His Kind of Perfect (Sugar Bay #1)

by Kinsley Gibb

  She picked a pool cue, the weight a familiar comfort in her hands.

  “This one okay?” She didn’t want to give away her game too early.

  He reached for it, tested its weight and rolled it on the table to check for warping. “It’s fine.” He handed it back, his smile so sexy, she almost whimpered.

  “Now for the basics. You want to relax.” He leaned over the table, demonstrating while he spoke. “Hold your fingers like this as the base for your cue stick. Slide the cue along your base before striking the white cue ball.”

  She bent forward, braced her hands on the edge in imitation.

  “Keep the motions smooth,” he reminded her.

  “Like this?” She felt sort of mean but didn’t stop.

  “Yes.” Derek stood behind her. She felt his heat and shivered in reaction.

  “You cold?” His big hands settled on her shoulders, the touch electric, making her nipples hard. He massaged her, kept the pressure light and she closed her eyes in pleasure. She wanted to drop her head and arch back in invitation but didn’t.

  “Better?” He smoothed her arms from shoulder to wrist and up again. Each pass raised the fine hairs on her arms. He pressed forward and caged her in until he positioned them behind the cue ball.

  In that moment, she understood why so many of her sorority friends had played dumb during college when it came to pool. They hadn’t cared about learning, the lure had been this illicit pleasure.

  So much for graduating summa cum laude, she’d been an idiot.

  While she’d dominated men, showed off her skills and earned their respect, her sisters had soaked up their attention. Had she known the pleasure of a man’s arms wrapped around her while he slid the cue back and forth, she might have played dumb as well.

  “Ready?” She caught a hint of peppermint he was so close.

  She turned her head and met his chocolate colored gaze. The color reminded her of her weakness for the decadent sweetness. She licked her lips. His gaze tracked the wet trail. It made her want to do it again but she didn’t, knowing what happened after she indulged when she knew she shouldn’t.

  Guilt.

  But this sort of guilt couldn’t be erased with an extra exercise session. Tempting Derek would be unwise even if she wondered how he’d taste.

  She swallowed and nodded.

  “You want to look down the pool cue and visualize a target on the ball.” He wrapped himself around her and her girl parts danced with excitement.

  “Pull back, still keeping your eye on the target, and accelerate through.”

  The cue ball struck the rack of balls and a colorful explosion ensued from the point of contact.

  “That opening move is called a break,” he said while she watched a striped yellow fall into a corner pocket.

  She stood and he followed more slowly, his body brushed against hers.

  “Nice. Thank you.”

  He stepped back, his movements slow as if he was reluctant to move away.

  “Now it’s still your turn since you got one in. Remember to aim for all the striped balls while I’ll focus on the solid colored balls. But whatever you do, don’t pocket the eight ball, the black one, until you pocket the others or you’ll scratch.”

  She nodded then remembered she wasn’t supposed to know the rules. “What’s a scratch?”

  “That’s when you lose and I win.”

  Anabelle eyed the purple striped ball, stroking the pool cue back and forth. The slow and rhythmic motion captured Derek’s attention.

  “That’s perfect Anabelle,” he said with a rough voice.

  She turned and eyed him. “Let’s make this interesting, shall we?”

  “What do you want to play for?” He looked interested even though he didn’t seem to see her as competition.

  Poor Derek.

  She tried to dredge up some sense of guilt but couldn’t. He ought to have known better than to presume she wasn’t capable.

  “I win, you donate an item for the charity auction. You win, you name your forfeit.”

  His eyes lit up and his smile turned downright smug. He seemed to think it was a sure win and she turned away before she laughed out loud.

  “Anything I want, right? A kiss?”

  She turned back and met his eyes. “Even a kiss…if you want.”

  “Oh, I want.” With a carnal look in his eyes, he towered over her, braced for battle. He looked intense, all dark and sexy, channeling his “A” game that she was almost sorry she was going to hand him his ass, because she was.

  She hadn’t lost a game of pool in ages.

  “Deal?”

  She held out her hand and he enfolded her smaller hands in his.

  “Deal,” he said but didn’t let go immediately. She felt his work roughened hands and resisted the urge to smooth his calluses. He had man hands, big and hot, the kind of hands that had never had a manicure. To this day, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t suspected Gavin was gay. Who got his and her manicures? Derek’s hands were polar opposite of Gavin’s and she liked them.

  He looked into her eyes as if trying to figure out her angle. She didn’t have one. She liked to win and wanted to beat him.

  Anabelle walked the table perimeter, judged the distance and angle of the next shot, moved into position and sank her target.

  Derek hissed and she slid her gaze towards his.

  “I think I’m being hustled.”

  “I never said I couldn’t play.”

  A heavy silence descended between them before he narrowed eyes at her. “No. You didn’t, did you?”

  “By the way, I don’t need the three game handicap.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  While he studied her, she rounded the table and assessed the next shot. She aimed, drew back and powered through, neatly sinking the blue striped ball in a side pocket.

  “Never assume.” She stood and blew the chalk from the tip like a gunslinger at high noon.

