I glance toward the door. If someone comes earlier than that, I should be touching him. I put my hand around his neck, my fingers pressing against the rough feeling of his hair.
“How’s the game going?”
“It’s going,” he says. “Alex has already played himself out, but James, West and I are still in the game. Alvaro hasn’t wagered the castle yet. There are several rounds left, but he knows that’s what we were after, and he won’t wager it until the stakes get much higher.”
“What are you wagering?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he says. “Something I won’t hate Alex for if we end up losing.”
“I spoke to someone who says he knew you. Someone who’s sponsoring Alvaro at the table.”
His eyes immediately focus. “You did?”
“Yes. He told me what Alvaro’s tell is.”
“Why would he have done that?” Rafe asks. “Who is he?”
“I didn’t learn his name,” I say, and then run down what I was told by the stranger on the top of the yacht. I mention as many details as I can and feel Rafe grow stiller and angrier by the minute.
“Fuck,” he says, and closes his eyes. “Have you told anyone else this?”
“No. You know him?”
“Yes. He’s a former friend.” He looks at the door and then back at me. “Don’t talk to him again. Keep Nora and Amber close out there.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“He can be.” Rafe’s jaw works. “Either he told me Alvaro’s tell because it’s the truth, and he wants us to use it to win Alex’s estate back… so we owe him.”
“Or it’s a lie,” I say, “and he wants you to lose.”
“Yes.” Rafe shakes his head slowly. “But Alvaro is a risk-taker. He wouldn’t be sitting at that table if he wasn’t, and hewouldn’t have won Alex’s house if he wasn’t.” Rafe looks over at the door and then back at me. “They’ll come looking for me if I’m not back in time.”
“Good.” I reach into my clutch and pull out my red lipstick. He watches with dark eyes while I apply it. “We should give them something to talk about it.”
He shifts forward, and I grip the edges of his white shirt. I turn my face up and find his cheek and his neck. I kiss him slowly, pressing my lips to his warm skin to leave marks.
He smells like himself, like soap and man and a hint of cologne.
When I pull back, my heart has sped up and there are two smudged lipstick marks against his cheek. “There,” I murmur.
His hands have found my waist. He lifts me up and sets me on the edge of a low dresser. “Some of the players have taunted me about you already.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” His forehead brushes mine, so close we should be kissing, but we’re not.
“Have you broken?” I ask.
“No. I don’t break, Wilde. You’ve tried to push me there.” His lips brush over mine in the facsimile of a kiss. Outside the door, people are talking.
“You broke the night on the dock,” I say. His hand between my legs, and pleasure shooting through me, and the anger at having lost a point.
He wants me. He admitted as much, and how much it pained him.
But now he knows I want him too.
“I won, too,” he says. “You were wet.”
