This Is War, Baby - K Webster Page 0,50

but her.

And once again, I lose count.

“YOUR TURN,” I tell him as I slide my white, ivory bishop diagonally and sit back in the chair.

His brows pinch together and I watch with fascination as his eyes dart all over the board, no doubt configuring many different outcomes with every possible move he can think of. The man is obsessed—no surprise there—with this game but I’ve never seen him so in his element. It took him a good ten minutes to set up the board. I could tell after the first two pieces that he wanted to cleanse them all with his soft cloth, but all it took was one shameful glance my way before he pushed the cloth away and set up the board.

It took a while for him to explain the rules to me, but once I had a decent understanding, we began. With each move, he’d ask me if I were sure. I know he was trying to help but it made me second-guess each placement of the chess pieces. It was as if he played himself for so long that he couldn’t bear to win so easily. Clearly I’m no match for him.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to move your rook there instead?” he points to a black square.

I scrunch my nose and lean forward. The rook seems like he protects my king so I don’t want to move him. No other moves seem possible aside from the bishop. Tapping my bottom lip with my fingertip, I consider what he might have planned against me.

“I think so…”

He grunts and hovers his hand over the board. “Checkmate.” With finesse, he lifts the knight and leaps it over a pawn to attack my king.

Our eyes meet and he smirks at me, satisfaction written all over his face. It’s a handsome look on him. I’ve always been competitive when it comes to board games but with one look, I want to lose all the games with him—just to see that cocked eyebrow and smile lifted up on one side.

“You cheated,” I say with a laugh.

His gaze falls to my mouth and I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows. Now that the game is over and he isn’t fixated on the board, I’ve become his new obsession. He skims over the silky material of my nightgown, slowing at my breasts, and then drops his eyes to my bare thighs.

I could have changed into something more decent but I kind of liked feeling sexy for him. The thought of him losing control again and kissing me more dizzies me. His mouth on mine had been decadent. War is lost inside of his own head most of the time, but for that brief moment, he’d lost himself in me.

And I liked it.

I chew on my lip, savoring the lingering taste of him there, and slightly drag my gown up my legs, revealing more skin on my thighs. With my eyes on him, I watch for any signs indicating that what he sees excites him. He clears his throat but his stare is on my legs. I’m not wearing anything under the gown. The idea of spreading apart my legs to show him has me dampening for him.

Gabe may have been a psychotic prick but I sort of miss his expert touch when he wasn’t hurting me. If War, the gentle soul he is, touched me, I think I’d enjoy it a whole hell of a lot more.

Feeling brave, I lean back against the cushions of the couch stretching so that my gown inches up even more. Across from me in the armchair, he sucks in a rush of air.

“Bay.” His voice is a low growl—almost a warning.

It excites me and a shiver of desire tickles across my flesh. “Yes?”

“Please stop.”

Tears of rejection sting my eyes at his uttered words and I hastily drag my gown back to my knees. Heat creeps up my neck from being caught and I can no longer look at him. “I’m sorry,” I choke out, embarrassment garbling my words. I flick a glance back up at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling and his mouth is moving. Counting and counting. Finally, he drags his eyes from the ceiling.

He groans and his pained eyes meet mine. The muscles in his neck tighten and he seems as if he’s physically restraining himself from pouncing on me. The idea is confusing considering seconds ago he shot me down after my poor attempts to get