Chapter 9

Trace's eyebrows rose,his nostrils flared, and goddess help me, his wings snapped to full attention. Oh, how I wanted to touch them. To discover if they're as soft as they appear. But that would be encouraging him and I wasn't quite there. The look on his face, though, told me he was ready for the next step.

Uh-oh, had he'd taken my response as a green-light for some horizontal action? And yet deep down, my inner voice whispered, "At least, not yet."

His gaze held mine for another half a minute or so before he replied, "Follow me."

And like a love-starved puppy, I did just that. He led me to the great room off the kitchen, stopping in front of a bookcase. Not one book of fiction to be found.

"We have board games, or cards." He sounded anything but enthused.

"Wow, your excitement is overwhelming." I stepped in front of him, fully aware of how close our bodies were. The slightest shift from either of us and we'd be touching, but that was what I told him we couldn't do, so I moved again and began pointing out the different games.

"Risk? Uh, no. Aggravation? Yeah, double nope." There was plenty of that hanging in the air between us as it is.

"Ah, Scrabble. You're going down, big guy." I grabbed the box and carried it over to the dining room table and began setting it up. When I noticed Trace hadn't moved, but was gazing at me from across the room, I felt another rush of warmth flow through me at the intense need emanating from him.

Would this constant tether of sexual friction always be between us? Or would it ebb if I gave in and had sex with him?

Trace made his way over to the table, his movements measured as if he was hunting prey, a look appearing on his face I couldn't quite understand. What was he up to?

"I'll play. On one condition."

His words made me pause. I may regret this, but what the heck. "Name it."

"That was an awfully long pause. Are you sure I can name anything?" Trace now sounded more excited about playing Scrabble. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

"You don't know me well enough if you think that. I never say anything I don't mean."

I watched in anticipation as his face split into a wicked smile. I knew agreeing to anything meant I would be agreeing to something that would end up with us touching. I could see it in his darkening eyes, feel it in the electrically charged air between us. The need so palpable, I felt a rush of warmth pool between my thighs at the prospect of his hands on me or his mouth on mine, or that monster cock that had yet to go down in my presence coming out to play. It was then I knew without a doubt I'd throw this game. I'd do anything just to get his hands on me. When had I become so easy? And why was I judging myself? I was a grown woman with needs, and I wanted Trace. Period.

"Loser removes one piece of clothing."

I barely kept myself from gaping at him. "You've played this game before, right? Just one round can take hours."

"Not the way we're going to play." Trace opened a drawer, pulled out a timer, and carried it back to the table. "Fifteen seconds to place a word on the board, otherwise you forfeit an article of clothing."

My nipples puckered at his words. "Deal."

Amazingly, we went almost twenty minutes before one of us had to take something off. I had the most articles of clothing if you included my bra, socks, and panties. I was beginning to believe that he went commando, but today he wore gray sweatpants and a loose flannel shirt that stretched tight across his shoulders, somehow without interfering with his wings. I really wanted to take a closer look at his back to see how he managed that, but getting close to him had been too tempting before.

Over the next ten minutes, I gave up both socks and my zippered, lightweight knit jacket. I had three articles left while he still had everything on. He was a strong player, but I noticed his breathing had sped up and he was having a hard time keeping his gaze from my breasts.

I wasn't doing much better. Each time I dared at peek at his lap, his sweatpants were tented and his erection was in danger of escaping the elastic band. My mouth continued to water as I fought to maintain focus on my tiles.

He made another word in the allotted time. "If you don't set the timer, Bex, you'll need to give up another item." Trace's gruff voice pierced my lust-induced haze, making me jump in my seat.

"I know, I know." Quickly scanning my letters, I noted there were only two options open to me. I went with the shorter word as part of my strategy to make it harder for him and to get that shirt off his muscled chest. And find out once and for all how he wore it with his wings.

"M-o-t-e. Mote. That's six plus a double word score, adding twelve points to my total," I announced smugly.

"Challenge. There's no way that word is in the dictionary." Trace smirked.

He crossed his arms, his gaze steady, full of the challenge he just issued. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but maybe it didn't really matter.

Because this moment felt inevitable.

A slight ripple in his wings distracted me, reminding me how I'd dreamed of stroking them last night. How he'd run them along my body, increasing me need to a fever-pitch that had me begging him to take me and…

My thoughts came to a halt when Trace quirked an eyebrow, his gaze dropping to my lips and the stark desire in his eyes made me shudder. Oh, my. Here I was panting over something that hadn't even happened. And darn it, was that a bit of drool on the corner of my mouth?

I swallowed a groan, cleared my throat, and shot back. "Of course, it's in the dictionary. I've used it thousands of times in my life." That could be stretching the truth, but surely hundreds.

"Use it in a sentence," he demanded.

"Alright. You will let me use this word, so mote it be."

Trace laughed. It was the first time I heard him do so. A deep rumble that reached from my toes to my clit and I may have gasped at the sound.

"Are you attempting to bespell me into letting you use that word, mate?"

"It's Bex, and that's insulting. And I'm using that word." I pushed the timer back toward him. "Your turn."

"Ah, mate. How I do love your spirit. Our children will be strong-willed thanks to their beautiful mother. And I will enjoy our future battles over the Scrabble board. But you owe me either your bra or those damnable leggings. Your choice."

I couldn't tell if he was just trying to wind me up or he was being genuine in his praise, but it set me off. I was quickly breaking under the sexual frustration.

"Not happening. You can eat me, phoenix." Oh, no! Freudian slip much? I'd meant to say "bite me." Not that that was any less provocative.

"My pleasure, witch." Trace's expression had gone from teasing to hungry in a blink.

Oh, my.Once again, a verbal outburst had gotten me into trouble.

But oh, what trouble.

It was time to be honest with myself. I wanted his touch. His lips on mine and yes, between my folds, which were currently drenched. For him. The man who"s more than man, who wants to bind me to him forever.

I was ready to play with fire as long as he was the one making me burn.

All I cared about was discovering what's under his clothes, what his monster cock looks like.

What it will feel like as he pounds into me.

I've been ready since he first touched me and now that slow fuse was about to be lit by his next touch.

All my nerve endings sang as the anticipation built. I no longer dismissed my body's betrayal as a simple hormone imbalance. I've witnessed so many things that I no longer believed Athena hadn't been real or that the fated mate and the prophecy of the Brethren were something he'd made up.

I wanted my mate, and I wanted him now.