But his finger brushed over her lips. "Taste."
He was all around her, in her blood, in her breath. Losing her train of thought, she closed her teeth over the pastry he put to her lips. The flaky stuff just about melted in her mouth, and she licked her lips without thinking about it.
Zach seemed to go very still, but when he spoke, his words were light. "Guess?"
"Danish."
"Wrong." She went to open her eyes, but he said, "No, keep them shut."
"Why?"
"I'm going to give you another shot. Right now, you owe a single forfeit. Let's see if we can even the decks."
"Forfeit?" She wondered why the thought sent excitement arcing through her. "You never said anything about a forfeit."
"You never asked."
As she'd thought—playing with this cat was an invitation to trouble. "Now I am."
"Later. First, taste this." He put something else to her mouth, and she bit down, determined to get it this time—he sounded far too delighted by the idea of having her owe him a forfeit.
She smiled. "Blueberry muffin."
A finger brushed over her lips, making her eyes snap open. "A crumb," he said.
"Oh."
He didn't smile this time, watching her with an intensity that reminded her that for all his playfulness, he was a DarkRiver soldier. And DarkRiver controlled the greater San Francisco area. More than that, they were allied with the bloodthirsty SnowDancer wolves.
"What're you thinking?" he asked her.
"That you're dangerous."
"Not to you," he said. "I wouldn't bite unless you asked very nicely."
Heat flooded her cheeks at the teasing promise, and she was more than glad to hear the coffeemaker ping. "Coffee's done, I'll grab it."
He let her go, but she had a feeling the game had only just begun. And that she was the prey.
Zach wanted to groan in frustration as he watched Annie move about the kitchen. He'd come within an inch of kissing the life out of her when she'd licked her lips. Perfect, luscious, bitable lips. He'd resisted the temptation for two reasons. One, the cat liked the chase. And two, the man liked the idea of having Annie melt at his touch. He planned to seduce her until she purred for him.
"Coffee." She put a cup in front of him, and he took a sip, attempting to behave when what he really wanted to do was haul her close and just take. Patience, he told himself. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Annie with the wild fury of his hunger.
"It's good." Sighing in appreciation, he passed her the muffin and a flaky croissant with a chocolate center. "The reason for your forfeit."
She scowled at the pain au chocolat. "So do the win and loss cancel each other out?"
"No. I'll collect my forfeit." His eyes drifted to her lips and lingered there. "A kiss, Annie. You owe me a kiss."
Her lips parted, her breath whispering out in a soft gasp. "And"—she coughed—"my winnings?"
"I'll give them to you later today." He wanted to drink up the scent of her, spiced as it was by the seduction of her growing arousal. However that arousal was nowhere near enough to satiate the savagery of his own need. But the cat was a patient hunter. By the time this day was through, he planned to have coaxed and tempted Annie Kildaire until she was as desperate for him as he was for her. "Now eat, or we'll be late."
She nibbled at her croissant, shooting him quick glances as he finished off the bagel he'd bought for himself. "When are you going to . . . collect?" she asked afterward, clearing away the cups with feminine efficiency that failed to mask her responsive awareness.
"I've got all day." He slid off the stool and smiled. "Ready?"
"You look very much the cat when you smile that way," she said. "You're enjoying teasing me."