Playing His Game Part 3

"Well, I do." He pointed to the box. "That is for you."

"No, thank you."

He smiled. "It's not a choice, Mya."

She frowned at him as she marched to the bed and ripped the box open. She faltered at the sight of the

white teddy. Although she worked the makeup counter, Mya had picked up enough during her tenure with Macy's to know the material was real silk and probably very expensive. She was careful to ensure it didn't snag on the box as she lifted it out and laid it across the bed. "You want me to wear this?"

He nodded.

"But..." Mya couldn't think of a reason not to, and even the skimpy covering it would provide was preferable to complete nudity. "Where's the bathroom?" Roarke quirked a brow, but decided to indulge her. "Through that door." He pointed to the door by the closet.

Mya scooped up the teddy and swept through the black door that contrasted so dramatically with the silver walls. The bathroom was as unfurnished as the rest of the condo, without so much as even a bath mat. Two fluffy towels were folded on the counter, but they were the only personal touches she could see.

In an attempt to delay the inevitable, Mya opened the medicine cabinet to snoop, but didn't find even one bottle or tube. She closed the mirror and sat on the toilet. She s.h.i.+vered. It wasn't really cold, but she was nervous. Forced to stand in front of Roarke in her underwear, she had been unnerved, but the teddy was so much more intimate, which made it even worse.

She firmed her lips before she unhooked the bra and slipped it off. The panties followed, and she laid both on the counter. Knowing the sooner she got dressed, the sooner the afternoon would end, Mya stepped into the teddy and pulled it up. She frowned at herself in the mirror.

The legs were French cut, with a narrow crotch made from sheer lace. A lace panel revealed a diamond of her midriff, the shadow of her pubic region, and a hint of cleavage where her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were pushed together at the bottom of the cups. The neckline plunged to meet the top of the diamond, and two spaghetti straps held it up on her shoulders. She turned around to look at the back and realized it was completely sheer except for a band of lace that fell below her shoulder blades.

She stared at herself in the mirror and wondered how she could walk out there dressed in that. His eyes would eat her up. How could she maintain a facade of indifference when her defenses-and body-were stripped bare?

Her head whipped around when he tapped on the door. "What?"

"Are you coming out?"

"In a minute." She tried to keep the edge of panic from her voice.

"Don't make me come get you. A tryst in the bathroom isn't on the agenda. Today, anyway." His laugh sounded more like the purr of a large, predatory cat than a sound of amus.e.m.e.nt.

She heard him walking away from the door and breathed a sigh of relief, but knew her reprieve was short-lived. Mya bent over and flipped her hair forward as she fluffed out the heavy strands. She stood up and arranged the locks to hide her b.r.e.a.s.t.s where the pink areoles were clearly visible through the thin silk.

With another deep breath, Mya opened the bathroom door and plunged into the room. Momentum carried her within three feet of the bed, before she froze like a deer in headlights. His hungry expression caused s.h.i.+vers to race down her spine.

Roarke struggled to control his breathing as he stared at her. A grin teased the corners of his lips when he saw how carefully she had positioned her hair to cover her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Stunning, but I think the sandals clash."

Color flooded her cheeks, and Mya kicked off the brown rope sandals. She stood near him while her arms dangled at her side. "Now what?"

"Let's talk."

"Talk?"

He nodded and waved at the bed. "You sit there."

She wasn't thrilled at the idea of being on the bed, but it was a better alternative than sharing the only chair with him. Mya perched on the edge of the bed, crossed her legs, and folded her arms across her chest, even though modesty was a lost cause.

Roarke racked his brain as he tried to remember the questions he had written down and memorized. "How many lovers have you had?" He cringed when he blurted out the question. He had planned to ease into questions like that.

She glared at him, but didn't refuse to answer. "Just Bobby."

He groaned under his breath and suddenly felt like the most depraved man in the world. "Why?"

"Because I love him."

"No. I mean, why just Bobby?"

Mya blinked. "We've been together since I was seventeen and he was eighteen."

"How old are you now?"

"Twenty-one."

