, we’ll play fair. The same rules must apply to us both.”

Which meant she was agreeing to do whatever he asked of her. Oh, the things he was going to do to her. He’d make her damned glad he’d won. He jerked his head to the side. “Come over here, and I’ll show you how to position the cue, how to strike.”

“The cue?”

He held it up. “The stick. It’s a cue stick. Most people refer to it as a cue.”

“And the thing you were rubbing it with?”

Rubbing. His body had finally calmed down, and he didn’t need to think of her rubbing him. “Chalk. It helps to add some friction so when the leather at the tip of the cue strikes the ball, it’s more likely not to go skidding off the ivory.”

“I see. All right then.” She came over to stand before him. He handed her the cue, explained how she was to hold it, bent her over slightly so her hand was resting on the table, and fought not to rub his crotch against her backside.

At some point, he would take her from behind, perhaps in this very room, while they played billiards naked.

With his arms around her, positioning her just so, he inhaled her fragrance of strawberries, the very fruit that he thought had inhabited her hair to give it the barest reddish tint when the light hit it at certain angles. He’d spent most of their journey to this room noting the different ways the light struck her hair, changed the shade of it. He wanted to remove all the pins that held the strands in place, gather them up in his hands, and bury his face in the silken tresses.

Instead he placed his lips against her neck where it curved into her delicate shoulder, took great satisfaction in the hitching of her breath. He had a feeling she’d be like kindling, easily set alight when he went about ravishing her completely. “Striking the ball here will send it on a path to the left.” He guided her hands, moving the stick over. “Here, to the right.” Another move of her hands and the cue. “Here, it will follow the path outlined by the cue.”

Sliding the cue between her fingers, he imagined himself sliding within her. Taking a deep breath to clear his mind of everything other than the table, he envisioned the play, then guided her as together they struck her white dotted ball. It bounced off three sides before hitting the red ball, careening toward the other side—bounce!—and traveling across the green to smack against his ball.

He stepped back. “Easy. The balls remain where they are. Now you give it a go on your own.”