  With a wicked smile, he stalked her around the table. “Winner takes all.”

  “Okay, but no crying when you lose.”

  “I’ll try not to.” He smile was fierce, almost feral smile. The kind of smile that would have made her run if not for the strange adrenaline that pulsed through her. She took a swig of her Corona.

  “I haven’t lost in years. You don’t have a chance.” Poking the tiger was fun.

  “You sure about that? I’ve got plans for you so I’m more motivated.” He stopped at her side and slid a finger down her cheek while he stared at her lips. She ignored his provocation and pushed away, confident in her skills.

  She was going to win.

  She maneuvered into a cut shot position and he lifted a brow in challenge because it was a difficult shot to make. His gaze slid down the front of her dress and she squirmed. As she pulled the pool cue back, she wondered how much she displayed in the little black dress Charlie had forced upon her. Big mistake because the shot she’d perfected since grade school bounced off the rail and missed the pocket.

  “Fudge.”

  “Maybe a little less cocky and a little more focus, huh Anabelle?”

  She growled under her breath, annoyed at her lapse and stood. A solid wall of man greeted her.

  “My turn,” he drawled and winked. “Brace your self.”

  He set her aside, moved around the table, and studied the game like a man on a mission.

  Derek made quick decisions and sank three solids in a row. With each resounding thud, she felt less certain about the outcome. The irony had her shaking her head.

  Time for a little distraction.

  She looked at his upcoming shot and sat on the edge of the table with her cue between her knees. Derek paused by her side and she stifled a grin. “You putting up a roadblock?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I see. Guess you’re not above a little cheating?”

  She shrugged. “I think of it as ensuring your donation to a worthy cause.”

  “Right
. It has nothing to do with losing.”

  “Absolutely not. You like a challenge, I’m providing one.” She settled in place. “In fact, make this shot and you can name an extra forfeit.” She grinned. There was no way he could make it with her in the way.

  “Regardless of whether I win the game or not?”

  “Yep. A completely separate deal.”

  “Deal.” He stepped closer, brushed against her and crowded her to get into position. The spicy scent of him surrounded her and because she couldn’t help herself, she took a forbidden breath.

  Maybe this hadn’t been the best plan.

  She straightened, her posture rigid, and avoided any unnecessary touching yet he had no such qualms. Derek took delight in torturing her. He leaned in, his shoulders brushing the front of her dress, and the contact drew out her nipples, evidenced by the shamefully hard tips.

  A moan escaped before she could control it.

  He turned abruptly and sought her gaze. His hot gaze singed her and she licked her lips in response.

  “You do what you have to do, and I’ll do what I have to do.” With that he took aim and struck the ball with a hard motion. The force propelled the ball to strike its target, and sent it against the opposing rail before ricocheting back to the pocket adjacent to her.

  “Incredible,” she breathed. That shot required more than basic skills.

  While her heart thundered in her chest, he took his time uncurling to his full height. She watched as he put his pool cue on the table, careful to keep it separate from the remaining balls in play. With a determined look in his eyes, he caged her within the circle of his arms. She shrank back, her balance precarious because she didn’t want to fall onto the green felt.

  “Time to pay up, hot shot.”

  His eyes smoldered, the intensity within them demanded her response. She couldn’t remain still and shifted against him, keeping her knees together lest he catch her aroused scent.

  “Not until after.”

  “What if you’re a sore loser and try to stiff me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I would never.”

  “Come on…a little kiss, as forfeit.”

  Her grip on the pool cue tightened. She couldn’t believe she was considering his request. Derek’s gaze remained hot and steady as he waited. Each breath caused her dress to abrade her nipples, the pointed buds stood at painful attention. She glanced around at the few patrons scattered around.

  “You’re safe. We’re in a public bar. Not much can happen.”

  Did that mean, had they been alone, she wouldn’t be safe? She hesitated, the only sound between them was the nervous bounce of the pool cue, evidence of her tension. He placed his hands over hers and stilled the movement. He pushed her knees apart and stepped between them. Her heart skipped a beat before it took off in a pounding rhythm.

  “Are you’re reneging?” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Anabelle, Anabelle…” he whispered in her ear.

  She exhaled in a rush. “Okay then, one quick peck.”

  “Hmmm…if that’s all you can do.” His eyes mocked her. He’d heard her tirade today. He knew she wanted to break free of the good girl expectations. “Come on, wild thing,” he whispered. They locked gazes, a showdown of who would blink first commenced.

  She lost.

  Derek tugged the pool cue she kept between them, but she refused to let go. Its presence served as protection. He smiled and let her keep her delusions. Instead he leaned close, crowding her once again.

  “Your move.” He lifted a brow, his smile daring her to make the first move.

  She licked her dry lips and his gaze darkened. She inched closer and placed her free palm on his shirt. The cool, crisp cotton contrasted with the heat that emanated from his body.

  The memory of a shirtless Derek teased her, demanded that she satisfy her curiosity. There would be no other opportunity. She pressed against him.

  His sharp inhale demanded her attention and she caught her breath at the hunger in his heavy lidded eyes. He remained still, his muscles locked while she explored, smoothing a path up from his chest. The mounds of hard muscles so different from hers.

