“I’ll take that as my first compliment, and that’s quite a lot of honesty there, Sir, are you drunk?”
His lips lift even higher. “Maybe a little.”
I narrow my eyes. “I knew you polished that half a bottle off while I was in the shower. I hadn’t imagined seeing it. Stingy.”
“Sorry,” he says unapologetically.
It’s so insincere, I laugh. “Oh, I can tell just how sorry you are, thief.”
He makes his first move.
“Nous entraînons-nous ce soir?” Are we practicing tonight? I ask when I push a pawn into play.
“Peut-être.” Maybe.
“Où vas-tu m’emmener?” Where will you take me? I ask, licking my lips clean and savoring every drop.
“J’étais en train de penser à te pencher sur ce canapé.” I was thinking I would bend you over that couch. “But if you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it that far.”
I roll my eyes. “Je voulais dire en France, pervers. Où m’emmènerais-tu en premier?” I meant in France, you pervert. Where would you take me first?”
“Easy,” he says, frowning at the board, “The Eiffel Tower.”
“En français, s’il te plaît.” In French, please. “And that’s the last thing I expected you to say.”
“Why? Isn’t that what all those traveling to France dream of seeing first? Who am I to deny you?” He reads my deflated posture. “You had something more personal in mind?”
“Your favorite places. And I wouldn’t mind going down memory lane with you. Seeing where you went to school. Meeting some of your college friends.”
“I don’t have friends.”
“Not one?”
He sits back against the fireplace. “I don’t have the type of friends to look up and have drinks with when I’m there. Not in that way.” There’s a hint of melancholy in his voice, and I understand why it’s there. He was far too busy playing grown-up to have a life of his own. Been there.
“So, you never kicked back, relaxed? Aside from banging lingerie models?”
“Non.”
“Well, I’ll be your friend,” I say easily. “I’ll be your best friend, but that requires far more effort, at some point, you’re going to have to tell me where you live, let me snoop through your bedroom and tell me about the first time you got your period.”
This earns me a dead stare just before he takes another of my pieces. I scrunch my nose in frustration. “I’m never going to get good at this.”
“Because you don’t want to get good at it. I’m going to beat you again. But the good news is your French tongue is no longer complete shit. Though it could use some improvements.”
“Oh, yeah? I’m pretty sure you love my tongue by the way you were sucking on it not too long ago.”
Face inscrutable, he nods to me. “Your move.”
“I’ll let you win.”
He lifts burning eyes to mine. “Why?”
“Because I want you to win, so our tongues can negotiate your last statement.”
“There you go, mixing business and pleasure. You’ll never learn.”
I drain my glass and set it down before lifting on all fours.