Page 9 of A Hellion's Christmas Kiss
Rosella’s heart fluttered. She would do anything if it meant spending more time with him. If Lucian wanted to teach her, she would gladly learn. “All right,” she agreed. “Let’s play.”
Lucian moved to the table and began gathering the items they needed to play. He retrieved the necessary balls—two white and one red—and chose a cue stick from the rack. Handing it to her, he asked, “I trust you know the basic rules?”
“I do,” she confirmed.
“Good,” he said, motioning toward the table. “We will start with something simple. Try to hit the red ball into a pocket without committing a hazard.”
Rosella leaned over the table, aligning her cue stick as best she could. Drawing back, she struck the white ball, but it spun miserably, missing the red ball entirely and rolling straight into a pocket. She sighed, straightening. “I told you I was terrible.”
“And that is why I am here,” he said with a grin. “To help you improve.”
He reset the balls on the table, his movements calm and deliberate. “Line it up as you did before,” he instructed, “but do not take the shot until I say.”
Rosella complied, leaning over the table once more. Her breath caught when Lucian stepped behind her, placing his hands over hers to guide her grip. His body pressed lightly against hers, and warmth flooded her cheeks. This was…scandalous. And yet, she could not bring herself to care.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Helping you,” he murmured, his tone low and smooth. “Hold steady, darling. I’ve got you.”
Her heart raced as he prepared to guide her movements. For a fleeting moment, the game of billiards became utterly irrelevant. All that mattered was Lucian—his nearness, his touch, and the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he felt the same longing she did. Still she did not move. He had not told her to strike the ball, and she feared even when he did she would be unable to comply. She was that riveted by him, and the potential for something far more than a mere game of billiards could offer her.
Lucian took a deep breath, drawing in her delicate scent. His body stirred, and he feared she might feel the evidence of his arousal if he pressed too close. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her. But he wanted her—desperately. Leaning down, he whispered near her ear, his voice low and rough. “I am going to guide your stroke so you can feel the proper movement.” He barely cared about the billiards game. This was for her—an excuse to be near her, to hold her in the only way he dared. “Do not fight me. Just let it happen.”
He wondered if he was asking too much.
“All right,” she said, her voice slightly breathless.
Placing his hands over hers, Lucian slowly guided the cue stick back, then slid it forward across the table. The white ball rolled smoothly, striking the red ball and sending it into the pocket. “There,” he said, stepping back reluctantly. Already, he mourned the loss of her warmth against him and wished he had an excuse to pull her close again. He retrieved the balls and reset them on the table. “Now, try it again on your own.”
Rosella approached the table with renewed confidence. She leaned over, focused intently, and took her shot. The white ball glided across the table and struck the red ball, which dropped cleanly into the pocket. She grinned triumphantly. “I did it!”
“You did, darling,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard, suppressing a groan as his desire for her swelled.
Lucian was impressed by her quick progress, though a small part of him was disappointed. He had hoped she might require more of his assistance—more moments of closeness. “How did you not learn this already?” he asked, his tone teasing. “I thought you said your brother taught you.”
“He did,” she replied with a shrug. “But clearly, he is not as good a teacher as you.”
He chuckled. “Do you want to play a full game, or would you prefer more lessons?” He secretly hoped she would choose the latter. He relished the excuse to remain close to her.
“I think we can play,” she said, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I know the rules, and the only way I will improve is to practice.”
“Are you certain?” His tone held a hint of persuasion. “I do not mind taking more time to show you the finer points.” Truthfully, he longed to teach her far more than billiards. He wanted to strip away the layers of propriety between them, to kiss every inch of her soft, enticing skin, and make her his. Thoughts of her consumed him day and night, tormenting him with unfulfilled desire.
“I am certain,” she said, her smile deepening. “Perhaps we could make it more interesting. Do you feel like placing a wager?”
“No,” he replied firmly. “I am not about to take advantage of your inexperience. That would not be very sporting.” His lips twitched as he fought a smile. As tempting as it was to wager for a kiss, Lucian could not bring himself to exploit her lack of skill.
“Fair enough,” she agreed. “What shall we play to?”
“We will keep it simple—first to six points wins,” he suggested. “It is more of a practice game.”
“That sounds reasonable,” she said, nodding. “Perhaps we can play for a higher total another time.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, and he longed to know her thoughts. What was going on in that beautiful head of hers? Did she wish for more between them as he did?
“You may go first,” he offered, confident in his own abilities. Letting her start gave her a slight advantage.
Rosella leaned over the table, her cue stick poised to strike. The white ball rolled forward, hitting the red ball cleanly and sinking it into the pocket. She beamed. “I did it!”
“You did, darling,” he said softly, barely containing his longing.
