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I’ll fuck you the same way I play hockey—all in, with everything I’ve got.
Maverick and I both win the hand, and I feel a flare of frustration. This bet won’t be settled until one of us is out of chips, and if it takes all night and I lose, I don’t want us to both be exhausted before we even make it to bed.
I want him. God, do I want him. If he’s right, and our chemistry is off the charts, it’ll be a night I’ll remember forever. And once we both get this out of our systems, we can turn our focus back to where it needs to be.
For him, that’s hockey. His team is making headlines for all the wrong reasons right now. They just got out of a bad losing streak and Maverick is feuding with a teammate.
And for me, it’s poker. I’m not winning as much money as I was before Maverick skated into town. And since I didn’t come to Las Vegas for fun, but to make the money I need to bring down my rival, that can’t continue.
If Maverick wins tonight, he’ll screw me all the way into next week and the tension between us will finally be gone. But if I win, this hot, heavy feeling I can’t escape will only get worse.
You’re my fucking fantasy, Gia.
“Ice?” I croak at the waitress who stops by our table for drink orders. “Can I get a cup of ice and a long island?”
The corners of Maverick’s lips turn up in a smile. He knows I don’t drink alcohol when I’m playing. But that’s poker. Blackjack is a cakewalk, and I need a drink to calm my nerves.
“Bullshit,” the guy next to me mutters when he loses a hand he staked a lot of money on.
I push him out of my mind—and everything else—as I try to convince myself that sloppy play is the answer to my problems. If I give in and quickly run down the $630 in chips I have left, this thing with Maverick will be over within eight hours. Or maybe, if I’m really lucky…more like twelve.
Point is, tomorrow night, I’ll be back at the poker table with a newfound focus. I can get back to what I do best—winning.
Losing doesn’t come naturally for me. In fact, it’s painful. My dad raised me to be smart with my bets so I’m not rapidly swinging my pot up and down.
As the dealer works, I fall into my default mode of covertly counting cards. It’s what I do when I play blackjack, which isn’t often. If I can stop looking at Maverick and thinking about what his face would feel like between my thighs, I can make my money back.
Is that what I want, though? My instinctive drive to win is at war with my desire to find out what Maverick looks like underneath the gray Las Vegas Saints T-shirt and black shorts he’s wearing.
I take a deep breath, resetting mentally. When my eyes meet his across the table, though, and he breaks into a full-on, sexy-as-sin grin, I’m once again hot all over.
The waitress approaches with our drinks and as soon as she hands me mine, I pass her a red chip and tip the drink back, taking several huge swallows. It burns, which is fitting since I feel like I’m on the verge of bursting into flames myself.
The line between winning and losing has never been so blurred. I want to win, but I also want Maverick. There’s no sage advice for a situation like this.
I have to know. My usual patience is nowhere to be found as I stack $300 worth of chips in place for a bet. I’ll either win big or lose big. Either way, I can’t stare across this table at Maverick any longer. He makes me want to defy my years of training. He makes me want to be reckless.
His gaze blazes like the bright blue center of a flame, its flicker making me shiver as surely as his touch would.
Maverick is wondering if I’m playing risky in hopes of winning or losing. And honestly?
So am I.
Chapter One
Maverick
Four months earlier
* * *
A brunette in a dress made of purple feathers bends down to fasten the strap of her heel, her elaborate headpiece hitting the sidewalk and tumbling off her head. With a glare, she yanks off the shoes, reducing her height by about five inches, snatches up the headpiece and continues walking, leaving a couple feathers in her wake.
Even at five in the morning, the Vegas Strip still has some life left in it. The sun isn’t up yet, and glowing lights still beckon people to drink and shop. I’m not sure this place will ever feel like home, but since I have a two-year contract with my new team here, I’ll do my best to make it work.
