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We're close, and he's staring into my eyes with this expression I can't place.
"You trying to tease me?" His nails dig into my skin.
The burst of pain wakes up all my senses. I run my hands through his hair.
For once, I can touch him. It feels damn good to touch him.
"Are you mad I answered the door in lingerie?" I press my body against his. "Lingerie you sent me?"
"No." His teeth scrape against my neck.
"You seem mad."
He shifts his hips, pinning me against the wall. "Put your hands on my shoulders."
I do.
Nick pulls my bra cup down so my nipple pops out. He kisses his way down my neck and chest, until his mouth is around my nipple.
He bites me.
Fuck.
My sex clenches. It hurts in such a good way.
He does it again, a little harder.
"Nick." I squeeze my thighs around his hips. "I don't know what you're doing, but please keep doing it."
He bites me again and again, harder and harder. Every time, my flesh stings with pain.
I tug at his suit jacket. Squeeze my legs around his body.
His palm presses against my sex, over my panties. It winds me up. God, I want him touching me.
With his next bite, I yelp. He doesn't stop. Only goes harder. I close my eyes to focus on the hurt, the way my body screams out for him. It's intense, but I can manage it.
Harder.
Harder.
"Ow." It's too much. I tug at his jacket. "Yellow."
He softens then moves to my other nipple and teases it mercilessly. His palm rubs against my panties, pressing the silk against my skin.
I give up on figuring out his intentions and surrender to the sting of pain, the pulse of anticipation in my core.
I want him so badly I can barely breathe.
He bites me until I cry out. His eyes meet mine. They're full of desire but he's still so calm and collected.
No relenting, he bites me again.
Fuck. It's too much. "Red."
Nick shifts, unpinning me and setting me on the ground. He's hard. He's hard but he's effortlessly collected.
He brushes his fingertips against my cheek, looking into my eyes like he's trying to make sure I'm okay.
"What was that supposed to be?" I ask.
"You teased me. I teased you back."
Okay. That makes sense. More or less. Maybe a little less. I try to find a clue in his expression. It's almost like he's frustrated.
My gaze goes to the bulge in his slacks. That looks like a frustrating problem.
Hell, it's torture just looking at him without having him in my hands or my mouth or my cunt.
"You wanted to fuck me," I say.
He's unblinking.
"You almost did." I can't help but smile. "It pissed you off that you wanted to go against your edict. That you wanted me that badly."
"No one likes a sore winner."
My smile is smug as hell. "We have twenty-five minutes. No reason why we can't use them."
"After." He moves to my desk. "How well do you know Texas Hold 'Em?"
"Okay, I guess. I made that bot a year ago. Played a few times since. Why? If I knew, would you fuck me?"
"Yes."
Damn. What a time to be ignorant of a poker variant. I study Nick's expression. It's not steel, but it's determined. He's going to get his way. I might as well get into my clothes.
I slide into my cocktail dress and present my back to him. "Zip me."
He does. His fingers linger on my exposed skin. It sends a pang of lust straight to my core. It's torture knowing he won't touch me properly until later.
Is it torture for him too?
He pulls a deck of cards from his jacket pocket and motions to my desk.
I sit. "It wasn't hard to teach the bot the statistics. The hard part was teaching it when to bluff."
"Your program was the most ambitious poker AI I've even seen."
"Really?"
He nods.
I beam. There's affection in his expression. It does something to me, makes me warm everywhere. "Why are we talking about poker?"
"You're playing in a tournament tonight."
"That's not possible, because that would mean you entered me in a tournament without my permission." I fold my arms. "I can't play for money. And certainly not—Nick, did you pay an entry fee for me?"
"It's not a high-stakes game."
"I'm pretty sure we have different ideas of high-stakes."
"The pot is about a hundred thousand dollars. Most serious games are two or three times that."
My ability to breathe falters. A hundred thousand dollars. Chump change to Nick. A fortune to me. To any reasonable person.
