Page 37 of A Rogue's Rules for Seduction
“Wearegoing to win,” she said in a quieter, less certain voice, once Kieran was behind them. “Aren’t we, Dom?”
“Sure as hell going to try.”
That seemed to satisfy her, because she was silent once more. They broke free from the garden’s wildness and he dashed back the way they had come. Ahead, the spectators cheered at their approach.
Reaching the portion of the lawn where the game was taking place, he fought to stay standing, and to carefully lower Willa down until her feet touched the grass. He bent over double, bracing his hands on his thighs as he fought for breath.
Willa’s face appeared as she crouched down in front of him. “Water? Wine?Anything?”
“Just... the... victory,” he growled.
She handed him his racket, and, when he felt slightly certain he wasn’t going to die from a cardiac seizure, he straightened. Just in time, too, because Kieran and Celeste approached—though they looked bedraggled as they staggered across the lawn.
“I’ll serve,” Willa said, sounding steadier than she had earlier.
He could only nod.
The next five and twenty volleys were the most important of his life. Tension climbed moment by moment as the shuttlecock arced back and forth between him and Willa, climbing, each stroke of their rackets making excitement and the need for release climb higher.
Back and forth, back and forth. The rhythmbuilding and building. They were in perfect harmony, every swing and hit raising the tension.Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine.
And then...
“One hundred,” Willa cried with the final successful volley.
For the first time in over a decade, Dom feared he might spend in his breeches. And it wasn’t helped when a triumphant Willa tossed her racket aside and launched herself into his arms.
“The victors,” she exclaimed jubilantly.
Groans rose up from those teams that were still competing, including Kieran and Celeste, while the spectators cheered and lifted their glasses in salute.
“The winners are Mr. Kilburn and Lady Willa,” Longbridge announced.
Dom didn’t care. He was aware of one thing, and one thing only.
It had been over a year since he’d had Willa in his embrace. And now that she was holding him, and he her, every moment was to be savored. She was abundant with curves, simmering with energy beneath his hands, and as she bounced excitedly on her feet, her breasts did a damned nice thing that felt incredible against his chest. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her spiced fragrance deliciously underscored by the tang of fresh perspiration. And a hint of wine.
He stiffened. Whatever affection she felt for himnow was because of the two glasses of claret she’d downed like a sailor not twenty minutes ago. He’d be a fucking bastard if he took advantage of her in her drink-befuddled state, or believed that she truly wanted to be in his arms. No matter how much he wanted her there.
Carefully, he removed himself from her hold, and urged her backward so that there was plenty of distance between them. His hands dropped to his sides but the feel of her burned into his skin.
She blinked in confusion, and a moment later, she looked hurt. Then that was gone, too, as she turned to face Kieran.
“You willneveragain best me, brother,” she announced haughtily. “From this moment forward.”
“Misjudge her at your risk,” Dom added.
She cast him a quick glance, one he couldn’t read, before aiming her attention at a winded Kieran.
“I yield to the champions.” Her brother held up his hands in surrender.
Longbridge approached, a bottle of wine in each hand. “As promised, your prizes.”
“I forfeit my reward,” Willa said, turning faintly green. She glanced at Dom and she appeared far more wounded than suffering from a sore head or sick stomach. “And I’ve played enough games to last me the rest of my years.”
At that, she spun on her heel and marched with surprising speed back toward the house.
“These are yours,” Longbridge said.
