by Aleah Barley
And that made gaining access to his laptop even more of a challenge…not that Ryan wouldn’t rise to the occasion. If he couldn’t make friends with the man then he’d just have to do things the old-fashioned way, breaking into Blethins’s room at the first opportunity.
But that would have to be tomorrow.
Tonight he had a poker lesson to give.
“You got some cards?” he asked. Maybe he should run back to his room and grab a deck. He could run his head under some cold water while he was there.
Both of his heads.
“This is a casino,” Daisy said. “They’re in every room.”
“Right.” No cold shower then. Ryan stood up and walked over to the mini-bar. “We need beer. You can’t play real poker without beer.”
“Pretty sure that’s not true.”
“Am I the expert?” He grabbed a couple of beers, then went back for the tiny bottles of scotch. “Let me know the charge for the mini-bar and I’ll cover it. I’ve got a per-diem.”
“And I’ve got Bullet comping my room.”
“Right.” Ryan turned to face Daisy.
She’d found the cards.
She’d also moved to the bed. It made sense. They could sit across from each other and have a mile-long playing space on the king-size mattress.
It didn’t mean anything. Sure, they’d kissed—three times—but Daisy had made it clear she wasn’t interested.
But now she was staring up at him with those deep blue eyes. Her legs were crossed. Her cheeks were flushed. She licked her lips and…damn.
Ryan took a deep breath, fighting back his half-formed erection, and dumped the booze on the bed. “I feel like I’m contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”
Full lips pushed out into a pout. “I’m twenty-four.”
“You’re—” Perfect. He swallowed back the thought and tried to drag his gaze away from her lips. Today’s shirt was blue. It said “Fiat Lux.” Where the hell was she getting these things? He shook his head. “Fine. You’re fine.”
He sat down across from her and popped the cap open on a bottle of beer. “Deal.”
“Hold ’em?”
“Five-card draw.” It was the simplest form of poker he could think of, the way the game was played in dorm rooms and around kitchen tables. “You’re not going to learn advanced strategy tonight.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“I’m going to teach you how to bluff, because, honestly, sweetheart, you’re one of the worst liars I’ve ever seen.”
Daisy’s expression curled. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were wide. She looked hurt.
Too damn bad. Ryan wasn’t about to pussy foot around her feelings. “You sigh. You shake. You lick your damn lips. It’s enough to drive a man to distraction, sure, but it’s also a tell. You might as well take out a billboard on the strip.”
Daisy’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips and Ryan’s erection went from half formed to persistent. Pure temptation. “I. Do. Not. Lick. My. Lips.”
“You just did.”
She snorted angrily, but at least she didn’t try to contradict him. He didn’t know if his jeans would hold.
“Five-card draw.” She opened the box of cards and slid the deck out. Her fingers shuffled capably if not elegantly and she dealt. “Pick ’em up.”
“Nope.” Ryan took a long pull on his beer. “First we need to ante up.”
“There are chips in the side table.”
“Not chips.” He really was going to hell, but by God, he’d have a fun time going there. “I watched you today. You play a nice, calm, tight game of poker—maybe the tightest game I’ve ever seen. You never give anyone an inch. You always play the odds. You never flinch. It’s so damn logical…but that’s not what poker’s about.”
“Fifty-two cards is a closed system.” Daisy snorted. “Sounds pretty logical to me.”
“Nope. Poker is all about your opponent. It’s about knowing what the other guy’s thinking and being able to use it against him.” Ryan chuckled. “It’s a lot like police work that way. It’s about being excited. It’s about being invested. Now…” His grip tightened on the long neck bottle of beer. “Take off your shirt.”
Her head jerked upright. Blood stained her cheeks a nice merlot. “Excuse me?”
“I told you, poker’s about being invested. It’s about knowing exactly what you have to lose.” He nodded toward the bed. “Ante up.”
Part of him wanted Daisy to say no.
To tell him to go to hell.
He’d go get the chips. They’d play a few regular hands of poker. It would be over soon and they’d call it a night.
But then Little Miss I’m-Not-Interested took off her T-shirt and let the warm cotton drift down onto the bed.
Her bra was purple and pink striped with a little heart-shaped charm hanging in the middle. Her skin was silky. Her breasts were full and firm—the perfect size to fit a man’s hand—and her waist was toned. When she took a deep breath, everything jiggled nicely.
“Your turn,” she said.
Ryan scrambled out of his shirt as fast as humanly possible. He tossed the Henley onto the bed beside her T-shirt.
“The scar on your shoulder,” Daisy said. “Where’d you get that?”
“I was attacked by a rhino,” Ryan lied. He’d already told Daisy too much about the investigation. He wasn’t going to tell her about the shooting, too. “Those horns are sharp.”
Then he finally picked up his cards. Nothing much.
He glanced over at Daisy.
She was holding her cards and smiling. Her free hand curved protectively across her bare belly. Her breath came a little faster, as if she could smell blood in the water. “I’ve got nothing.”
Worst. Liar. Ever.
“Deep breath,” Ryan counseled. “Concentrate on your opponent, not the cards.”
“Fuck you.” Daisy glared. “You’ve got nothing.”
