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I whistled. “I have a feeling I’m about to be bamboozled again.”
She laughed, pulling her dart from the board. “You had fair warning this time.”
“Nothing about you is fair warning, Cakes.”
She smiled, and this one was sort of sweet and sort of secretive and did nothing to cool my blood.
We moved through the numbers, closing them out one by one, and though she was clearly better than me, I held my own so that when it was time to hit the bullseye, it was anyone’s game.
The sky had morphed from dark to pale gray, a slip of lavender peeking from the bottom of the window pane. I leaned on the edge of the pool table, taking the opportunity to let my gaze roam slowly over Rory as she pulled the last round of darts from the board. Then she took her position and looked over at me, meeting my eyes and giving me a wink as she tossed the dart, hitting the target with perfect precision.
“Holy shit!” I laughed. “How in the hell did you do that?”
She laughed too, giving a deep curtsy before rising and taking the few steps to me. “I’ll tell you the secret, but only because I know it’s safe since you’ll take it with you when you go.”
My heart sped, then slowed, that panic scratching the underside of my skin. I swallowed. “Tell me.”
She inclined her head behind me and I looked over my shoulder at a polished sign advertising some pale ale. “You can see the reflection of where you’re holding the dart in that sign. If you line it up with the arrow in the artwork, and toss it just right, it hits the bullseye every time.”
I grinned. “A trick.”
She shrugged, a smile playing on her lips. “A trick that still takes skill. And lots of practice.”
She glanced to her left, out the window to where the first golden rays of the sun were making the slip of visible water sparkle. I swallowed, that internal countdown growing louder, my blood whooshing to its beat. I couldn’t have moved even if I’d wanted to. “What other tricks do you know?” I asked, my voice thick with the lust that had been building steadily since the moment I’d laid eyes on her. She was so close. I could feel her body heat, smell her earthy yet delicate scent, feel the magnetism we created simply by being near one another.
Her smile faded, her gaze sliding to my mouth. I hardened fully, pulling in a breath, feeling woozy from the mixture of pleasure and pain. I’d decided that a one-time hookup wasn’t what I wanted and served no purpose other than momentary bliss. It didn’t further my plan. It was a diversion from my plan. But it seemed that I’d been overruled by some part of my brain that had never overruled my more rational gray matter, and I didn’t know how to shut it down.
“Not as many as I pretend to know,” she murmured, color infusing her skin, her nipples hardening under the stretched material of her shirt. She blinked, appearing briefly baffled as if those words had slipped out without her permission. I struggled to remember what she’d been responding to. Tricks.
What other tricks do you know.
Not as many as I pretend to, she’d confessed.
It was late. Neither of us had had a moment of sleep, and we were both clearly aroused, blood rushing everywhere except our brains, latent lizard-controlled synapses taking advantage and clouding judgment. “What about you, Mr. Perfect? You must know quite a few tricks.”
Mr. Perfect. Ivy League. I’d heard variations of both of those all my life, mainly delivered as compliments. But, truthfully? Each time a comment like that was uttered, it felt like a weight bearing down. It felt like a reminder—mostly from my family—not to stray from the lane I’d been set to walk. And sometimes, all I wanted to do was step outside those rigid lines, even if I rarely ever did. “I’m not as perfect as I seem,” I said, blurting out my own confession.
Her eyes softened, and she leaned in even further, our breath mingling. “No?” she whispered.
“No. And also…I have another confession. I left my credit card here on purpose, Cakes.”
She let out a small, surprised laugh that turned into a sigh when I wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her into my body and supporting us both with the other hand still behind me on the pool table.
She brought a hand to my cheek. “I have a confession, too, Ivy League. I knew you left it.”
I chuckled with surprise. “Ah, so you were going to treat your customers to rounds on me forever.”
She grinned but shook her head. “No. I was just hoping you’d come back for it.”
Oh, Jesus. My heart expanded with something I couldn’t name. All I knew was that I wanted her and I was done fighting it whether the reasons to do so were good ones or not. I groaned and brought my lips to hers, our mouths meeting as she pressed her soft breasts against my chest. I swept my tongue into her sweet mouth and she met it with her own, sliding and playing slowly.
“Goddamn, you taste good,” I said, when our mouths parted. I tilted my head, bringing my lips to her throat as she arched her neck and I licked down her skin.
She moaned and climbed up on the pool table, straddling me and causing the room to spin when she pressed her core firmly into my aching erection. “If you’re not perfect,” she whispered into my ear, biting the lobe and causing a lightning bolt of lust to shoot from that small bit of cartilage straight between my legs, “then what are you?”
“I don’t know,” I said, meeting her eyes. And I suddenly knew that was true. I didn’t know if I’d ponder it later—maybe there was no point—but in that moment, I’d surrendered and within that surrender, there only lived honesty.
She sat up slightly and pulled her shirt over her head and I let out a sound that was a mix between a groan and a growl, my gaze drinking in pink lace covering full, round breasts. I brought my hands up which caused me to fall back on the table and Rory laughed, coming with me. We kissed for a few more minutes, licking into each other’s mouths with increasing urgency, and when I flipped her over, she laughed again. I gazed down at her, a distant stream of golden light falling over her skin and causing it to glow. “You’re so beautiful.”
