I narrow my gaze on her. "What about a game of Monopoly is too personal to discuss? How can a wee metal cat fash you?"
"It's not the cat." She squeezes her eyes shut and pulls in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly as she opens her lids. "I landed in jail."
"I can't see the significance."
She shakes her head. "It's not important. Can we please move on so I can get the hell out of jail?"
If I can't ask her about her problems, maybe I can help her another way. I have an idea, but aye, it's devious. Donnae care. I need to make her feel better.
She might be annoyed that I've ruined our game. Why? She clearly hadn't cared when I started losing on purpose.
I snatch up her piece and plunk the wee cat down one square forward. Grinning, I announce, "There. Problem solved."
Her lips tighten into a closed-mouth smile, and she touches two fingertips to them. "I would've gotten out on the next move anyway, but thank you."
"What's a jailbreak between fr—companions." I'd been about to use the word friends, but this is meant to be a casual acquaintance.Bollocks.
She gestures toward the board. "Still your turn."
I keep my gaze nailed to hers while I lean forward, lift the dice near my mouth, and blow on them.
Her tongue darts across her bottom lip.
I toss the dice.
She waves a hand almost as if she's fanning herself, then her eyes flare wide for a split second, and she shoves her hands under her thighs.
The lass wants me as much as I want her. I'd already known that, but I love watching her struggle with her lust. It makes me fantasize about all the ways I can give her pleasure.
We go back to playing the game.
Forty-five minutes later, I raise my hands in surrender. "The wee lassie is victorious."
"I'd think a financial consultant would be better at Monopoly." She angles her head to squint at me. "You let me win, didn't you?"
With a snort, I wave my hand to dismiss the idea.
Springing forward, her expression almost excited, she jabs a finger in my direction. "You did."
"Does it matter?"
She hisses out a breath, but I suspect she's being sarcastic. "Not very satisfying to win because your opponent gave up."
"A gentleman never bankrupts the woman he plans to seduce." I lean forward too, bringing our faces to within inches of each other. "Would a prize heal your wounded dignity?"
"Depends on what the prize is."
I settle back into the armchair, knees spread wide, and lock my hands behind my head. I can't resist roaming my gaze over her luscious body from head to toe and back again. "I can think of one or two rewards we'd both enjoy."
"I bet you can."
Bending forward again, I collect up the paltry bankroll I have left and stretch further across the table to snatch up Erica's much larger pile of winnings. My head has wound up inches away from her lovely knees, and I turn my face up to her. "Time to relinquish your treasure to the banker."
She lays her hand on mine, the warmth and softness of her palm far too enticing, then she scoops up all the toy money. "Not so fast, Scot. Maybe I want a rematch."
"Happy to oblige." My attention veers to the hallway, and my mind torments me with fantasies of tossing her over my shoulder and carrying her into the bedroom. My cock twitches, fancying the idea. I drop the toy money, flip my hand over, and clasp my fingers around her wrist gently. "You're sweeter than Atholl Brose, and I'm aiming to taste ye tonight."
"Uh…" She clamps her knees together. "Um, well, that sounds… What on earth is Atholl Brose? Is that some kind of Gaelic sex slang?"