“Good guess. You’ve got a pair at least.” Her brow slammed together in surprise, but her lips twitched. Better than a pair. “Make that three of a kind.”
Her expression fell. “How’d you know?”
“Because I know you. I know how you look when you’re excited. I want to know how you look when you come.” She was staring at him, all tense disbelief. Obviously no one had ever talked to her that way before. Too damn bad. Before the night was over, he was going to do a lot more than talk.
“You’ve got a dirty mind.”
“You love it.”
“Maybe.” She nodded toward the cards. “Go.”
They played out the rest of the hand. Daisy won. She looked damned relieved when she took both pieces of clothing and pulled her shirt back on over her messy black curls.
Then Ryan took off his pants.
The worn denim stuck to his thighs and he had to shimmy to get them off without standing up. It wasn’t the most graceful move he’d ever made, but from the expression on Daisy’s face, it was more than adequate. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth hung open.
“Wha—what are you doing?” she stammered.
“I’ve got to be able to make my bet.” Ryan placed his pants between them. If he’d known they were going to be playing strip poker, he might have dressed differently. He definitely would have layered. As it was, he had three pieces of clothing to throw into the pot: shirt, pants, and skivvies.
And he’d already lost his shirt.
Daisy had taken off her shoes and socks when she got back from the tournament, but she’d still started off with a competitive advantage: shirt, pants, panties, and bra. She’d had four pieces of clothing to his three. Now she had five and he had two.
Ryan wasn’t worried. The way Daisy was looking at his chest—and swallowing hard as she did it—he knew he had the advantage. Even if she’d learned how to lie in the last two minutes, his near nakedness would still throw her.
That really shouldn’t make Ryan happy.
“You’re really not i
nterested?” He took the cards and shuffled.
“I’m not—” Daisy started. “I—I don’t do relationships.”
Ryan blinked in surprise. “You’re saying you’ve never—” He swallowed hard against the thought. A virgin in the wild. A twenty-four-year-old innocent. It was like seeing a strange and mythical creature. Next, he’d spot a unicorn. “Okay, I respect that.”
“What?” Daisy shook her head. “No, no. I’m not some untouched flower. For fuck’s sake! I went to college.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “Right. So you just don’t do…relationships?”
“True love, breakfast, all that nonsense.” Daisy waved a hand as the cards were dealt. “I don’t fall in love. I don’t do relationships.”
It was kind of sad. Daisy looked like a Disney princess. She deserved true love and flowers. She deserved a dashing prince who would join her in a stunning duet before the finale. Unfortunately, she was sitting in a hotel room with Ryan.
One hundred percent frog.
No amount of kissing would help.
“I’m not asking for forever, honey.” Hell, next week, he’d probably be assigned to a job somewhere in Alaska or the Arctic Circle. That would make his bosses happy.
Or maybe Morelli would figure out that Ryan was still on his tail and he’d just be dead. The mob boss may be in jail, but he still had connections in the real world.
His hand went up to cover the scar on his shoulder. Fingers pressed against the small star-shaped splintering of skin where the bullet had entered his body.
Sometimes he wished it really had been a rhinoceros.
“All I’m asking for is hot, sexy fun,” he continued.
It probably wasn’t the smart thing to do, but, damn, it would feel good.
He hadn’t had sex since the shooting. It had been eleven months, almost a year. People had started to notice.
He’d been busy.
Between physical therapy, helping out Jack, and getting back on the job, his last year had been jam-packed. The truth was, he hadn’t been interested in sex for a long time.
Not until Daisy.
He looked at his cards. The tiny numbers swam in front of his face. Five little clubs stared up at him. It was a natural flush. Perfect. He kept his expression calm.
“No pressure,” he added. “Just two people playing a game.”
They played a few more hands. Eventually Daisy lost her pants, revealing toned legs that would feel just right wrapped around his waist. Her panties were black boy-shorts that hugged her lush hips. Her face was clouded.
It was Daisy’s turn to deal. Her hands fumbled with the cards.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Ryan said.
“It’s okay.” Her teeth worried at her bottom lip. “Let’s keep going.”
She’d need to ante up in a minute, taking off her bra to reveal the juicy breasts Ryan had been fantasizing about for days.
Now was not the time to have a sudden attack of chivalry.
Ryan’s stomach churned. This didn’t feel right. “You really don’t have to,” he said.
“And if I want to?” she said. “If I want some—how did you put it—hot, sexy fun?”
His heart was pounding against his chest. He’d collected a nice pile of clothes on his side of the bed, but he hadn’t bothered to put on any of it. Sitting there in a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else, his arousal was obvious. He wasn’t about to turn her down but damn if he didn’t want to give her more.
He was still a frog, but he could dream about being a prince.
“Then why don’t we make things a little more interesting?” Ryan asked. “If you win this hand, you get your shirt back. If I win, I get a kiss.”
Something glimmered in her deep blue eyes. “Yeah, that could work.”
The woman was going to be the death of him.
Ryan had finished his first beer. He started another one while she dealt. When Daisy gave a nod toward the drink, he opened one for her, too. She took a long pull, slicking the bottleneck with her saliva.
