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I scoff. “Young.”
His smile turns a little sad. “Age isn’t about how long you’ve lived.”
“That’s exactly what it’s about.”
“It’s about experience.” He leans close, so he can whisper. His lips brush the outer shell of my ear as he speaks, raising sparks of interest throughout my body. “And I think I have lots more experience than you. Don’t worry, though. I’ll break you in slowly.”
“Break me in,” I say, my voice too high. “Like I’m a horse.”
“Don’t be offended. My horses are thoroughbreds.”
I know from society talk that Hughes racehorses are legendary. But I didn’t know how much of that legacy trickled down to Finn. Enough, apparently. “I’m not a thoroughbred.”
“Ma’am,” the dealer says, snagging my attention.
The couple made their decision. They’re in.
It’s my turn. Two pair probably isn’t enough to win this. But I’m only one diamond away from a flush. On the off chance I get it, that could be enough to win.
Or it might not be.
I don’t like the uncertainty. It makes me nervous. Anxious.
Or maybe that’s the way Finn watches me. As if he wants to prove a point. That I’m staid, dependable Eva Morelli. That I wouldn’t know how to have fun if it kidnapped me and took me to an underground casino.
I push the piles of chips into the center.
A gasp sounds from the people around the table.
“Fuck,” Finn murmurs, his hand tightening on my hip. “That was so hot.”
The couple groans in unison and throws their cards down, quitting outside of their turn. The dealer brings the bet around again. Against my high raise, only one man remains. An elderly gentleman who looks severe with a poker face.
He looks, in Finn’s words, experienced. I don’t think he’d stay in with a poor hand.
Every muscle in my body clenches as I watch the dealer’s hand.
He flips a card.
I blink, sure that I’m imagining it. An eight of diamonds sits on the green fabric. Holy shit. I got the flush that I was hoping for, but even more than that, I got a full house.
My fist shoots in the air. “Yes.”
Immediately my cheeks heat at the unladylike action.
Finn releases a low chuckle.
We’re hardly being subtle, but it doesn’t matter. There are already several thousand dollars in the pot. The older gentleman reveals a straight with a rueful smile.
“Congratulations,” he tells me in a gruff voice.
Excitement overtakes my good sense and my dignity. I throw my arms around Finn’s neck, laughing. His eyes sparkle blue and green hues. “I told you good things would come to those who wait,” he says, his voice low and private. They aren’t suggestive words, not really. But I feel the erotic suggestion throughout my body, at the tips of my breasts and between my legs. As if he’s rewarding me after a long, tantric session.
“I’m thirty-three,” I tell him, waiting for his shock, his stiffness.
Dreading the way he’ll have to force a smile.
He searches my eyes. “Do you think that matters to me?”
