He made a swift calculation as to what he thought would be the most difficult shot.
He leaned into her, placing his hand by the corner pocket nearest him on the left. “How about you sink the eight ball into this pocket?”
There was no way she could make the shot.
She’d have to be crazy to sayyes.
“As you wish,” she said.
His brow wrinkled. “What’s that?”
“As you wish.”
Maybe she was crazy. Either that or she wanted to give him what really interested him because it was what interested her. It had to be the latter. Although he wasn’t as certain as he usually was when it came to women.
He fisted his hands, resisting the urge to hoist her over his shoulder and take her back to his hotel room. Even that felt like too much foreplay.
He drew a deep breath.
Just a little longer.
After she missed the shot, she’d come back to his hotel room and they’d have mind-blowing sex. There was something raw, primitive, practically feral about the woman. She might even be into a bit of kink. Some women weren’t. Whether she was or wasn’t didn’t matter. What did matter was what happened after sex. But he was confident that wouldn’t be a problem with her.
It was no good to be involved once the season began. Besides all the travel, he needed his mind focused on one thing—and one thing only.
Racing.
He could not believe he was done with it.
Would not believe it.
He needed to race. Had to. That was the end of it. Period.
She didn’t wait for him to move away. She turned around, causing him to lose his footing and stumble backward.
She bent over.
“Eight ball in the corner pocket,” she said, glancing back at Rocco.
It took him a moment to realize she was looking at him because his attention was on her ass.
She wants my hands on that ass.
I want my hands on that ass.
He waited for her to turn around before he wiped his palms on his pant legs.
“This corner pocket,” she added, indicating the one just to the left of her before pulling back the stick and hitting the cue ball.
She skimmed the eight ball with it. He’d thought at least she’d make a reasonable attempt and bank it.
Is she looking to lose?
Sure enough the eight ball was moving the right direction. Problem was, it didn’t have enough momentum. It was going to come up short.
And then he blinked, realizing she’d done something he hadn’t thought of; bank the cue ball, which came speeding to this end of the table just behind the eight ball and, after impact, sank the eight ball in the designated corner pocket.
She tossed the stick on the table and picked up the money.
