He sure does. He brought me in here to dangle the forbidden fruit in front of me, only to yank it out of reach. Instead of moving a bishop, I send my knight jumping two squares forward and one to the right, and just as he promised, he puts me in check. There’s only one spot for my king to go.

And after I take my turn it’s game over, because he has me cornered.

“Is this your idea of punishment?” I move my king into inevitable surrender. “Watching me lose?”

“I haven’t gotten to your punishment yet.” Liam slides his queen into position. “Mate.” His eyes tangle with mine, rife with heat. I fail to breathe, overcome by the seducing quiet between us.

“You won,” I say with a hard swallow.

“I did.” He rises, blatant longing playing on his face, and holds out a hand.

I slide my palm along his, my body tingling from anticipation. I’m nervous and scared all at once. He’s not as put-together today, with his hair in slight disarray and cufflinks removed, sleeves pushed to the elbow. He leads me up the three short steps to the bed and orders me to bend over the end. As I drape the comforter, I’m acutely aware that this is where he sleeps.

Alone.

Probably naked.

Does he pleasure himself between these sheets?

Does he think of me when he does?

“Spread your legs.”

Heartbeat doing double time, I part my thighs. He lifts the back of my skirt, and I hear him suck in a breath.

Because I’m not wearing panties.

“Jesus, Novalee.”

I want him to touch me. Badly. Obsessively. It’s all I’ve thought about for the last sixteen days while he shut himself away from me.

Protecting us both, he claims.

“Please,” I whisper, arching my spine.

He splays his hand where my ass cheeks meet, the tips of his fingers dipping close to where I want them.

So close.

But he doesn’t move. His hot and heavy palm lingers on my bottom, just a tease. A promise. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, booming one…two…three times.

Then he smacks my ass.

There’s no yelp or cry of pain. Only a whimper of need as his palm connects with my flesh again, softly and with purpose, those fingers teasingly close to the spot that aches for him.

I’m on fire, turning to ash for this man.

“Please,” I say again as my limbs shake.

“What are you begging for?”

Everything.

I can’t verbalize what I want, unable to form the words. Because they’re a foreign plea on my tongue.

I want to come.

He smacks me again, fingers grazing the wetness between my legs.

He knows what I want, and he’s toying with me.

I need to come.

It’s rising inside me, as forceful as a tsunami. As tremendous as the sea itself.