  She snaked a hand behind his neck, pulled him down to her level while he waited in silence. She saw the question in his eyes. She knew he wasn’t certain she would follow through. For a second, she closed her eyes, committing the moment to memory. She would relive each second over and over again in private.

  The clean scent of soap, peppermint and hot male wrapped itself around her. For the rest of her life, she would associate Irish Spring with this man.

  Derek shifted closer and placed his palms below her waist, his hand burned through the thin material. She shuddered, her resolve to ensure distance between them weakened but then she remembered his age, her mother’s censure, and the small town gossip she couldn’t escape.

  She nudged the pool cue between them. “Hands on the stick.” She glared in case he thought she was kidding. She wasn’t. She was tired of being the subject of pity and gossip. He eyed her in amusement but obliged, only nudging it a little to the left so he could see her better.

  Her gaze slipped to his lips. The firm, sensuous flesh beckoned. It would be easy to get lost in his kiss. The public venue would ensure nothing untoward could happen. This was her chance to discover what a kiss with a heterosexual man entailed.

  Still, she waited. Indecision gripped her. Want and fear warred inside her.

  A quick glance at his expression told her he’d wait as long as she needed. He seemed to understand she was on the cusp of change.

  Her eyelids drifted closed, she stretched and brushed her lips against his.

  Once.

  Twice.

  She pulled back and waited for his reaction.

  A smile flirted at his mouth. He licked his lips. “You call that a kiss?”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “That was pathetic.”

  So for all the spinsters in the world, all the forgotten ones, all the wallflowers who yearned to be a part of the game, she closed her eyes and let her inner slut loose.

  Derek groaned against her lips.

  Son of a bitch.

  He’d long suspected Anabelle was a reservoir of untapped fire, but this kiss…it was beyond his expectations. It was hot, wet and luscious. Tongues tangled, teeth grazed until they found the perfect angle, lips were nibbled then bitten, before the hurt was sucked away. Anabelle climbed his chest and he urged her with his free hand. The other still held the damn pool cue so tight, he was afraid he might break the thing. He was glad she’d insisted on her “protection” because that was the only thing saving them from public indecency.

  Anabelle was a closet sensualist.

  Have mercy.

  Somehow he found the willpower to break their kiss. It wasn’t easy but if they got arrested for lewd and lascivious behavior, she’d retreat into her shell again and never come out. After a year of waiting, he didn’t want to start at square one again.

  The sight of her soft, swollen lips parted in welcome made him groan. He dropped his head for one last kiss when the sound of breaking glass stopped him and he was never more grateful for the intrusion. Slowly the sound of their harsh breathing was overridden by the chattering of patrons, the clanging of the glasses and since it was retro night, the snarling of Def Leopard singing about pouring some sugar.

  “Derek—“

  “Annabelle, please. Give me a second.” He held her away and focused on breathing.

  She blinked a few times, almost like she didn’t know what had happened. He wanted to laugh but he couldn’t, his body was in too much pain. The next few moments were spent reigning control over his aroused body.

  When he succeeded, he let go of the damn stick and stepped away from temptation. The mindless chore of applying chalk to the pool cue helped to remind him of the ultimate prize. Because he wanted that more than anything, he needed to focus on winning.

  “Where were we?”
<
br />   Anabelle blinked. To say she was bemused was an understatement. His transition from their scorching hot kiss to business as usual was lightning fast while her pace was more like a dehydrated turtle lumbering along, sort of pathetic.

  The moment she slid off the table her legs wobbled. Not good. She corrected herself and reached for the pool chalk. Two could play at this.

  The game had taken on additional meaning. For her, the stakes were high. If she lost, the temptation to kiss him again may be too much and if she ended up throwing herself at him and became the source of pity, it would change the dynamics between them.

  If he lost, he’d donate to a worthy cause.

  She had more to lose so she had to win. Their single kiss had singed all her working brain cells to the point she was still off balanced. There was no way she’d survive another. She’d go down in a blaze of unadulterated lustful glory, which wouldn’t do at all.

  Gone was the charmer with an easy smile and warm gaze; in his place was a man clearly focused on his mission. From the hard look in his eyes, his forfeit may be more than a single kiss.

  She shivered and he shot her a glance.

  His carnal look scorched her and she inhaled sharply. A quiet and watchful Derek was new. His desire to win was evident in his every move, efficient, purposeful. He didn’t plan on losing.

  Too darn bad.

  He wouldn’t get an easy victory from her. Game on.

  She stalked to the edge and searched for any and all angles of attack.

  Silence ruled their corner of Finn’s.

  He was still ahead so he took his aim, pocketing an easy one. The next shot was more difficult. As he took aim, Anabelle tripped.

  “Oops.”

  He gave her a narrow eyed glare after he missed his target.

  She shrugged. “Sue me, I’m clumsy.”

  Regardless of the cheating, it was her turn and she moved into play, lining up her shot. Two more and she’d win. The first sank in quickly; the soft thunk, music to her ears. She grinned and heard him growl.