He brushes my hair behind my ear. "The entry fee was about four thousand dollars. There are thirty players. The top seven places come out ahead. Anything after eighth and you go home with nothing."
I take his cards and press them against his chest. "You cannot pay for my entry fee. Uh-uh. No fucking way."
"Consider it an investment. We split your winnings, fifty-fifty."
What a load. "You'll find some loophole to force me to keep all the money."
He shuffles the deck and places it on my desk. "I won't. I promise. We each keep half." He extends his hand to shake.
I don't take it. "Gambling is illegal."
"Don't tell me you're afraid of risk."
"It's your money."
"It's paid."
He deals the cards. Three face up. Two to each of us. "You know the rules?"
"Yes." I stare into his deep brown eyes. "You're going to do some BS thing like spend all your winnings on lingerie for me."
"Lingerie is a gift for me as much as it is for you."
I motion to the door. "Didn't seem like it."
"You didn't enjoy that?"
My cheeks flush. "Then why were you—"
"You like being teased. You liked me teasing you. What's to explain?"
"But you didn't... you didn't seem like you liked it."
"I do. I like you desperate and wanting."
That explains a lot.
He runs his fingertips over the neckline of my dress.
"Nick..."
He presses his lips to my neck. "I want to throw you on that bed, rip off those panties, and fuck you until you're screaming my name."
God, he's good at teasing. He's on a whole other level.
"You're evil," I groan.
He releases me and kneels next to the desk. His eyes meet mine. "Once upon a time, a wise woman told me that it's good to want things. It makes you know you're alive."
"Wise, huh? You sure she wasn't trying to manipulate you?"
"She was flirting. In her way." He smiles and runs his fingertips over my cheek.
The touch is so sweet, so intimate. It sends a shiver down my spine. Makes me want him on a whole other level.
His voice gets harder. "You wear that lingerie for me."
It's not a question. I nod anyway.
"That gets me off. Knowing you're mine. Knowing you want my attention."
How can this relationship be casual if I'm his? I swallow the question. I have to wo
rry about losing four grand. I can't deal with any distractions.
He drags his fingertips over the back of my neck as he takes me through a dozen sample games. I remember the rules, the statistics, the strategies. Sure, I can bluff well, and I know enough about reading other people to figure out when to call and when to fold, but there's no way I can compete with anyone who takes poker seriously.
Nick might as well kiss that entry fee goodbye.
We take the subway to a fancy building across from the Hudson. A password to the doorman grants us access to the penthouse floor.
The den of sin is a gorgeous apartment with an amazing view. The main room has a wet bar, lounge chairs, and a smattering of gambling offerings. Not just poker tonight—there's roulette, craps, blackjack.
Nick nods to a back room. It's bright yellow from the fluorescent lights, somehow ominous and sterile and the same time. Most of the room is hidden from view but I can see a poker table and a circle of chairs.
"This is the first tournament. The stakes get higher as the night goes on." He takes my coat and hangs it on a rack. His hands return to my shoulders, his touch gentle. "You ready?"
I nod. "You're such a bad boy, breaking the law like this. Maybe I should punish you."
He smiles. "You don't want to."
I admit nothing.
He knows he's right though. I can see it in his cocky smile. I like it.
I like the way he smiles, the way his eyes light up and his cheeks get wide.
There's this lightness in my body. All from Nick's smile.
He checks his watch and motions to the back room. I follow him.
The room is just big enough for three tables. There are about thirty people here. Mostly men. Most of them do double takes when they see me.
Their eyes go to my chest, their tongues slide over their lips. The cleavage is a shrewd distraction. Never thought Nick would encourage such a cheap tactic.
Maybe I'm wrong about him being honorable.
The tournament manager directs our attention to a white board with seating arrangements. It's time to get started.
Nick squeezes me so tightly I can barely breathe. God, he feels good like this too. I hug him back, then shift all my focus to the game.
Maybe four thousand dollars is nothing to him, but it's a lot to me. I have to try my best to double his money. I don't want to owe him anything else.