Hair stood up on the back of Ryan’s neck. His skin suddenly felt like it was two sizes too small. The entire world contracted to the warm circle of Daisy’s mouth.
This time, when he looked down at his cards, he didn’t bother hiding his reaction.
Mistake. Apparently the tips he’d been offering had stuck because a few minutes later, he was handing over Daisy’s shirt. They kept playing. Daisy really was good at poker. Maybe there was something to the statistical approach.
Ryan dealt another hand, determined to earn his kiss. Clothes passed back and forth between the two of them and no one bothered to put anything back on.
Ryan was the first one to up his bets, kicking things up a notch when he threw in a second article of clothing after the draw. Daisy caught on quick enough, matching his wager.
They played like that for a little while until Ryan was down to almost nothing—just the underwear he was sitting in.
“You’re going to lose,” Daisy chortled happily. “Take off the panties.”
“Men don’t wear panties. They wear briefs.” Ryan grinned. “You’ve got to let me bet something else.”
“Fine.” Daisy finished off her beer. She dropped the bottle to join Ryan’s empties on the floor beside the bed. Then she leaned forward. “I want a kiss.”
Clearly, he’d created a monster.
“Deal,” Ryan said.
He picked his cards up off the bed. He looked at his hand. It was okay, but not great. There was a pair of fours. Nothing else. He frowned and looked up at Daisy.
Her face was smooth. She was completely unreadable.
The woman really was a good student.
Ryan had a second to thank God Daisy had decided to focus on math instead of something more dangerous. If she’d brought that much focus and brain power to something like political science, world domination would have been just a few steps away.
“I want to up my bet.” Daisy pushed two pieces of clothing across the bed: Ryan’s shirt and pants. With those, he could get up and go before either of them did something they’d regret.
“And if I lose?” he asked.
Her eyebrow quirked upward. For a moment, it looked like she was going to suggest something. Then her blank expression faltered. She may have learned how to bluff at poker, but the woman still couldn’t lie to save her life.
Good.
“Three kisses,” she finally said.
Three kisses was definitely something Ryan could handle. He took the draw, trading in three cards for a chance at victory. No such luck. He had to hope Daisy’s hand was as bad as his.
She didn’t even take the freaking draw. “Drop ’em.”
“I’ve got a pair.” He put the cards down. “You?”
“Straight.” Daisy flipped over her cards. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. The little paper rectangles covered the comforter. “Ready to pay up?”
The urge to throw his body across the bed was strong. He could take her hard, pushing her back against the fluffy hotel pillows in a shower of clothes and cards.
No sense making a mess. He picked up the cards and placed them carefully on the bedside table. Then he dropped the collection of mini-bar goodies beside the empties on the ground. The clothes got tossed over onto the couch. When the bed was finally clear, it seemed bigger. He slid off, standing carefully on the floor.
If he was going to do this, he wanted it to be right. He wanted it to be special.
Fuck, he wanted to take her right there on the bed, making her moan as he pulled her panties to the side and slid into her depths without so much as a how’s-your-daddy.
He needed to cling to whatever life raft of self-control he had left.
That meant getting as far away from the bed as possible.
Ryan dragged Daisy up onto her feet, pulling her toward the room’s big picture window and its view of the strip. His hand slid up to her neck, cupping the back of her head a
nd drawing her in close. The scent of oranges, mixed with want and need, was overpowering.
Daisy’s brow furrowed. Her breath came faster. She was wound so tight, her entire body felt like it was vibrating.
Fuck. Ryan wanted to reassure her. He reached up with a free hand to tuck a lock of pitch-black hair safely behind her ear. “Three kisses?”
“Better make them count.”
Angry bunny. He bit back a laugh, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate it. “I thought counting was your thing.”
Then he bent down and pressed his mouth to hers.
Fireworks sounded in the distance. One of the nightly shows up and down the strip or something closer? More intimate ? His mouth never left hers. His lips molded to hers, his tongue darting forward.
Daisy kissed like she was fighting. Like she was playing poker. All her energy—her vast intellect—focused on his mouth. It was nice, better than nice, but Ryan wanted to shake things up a little.
His free hand lifted to press against her bare back, his fingers rubbing against bare skin as he drew her in tight. Their bodies fit together perfectly. His erection settled against the crease of her hipbone and blood rushed downward.
Her entire body went rigid.
“Fuck.” His mouth separated from hers.
“That’s one,” Daisy said.
It took him a minute to realize that she was counting kisses, just like he’d told her.
“One,” he agreed. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Maybe.” She frowned. “What’s the favor?”
That was the Daisy he knew. Always in control. Never give an inch. Tit for tat. Only, she wasn’t always like that. Sometimes she was breathless and warm in his arms, her defenses falling with a single word.
Forget asking for favors. He was giving orders.
Ryan’s grip tightened on Daisy’s hip.
“Melt a little,” he growled.
Her mouth opened to object but it was too late. He was already kissing her, swallowing her objections with his tongue, rocking his body against hers. Once, twice, too many times to count, until the tension in her joints evaporated and the only sounds in the room were the little moans coming from Daisy’s throat.