doing the dishes with me. I’m not leaving poor Mrs. March to deal with all of this when she gets back.”
Doing his best, he followed Kat’s lead on the dishes, but he quickly discovered that he did not like to wash things in the sink. The entire time she was giggling and trying to hide it, as though his inability to use a scrub brush was hilarious.
“You know I’m going to make you pay for this. In bed. With lots of sex.” He winked at her. There were a hundred ways he wanted to punish his little Kitty-Kat, and he had a drawerful of toys in his bedroom to use on her.
“Everyone should know how to clean dishes. Even aristocrats.”
Her laughter, which followed, was musical, and the sweet sound of it punched him in the gut. His heart gave a strange rush of quick beats before it calmed again. Lord, she was beautiful, and it wasn’t just her killer curves, but the way a twinkle brightened her gray eyes and how her smile made her face light up.
As Kat set the last dish into the dishwasher, Tristan tossed the brush into the sink and groaned. “Tell me we’re done with this.” He waved a hand at the counter.
She studied the kitchen; it looked almost as spotless as when they had entered. “I think so. What do you want to do next?” Kat wiped her hands dry on a towel and turned to face him.
Tristan cocked a brow. “I seem to remember someone promising to be in my bed, naked, on hands and knees…Ring any bells?” he teased.
“Right.” Kat flushed and glanced down, a tad bashful.
He curled his arms around her back, holding her close. “What’s this? Getting shy on me? I’m afraid we can’t have that.” He met her gaze. “Why don’t we play a game of billiards?” That sounded innocent enough. She wouldn’t know until it was too late that he intended to break down some of those modesty barriers in a creative way.
“Pool? I’d like that. I’m not very good, but I can play.” She grinned.
“Excellent.” He was damned good at pool and had a very good idea of how to strip his little American stepsister out of all those pesky clothes she didn’t need.
Merry Christmas to me…
Chapter 6
T ristan took Kat to the large entertainment room on the first floor. It had once been his grandfather’s cigar and brandy room, but had since been converted to a sort of “man cave,” with a billiard table, leather couches, and a sixty-five-inch flat-screen TV on one wall. The low-hanging lamps above the billiard table illuminated the green felt when Tristan turned on the lights.
“Select a few cues. I’ll pour us some brandy.” He headed to the liquor cabinet by the TV and poured two glasses before coming back to her.
A pair of cues rested on the felt and Kat was positioning the balls inside the wooden triangle.
“Solids or stripes?” she asked as she tucked the last ball inside with the others.
“Solids.” He set the white ball down on the black dot and lifted his cue. “But let’s make it interesting.”
“Okay.” Kat carefully extracted the wooden triangle and set it back on the rack by the extra cues. “Like a wager on who wins?”
“Something like that. How about”—Tristan leaned over the table, cue ready for his shot—“whoever sinks their ball in a pocket gets to pick an item of clothing to remove from the other person.”
Kat’s eyes glinted as she regarded him silently for a long moment. “One question. Do socks count as two items or the pair as one?”
Chuckling, Tristan smacked the white ball hard and it knocked all the other balls into a wild disarray on the table.
“Definitely one.” He wanted to get her naked as fast as he could.
“My turn.” Kat bumped him away from the table with her hip and prepared for her shot. Rather than watch her take her turn, he stared at her delectable arse, wishing it was bare so he could stroke the soft skin.
“Yes!” Kat whooped and straightened, pointing her cue at a striped ball that had just dropped into a corner pocket.
Doing his best, he followed Kat’s lead on the dishes, but he quickly discovered that he did not like to wash things in the sink. The entire time she was giggling and trying to hide it, as though his inability to use a scrub brush was hilarious.
“You know I’m going to make you pay for this. In bed. With lots of sex.” He winked at her. There were a hundred ways he wanted to punish his little Kitty-Kat, and he had a drawerful of toys in his bedroom to use on her.
“Everyone should know how to clean dishes. Even aristocrats.”
Her laughter, which followed, was musical, and the sweet sound of it punched him in the gut. His heart gave a strange rush of quick beats before it calmed again. Lord, she was beautiful, and it wasn’t just her killer curves, but the way a twinkle brightened her gray eyes and how her smile made her face light up.
As Kat set the last dish into the dishwasher, Tristan tossed the brush into the sink and groaned. “Tell me we’re done with this.” He waved a hand at the counter.
She studied the kitchen; it looked almost as spotless as when they had entered. “I think so. What do you want to do next?” Kat wiped her hands dry on a towel and turned to face him.
Tristan cocked a brow. “I seem to remember someone promising to be in my bed, naked, on hands and knees…Ring any bells?” he teased.
“Right.” Kat flushed and glanced down, a tad bashful.
He curled his arms around her back, holding her close. “What’s this? Getting shy on me? I’m afraid we can’t have that.” He met her gaze. “Why don’t we play a game of billiards?” That sounded innocent enough. She wouldn’t know until it was too late that he intended to break down some of those modesty barriers in a creative way.
“Pool? I’d like that. I’m not very good, but I can play.” She grinned.
“Excellent.” He was damned good at pool and had a very good idea of how to strip his little American stepsister out of all those pesky clothes she didn’t need.
Merry Christmas to me…
Chapter 6
T ristan took Kat to the large entertainment room on the first floor. It had once been his grandfather’s cigar and brandy room, but had since been converted to a sort of “man cave,” with a billiard table, leather couches, and a sixty-five-inch flat-screen TV on one wall. The low-hanging lamps above the billiard table illuminated the green felt when Tristan turned on the lights.
“Select a few cues. I’ll pour us some brandy.” He headed to the liquor cabinet by the TV and poured two glasses before coming back to her.
A pair of cues rested on the felt and Kat was positioning the balls inside the wooden triangle.
“Solids or stripes?” she asked as she tucked the last ball inside with the others.
“Solids.” He set the white ball down on the black dot and lifted his cue. “But let’s make it interesting.”
“Okay.” Kat carefully extracted the wooden triangle and set it back on the rack by the extra cues. “Like a wager on who wins?”
“Something like that. How about”—Tristan leaned over the table, cue ready for his shot—“whoever sinks their ball in a pocket gets to pick an item of clothing to remove from the other person.”
Kat’s eyes glinted as she regarded him silently for a long moment. “One question. Do socks count as two items or the pair as one?”
Chuckling, Tristan smacked the white ball hard and it knocked all the other balls into a wild disarray on the table.
“Definitely one.” He wanted to get her naked as fast as he could.
“My turn.” Kat bumped him away from the table with her hip and prepared for her shot. Rather than watch her take her turn, he stared at her delectable arse, wishing it was bare so he could stroke the soft skin.
“Yes!” Kat whooped and straightened, pointing her cue at a striped ball that had just dropped into a corner pocket.
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