Evaline:

I curled my fingers around his calf through his pants, lightly tracing the muscle beneath. His entire body went still for a second.

His jaw tightened.

He slowly lowered his laptop screen.

Then he looked down at me with the absolute flattest expression.

"Evaline."

"Hm?"

"Are you-" His voice sounded strained. "-attempting to seduce me to avoid training?"

Silence.

I blinked.

He blinked.

"…No?" I lied shamelessly.

He let out a long, slow inhale through his nose. "Liar," he murmured like a warning.

But his voice had already softened.

He reached down, cupping my chin gently between his fingers, forcing my eyes to meet his.

"You don't like long sessions?" he asked quietly.

"No," I admitted instantly. "I hate them. I'm tired. I haven't had a day off in three weeks."

His thumb brushed my cheek, slow and warm.

I leaned into it without thinking.

He sighed, a soft exhale that ruffled the strands of hair near my forehead.

"You should have told me earlier."

"I'm telling you now," I whispered.

He studied me for a moment - my face, my tired eyes, probably the tension in my shoulders. And like always, he saw right through me.

"You are overworked," he said softly. "You are improving, yes, but we have been pushing you too hard."

Finally, someone said it.

"So…" I asked hopefully, "…no two-hour training?"

His lips curved.

A small, warm, absolutely unfair smile.

"No two-hour training," he murmured, leaning forward until his forehead touched mine. "You can rest today. Go. Enjoy. Relax. Do whatever you want."

I melted.

Absolutely melted.

But then he added in a teasing murmur...

"And seduction tactics are not allowed during negotiation, little one."

I gasped. "I did no such thing!"

He chuckled.

"Of course not," he teased. "You simply sat between my legs, touched my hair, and traced your fingers down my leg out of pure innocence."

I opened my mouth, then closed it and turned back to face his laptop. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Sure." He chuckled again as he returned his attention to work.

For next five or so minutes, I just sat there in silence while he worked.

But now that my wish was fulfilled and the looming two-hour torture session had officially been cancelled, my mind was already cooking something else.

Something dangerous.

Something fun.

Something that involved Kieran's self-control - which, as I had previously discovered, was not as unshakable as he liked to pretend.

I turned around slowly, pretending to stretch my neck, and looked up at him again.

He ignored me.

Or at least tried to.

His fingers were moving across the keyboard, eyes narrowed in concentration. Perfectly calm. Perfectly composed.

So I did the only reasonable thing.

I moved.

One second I was simply leaning back against his knee.

The next... I pushed up on my hands and leaned toward him, closing the distance so suddenly that he froze.

His breath caught.

His head dipped toward mine, expecting... clearly expecting a kiss.

I could practically feel the anticipation rolling off him.

Just when his lips were a breath away from mine…

I turned my head.

And instead of kissing him, I buried my face in his hair.

"Mmm."

It really did smell good.

Warm. Floral. Clean.

Like he had walked through a field of night-blooming flowers.

I inhaled dramatically, then pulled back with the sweetest, most innocent expression I could muster.

"I knew it," I announced softly. "There was a nice scent coming from your hair."

His entire body went rigid.

I blinked up at him. "Let me check your shampoo later, okay?"

Then I settled back down between his legs as if absolutely nothing had happened, just in time to catch his fingers clench around the laptop's edge.

Oh, he was disappointed.

Beautifully, deliciously disappointed.

It took everything in me not to grin like a maniac.

I was liking this game far too much.

I let another minute or two pass... long enough for him to attempt regaining his composure, long enough for his focus to return to work again... before turning my head up at him once more.

This time, I rested the back of my head against his knee, forcing him to look down to meet my gaze.

He didn't at first.

But then… slowly… he tore his eyes away from the laptop and looked right at me.

Directly into my eyes.

I held his gaze for a breath.

Then another.

Then, very deliberately, I let my eyes drop.

To his lips.

His breath hitched.

My own lips parted slightly.

I looked back up at him.

One beat.

Two.

He leaned in.

Slowly.

Drawn in like I had hooked him with invisible fingers.

So close…

Closer…

I waited for the perfect moment...

And right when I felt the faint brush of his breath on my skin...

I turned my head. Again.

And calmly picked up my phone from the coffee table.

"Anyway," I said, pulling away from him just a little, "you can continue working. I'm going to call Mallory-"

I didn't even finish the sentence before a firm hand closed around my wrist.

And in one sharp, effortless pull, I was dragged right back into place - my head once again resting on his knee, my body caged between his legs.

He looked down at me with an expression that sent a thrill… and a warning… down my spine.

Game over.

His voice dropped, deep and dangerous and thick with restrained patience.

"Enough."

My mouth opened - probably to argue, probably to pretend innocence a little longer... but I didn't get a single word out.

His hand slid behind my neck.

Warm. Possessive. Unyielding.

And then he leaned down and kissed me.

Hard.

The world fell away.

His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that stole the air from my lungs.

His fingers tightened at the nape of my neck, holding me exactly where he wanted me as he deepened the kiss without hesitation - no restraint left, no composure, nothing but raw, heated desire.

I gasped into the kiss and he swallowed the sound, his lips moving over mine in long, consuming strokes that made my toes curl and my heart race.

He kissed me like he had been starving. Like every tease, every dodge, every stolen breath I had denied him was now being collected in full.

My fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He went willingly.

More than willingly.

He followed me down as I sank back against the rug, his body lowering until he hovered over me. His hair fell forward, brushing my cheek, his breath warm against my lips as he kissed me deeper... slow and then fast, soft and then demanding, as if he couldn't decide what he wanted more - to devour me or savor me.

His weight braced above mine, his arm caging me in as his mouth moved against mine with a passion I could feel all the way down to my bones.

There was no doubt left who had won the game.

He had.

But stars…

I didn't mind losing at all.