So young. Had he ever been that young or innocent? The eleven years between them might as well be

eleven thousand. "You've never wanted to be with anyone else?"

She shook her head.

"How do you know you love him if he's the only guy you've ever had?"

Mya frowned. "Can we not discuss this? I'll do whatever you want s.e.xually..." She closed her eyes to

summon the strength to continue. "...within reason, but I want to keep you-this-separate from the rest of my life. Otherwise, I'll go crazy."

He shrugged. There would be time for them to get acquainted later. "Fine. Do you like s.e.x, Mya?"

She gasped at the question, but couldn't refuse to answer. It fell within the parameters she herself had set.

She wondered how honest she should be.

"Do you love it, or do you tolerate it?"

"It's okay."

Roarke choked on the sip of tea in his mouth. She moved so gracefully, with an overt sensuality that

inspired certain expectations. That was not the answer he had expected to hear. "Just okay?"

She shrugged. What was she supposed to say? None of her female friends enjoyed s.e.x much either.

They sometimes giggled over what a fuss their partners made about the act.

"Have you ever had an o.r.g.a.s.m with Bobby?"

Mya blushed. "Yeah, of course." Twice, back in the days when they had first gotten together. Since then,

things had fizzled.

Roarke saw the blush on her face and the longing in her eyes. "I see. How did he do it?"

She cleared her throat. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Just tell me, Mya." He winked at her. "While we're talking, I'm not touching."

Her face grew even more fiery. "He..." She cleared her throat again. "His tongue," she settled for saying.

She knew she couldn't bluntly say one of the harsher terms and had always found the technical term to be even more awkward.

"Do you touch yourself, Mya?"

The way he kept saying her name caused tingles to course through her body. She frowned at her own

response, disgusted that the s.e.xy, growling tone could affect her at all. What was wrong with her?

Roarke almost laughed as she dropped her gaze from his. From her body language, he knew she did,

and that she had been taught it was wrong. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's your body. Why shouldn't you know every creamy inch, curve, indent, and sensitive spot?"

"Can we...? Ask me something else!"

He lifted a shoulder. "As soon as you answer the question. Do you?"

She kept her gaze averted as she jerked her head up and down once.

"Are you good at it?"

Mya's hazel eyes clashed with his. "What?"

"Can you make yourself come?"

Exasperated, she asked, "Do you think I'd keep doing it if I couldn't?"

Her answer caught him by surprise, and Roarke laughed aloud. Her disgruntled expression only added to

his amus.e.m.e.nt. He forced the grin from his face, because he knew his next words would p.i.s.s her off.

"Show me."

Mya jumped to her feet. "What's wrong with you?"

"I want to see how you touch yourself so I'll know how to touch you when it's my turn."

"Why would you care?"

She was honestly puzzled, and Roarke felt the first stirrings of anger for her inconsiderate lover. "I want you to get as much from this as I plan to."

She couldn't hold back a snort. "Right."

He shook his head, but didn't press the topic. "One of us will be touching you today, Mya. It's your choice."

Hot color invaded her cheeks. How was she supposed to choose? It almost seemed easier to let him do

it and get it over with than to do something so personal in front of him. However, the thought of his hands on her made her muscles clench. She balled her hands into fists and felt the short nails carve half-moons in her palms. "I'll do it."

Roarke watched and tried to remain impa.s.sive as she propped pillows against the headboard and lay down. His breath caught in his throat when she parted her legs, and he caught a glimpse of the fine, red-gold curls at the juncture of her thighs.

The breath exploded from him in a sharp gasp as she pushed the material aside to slip a finger into her folds. As he watched, entranced, she began to ma.s.sage the nubbin shyly peeking out from its hiding place. His eyes flicked to her face, and he saw she was too embarra.s.sed to be aroused. With amus.e.m.e.nt, he watched her manipulate herself for half a minute before she a.s.sumed a twisted expression, shuddered a couple of times, and relaxed.

"Can I go now?"

He laughed. "That performance might fool Bobby, but it won't work on me. We aren't leaving until you come-for real this time, please."

She scowled at him.