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There lurked trouble in his gaze. David was on his knees, leaning on the table watching them. “War!” the boy hollered, like he still played.
Sure enough, they’d both flipped a nine. She caressed the top of her pile. “Ready?”
“Bring it.”
Three facedown cards and she hovered over the fourth, not flipping it yet. Mitchell lifted his head and speared her with his gaze. His hair tumbled forward, partially blocking his eyes, but she couldn’t miss the heat there.
“David, can you count down for us to flip this one?” Hope gave him a smile.
“Yes!” He bounced a bit and inched closer.
Heck, the table had to be digging into his gut by this point, but the boy didn’t seem to care.
“Three.” A dramatic pause. “Two.” And a longer wait.
“Sure you don’t want to double down on the bet?” Mitchell interrupted the countdown.
“Why should I? Even if I were to lose, I still have more than three-quarters of the deck. If you lose, however, you’re out.”
“I’m counting, Mitchell.”
“Yeah, Mitchell,” she sassed. “He’s counting down…to your loss.”
How the hell this man managed to get so much intensity in his gaze, she couldn’t even begin to contemplate. But her body’s reaction was something she’d only thought happened in romance novels and movies where the ugly duckling got the hot guy at the end. Not that she viewed herself as an ugly duckling, but she was definitely not the prom queen.
“Will it be, though? My loss? A kiss is a win in my book, Flykra.”
“I’m still counting here.”
Everyone laughed. “Apologies, my liege,” she replied with a wink. “Please.”
“We have to start over now.” David glared. “Three.” Once again with the dramatic pause. “Two.” His gaze narrowed like he was expecting them to start talking once more.
Hope mimed zipping her lips shut and wriggled her fingers over her top card, waiting for the moment where she could flip it over. She wasn’t losing this one. Not a chance.
“One.”
They flipped the cards and she smirked before cheering, lifting her arms as the women watching the game echoed her. The men all gave a collective groan. She’d won. A queen to his nine.
Reaching for his cards, she scooped them toward her. “I believe this means you are out of the game, Mr. Anderson.”
“I’m thinking you cheated.” His words weren’t mean and there was a huge smile on his face.
“Those who lose generally do.” She stacked the cards then shuffled with the easy grace she had with them. His gaze snapped to her movements and she put down the deck and got to her feet.
Mitchell followed her up, his face still a bit uncertain.
“You get your kiss.”
Her belly clenched again. “That’s right, I do. I mean, I wanted a kiss from David but he made it very clear how he feels about kissing girls.”
Mitchell’s expression remained amused as he nodded. He was close enough to her she could feel his heat but no body parts of theirs touched. Yet.
“Maybe when I’m older, Hope, I’ll want to kiss you, but right now I don’t even like kissing my mom.” The little boy gave a small, one hundred percent adorable grin.
She sent him a smile. “It’s okay, David. I will survive.”
Mitchell sidled closer, his strong body brushing hers. “Who gets all the love you have to give?” His question was hushed but she felt it all the way to her toes.
Damn it! This man knows Gloria Gaynor.
“Are you going to kiss Mitchell, since you won?”
Yes! Her body clamored in the affirmative.
Thankfully, she snapped her mouth shut before it could punch free. “No.”
Mitchell lifted a blond eyebrow and held her gaze with a challenge. “No?”
God, it would be so easy to allow herself to accept a kiss from him. But she had to stay strong. Keep a distance between them, which didn’t allow her feelings to get any more involved. If she allowed her heart to get in on this, it was only going to hurt. She needed walls to stay safe. Allowing exploration of feelings with Mitchell wouldn’t end well for her. Not with a godlike man who made her want…more.
“Flykra.”
That name he called her, whatever it meant, rumbled up from his chest, hitting all of her spots. Hell, probably some she’d not even known were spots until that second.
Shoving down her need to experience the firm press of his lips against hers once more, she tipped her head to the left, over his broad shoulders, and grinned at Alistair. “I have someone else who gets my kiss. Alistair?”
“Hell yeah! Sorry kid, ignore that outburst.”
Hope snorted as he pumped his arms up in the air.
Mitchell’s eyes were nothing more than slits. His muscles flexed in those beautiful and powerful arms of his, but she shuffled by him and walked over to Alistair.
“I knew those lip push-up exercises would pay off.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “One taste of these lips, baby, and you’re never going to look anywhere else.”
