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“You aren’t going to molest me, are you?”
Her soft smile as she looked up at him caused his gut to clench. Her sweet innocence was intoxicating. He could well understand why her family wanted to wrap her in cotton and set her on a shelf. On the other hand, he wanted nothing more than to show her all the dirty sex acts he’d learned over the years. Things that would leave them both gasping for air. The elevator dinged and opened. Another couple stood inside waiting for them to get on.
“Come on,” he urged as he pulled her along beside him. The doors slid shut, sealing them in with the other two. The walls of the elevator were mirrored, and he was able to see the other couple behind them, kissing. Christ, that was all he needed, a visual aid.
Grace rose on her toes and whispered, “You’re blushing.”
Jackson’s patience snapped. He cupped her chin and ground out, “Keep pushing me and you’ll get more than a drink when we reach my room.”
She tried to step away from him, but he had his hand wrapped around her forearm, preventing her escape. “I know better than that, Jackson. The other night is proof I have nothing to fear from you.”
She just wouldn’t let it go that he’d left her. Couldn’t she see he’d done it for her own good? He could have stayed and made love to her the entire night. Hell, the entire weekend. He’d tried to give her time to accept him, to accept a relationship with him. All he’d done was make it worse. One step forward, ten steps back.
Jackson’s gaze took in the tight black dress that accentuated her small breasts and slender hips. He imagined slipping her out of it. Inch by delicious inch. Would she be wearing panties this time? “We’ll see,” he murmured.
As the elevator stopped on their floor, he looked in the mirrored wall again. The couple had practically climbed each other. The woman’s head was thrown back in rapture, and the man was in the process of nibbling his way down to the brunette’s cleavage. Jackson peeked over at Grace, gauging her reaction to the pair of exhibitionists. Her eyes were round as quarters, but she wasn’t looking away. He noticed her nipples were hard little pebbles beneath the black silk. She liked watching. Interesting.
He tugged on her arm to indicate the elevator had stopped. She cleared her throat and walked through the open doors, completely ignoring him. He ended up getting dragged along in her wake. Jackson couldn’t tell if she’d decided to go to his room for a drink or not. He’d never seen her act so damned mysterious. When she turned right down the hall, which would take her to his room instead of left toward her own, he let out a breath, thankful he wasn’t going to have to toss her over his shoulder and haul her cute ass to his suite by force. He was just desperate enough to do it.
He moved alongside her and let her pull her arm away. As they approached his suite, she stopped and adjusted her purse higher on her shoulder. “Drinks. Nothing more.”
He moved to close the gap between them and let his fingers trail down her check. “Unless you want more.”
“I don’t.”
Her voice wasn’t quite as steady as it had been in the restaurant. Jackson had to hold back a triumphant grin. “Little liar.”
She was about to say something more, something caustic, no doubt, but he took his keycard out of his pocket and slid it through the slot. He pushed the door open before stepping aside. “After you, Gracie.”
Her nose shot in the air as she walked past him. He took in the sway of her hips and her tight, slightly rounded ass. God in heaven, the woman was a gift. Her body made his every instinct kick in. He wanted to slam the door shut and fuck her into submission. Force her to accept him as her lover—her only lover. Soon, he promised his overeager cock. Even in his lusty fog, he noticed there weren’t any panty lines, but that wasn’t enough proof. The only way he’d know for sure if she had anything on under the sexy dress was to get her out of it.
Jackson stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him, then flipped the security lock into place. As he hit the switch, illuminating the room, and moved toward her, Grace licked her lips, her posture stiff as a board. He could see the war going on inside her pretty head so clearly. She wanted him, but she wasn’t happy about it. By the time they went back to Ohio, she would belong to him. The only other option was just too damned depressing to consider.
He went to the desk at the far side of the room and picked up the phone. “Champagne or wine?”
“Wine.”
Jackson ordered a bottle of Merlot, then looked at Grace as an idea struck. “We’re also going to need a deck of cards.” He watched her frown at him from across the room. When he hung up, he said, “You’ve never played poker with me. Since we’re in Vegas and all, I thought it seemed appropriate.”
“Be warned. I’ve been playing poker since I was big enough to walk. My dad taught me. I’m not bragging when I say I’m good. In fact, poker helped pay for books and gas when I was in college.”
“I know. I’ve seen you play with Blade and Merrick. You’re very good. But so am I. What do you say to a few hands of five card stud?”
Grace went to the couch and sat. “Sure, why not? But you’d better not be a sore loser. I hate sore losers.”
“Ditto, Gracie,” he said. A knock on the door indicated room service. After taking the wine and cards, he tipped the guy and went to the chair next to the couch. He poured a glass of wine and held it out to Grace. When she took it, he poured another glass for himself. They were silent as they each took a sip. He set his on the coffee table and opened the box of cards. As he shuffled, he explained the rules. “Five card stud, nothing wild.”
“Easy enough. Are we playing for money?”
“No, not money. Information.”
“Huh?”
“If I win, you have to tell me three things about yourself. Good things, not like ‘I like the color red.’. If you win, I have to tell you three things about myself. What do you say?”
She grinned. “You’re going to be doing a lot of talking.”
He didn’t speak as he dealt. He waited for her to look at her hand. When she discarded two, he slid two new cards across the coffee table. She picked them up, but Jackson couldn’t tell if she was happy or not. She was good at not giving herself away. He looked at his own cards and discarded one, then waited for her to show her hand. She had two pair, kings and deuces. All he’d ended up with was a pair of nines. He placed his own hand face up on the table and watched her expression change from blank to pure wickedness.
