Page 103 of The Never List
“You’re cheating,” I say from where I sit across from Pierce at a small table, a game board with elegantly carved pieces between us.
An unfiltered laugh rumbles from Pierce’s chest as he shakes his head and leans back in his chair. “I assure you, I’m not,” he says, eyes on me as he waits for me to make my next move.
It’s hard to concentrate on the elaborate game that’s tested every ounce of my intelligence over the last two weeks since he first taught me. I can barely look at my golden pieces—half of them rest on Pierce’s side, due to his emerald pieces taking possession of them—when he looks so ridiculously handsome in nothing but a simple unbuttoned white shirt and soft black cotton pants, his feet bare. How am I expected to keep track of his strategic moves about the checkered game board when he looks like that?
We’ve barely left his cozy home in the last two weeks and haven’t changed into anything more formal than casual lounging clothes.
It’s exactly what we needed. Nothing but talking and resting and eating, falling into this wonderful, almost domestic habit, and he’s even worked with me on sometricks to use to enforce my mental shields. It’s all about the breath work.
We still haven’t crossed the intimate threshold yet. At first, exhaustion was the reasoning, but now it’s turned into a delicious game of anticipation.
I’ve enjoyed it. It’s given us time to develop an emotional connection that only heightens our already burning physical chemistry. I’ve learned so much about him and his habits, what he does when he’s not forced to be the Mind. Reading or being read to is one of them—something we share.
My favorite spot to read is tucked under one of his arms, both of us enjoying different books while also being physically close. It’s much more fun than losing this game to him over and over again, at least, but my competitive hunger has me trying to best him whenever I get the chance.
“I feel like you’re reading my mind,” I chide him as I look over my pieces and try to plot my next move.
“I’m not,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve been playing this game since before I could read. My father and I would spend hours, sometimesdaysplaying a session. I don’t expect you to beat me after only having played it two weeks.”
“I didn’t realize justhowcompetitive I was until I discovered I couldn’t beat you,” I grumble.
“Yet,”Pierce says with emphasis. “You haven’t beat meyet, my darling.”
More butterflies take flight in my stomach at the endearing way he phrases that, as if he truly believes we have a future together, enough time for me to grow my gaming skills enough to beat someone dubbed the Mind.
My fingers hover over one of my golden pieces that’s the shape of a horse, and I look to Pierce, then back down to thepiece and to him again.
He givesnothingaway, which is just as frustrating as losing to him has been every day this week.
Finally, I make my decision, confidently picking up the horse and moving it to steal one of his smaller emerald pieces. I grab it, adding it to my pile, which now consists ofthreefrom his collection.
Pierce studies the board for a moment, those brown eyes calculating before a wide smile spreads across his lips. “That was a brilliant move, darling,” he says before reaching for one of his pieces. “Truly, I mean that.”
“How dare you.” I gape at him as he makes his move, which renders itimpossiblefor me to do anything else. “You compliment me while beating me?”
Pierce laughs at my fake pout, and I rise from the table, maneuvering to sit in his lap. “It’s not fair,” I say, my fingers at his temples. “I’ll never be able to beat you. I’ll never be able to match this intellect—”
Pierce snatches one of my hands, planting a soft kiss on my palm, then the inside of my wrist, sending shock waves of heat rippling across my skin. “Don’t you dare say that,” he says in a rare commanding tone. His other arm wraps around my lower back, holding me tighter. “It is your mind, my darling, that intrigues me most. Do not insult it again in my presence.”
Tendrils of warmth tickle my insides, my heart stuttering at the idea of what he’ll do if I break that command. I know exactly what Kal and Axl would do, but I am still uncertain about Pierce.
I stick out my bottom lip, egging on my exaggeration of disappointment at losing yet again, and he flashes me achiding look.
“Darling.” He says the endearment like a plea. “You know I can’t stand it when you’re upset,” he continues. “Tell me what I can do to make it up to you. Would you like me to let you win next time—”
“Never,”I cut him off. “I will beat you one day, regardless of whether you’re the Mind or not. I just need more time, but I have to admit my brain can’t handle one more second of this game today.”
“Tonight,” Pierce corrects me, motioning to the window across his bedroom.
“Goddess,” I say. “Have we been playing almost all day?”
“Are you growing bored of it?”
“No,” I admit. “I can stay locked in this room with you for the rest of forever and die a happy woman.” The truth of that statement rolls off my lips without even a hitch.
And I soon find myself swimming in guilt instead of the flirtatious energy we possessed moments ago.
I’m not lying.
