Tristan and I hadn’t coveredpokingthe bear, but maybe going on the attack first was a better approach.
Hedging my bets, I tossed my cards in the pot.
“I fold.”
Max didn’t look up, a smug, satisfied smirk gracing his gorgeous face. “’Bout time.”
With a barely believable, slightly annoyed scoff, he scooped up my cards and our chips.
I used his distraction to my advantage and whipped my T-shirt over my head.
He froze. Halfway through stacking my chips on top of his, every ounce of his attention locked on my body.
Or, more accurately, on my bra-clad chest.
Swallowing deeply, he shifted in his seat. “What the hell are you doing?”
I shrugged, making my tits bounce. “My shirt was caked with mud. And you won that hand. That means I lose an article of clothing, right?”
He blinked rapidly, his brow dipping as he tried to process what I’d said while having a staring contest with my cleavage.
I leaned forward and pulled the cards from in front of him over to me, sweeping them into a pile. When my breasts pressed against the table, his lips parted.
The furrow in his brow deepened, and he clenched the poker chips in his fist.
Wary of spooking him, since this was the longest we’d gone without a snide comment, I bit my tongue and said nothing. I sat back down slowly.
Once I shuffled the cards and dealt, I peeked at my hand and tossed my bet into the pot.
Max swallowed again, his eyes darting between me and the door. “We’re not playing strip poker, Quinn.”
“Why not?” I shrugged, my voice lacking heat or a challenge.
Max surprised me by answering it without being a dick.
He muttered under his breath, but the best he came up with was, “Quinn, this isn’t appropriate.”
“You’re supposed to train me onSubterfuge, right?” I arched a brow, sliding the cards together and tapping the top of the deck. “Well, what better way to show me? I mean, it’ll be aMasterclass if you make it through the game without letting me get under your skin.”
Pasting an innocent smile on my face, I dropped my chin and snuck glances at him while his wheels spun. I leaned back in my chair and cartwheeled internally as his gaze followed me.
Then I went all in.
“Come on, Max,” I whispered. “Idareyou.”
His throat bobbed, his onyx eyes darting to my face.
But if he was trying to meet my gaze, he got lost on his way. He stared at my lips, his parting. When his gaze lingered, I peeked my tongue out, running it quickly over my lower lip before meeting his stare.
He pushed back from the table suddenly, like he might bolt.
“You have to train me, Max.” I stopped him in his tracks. “If you leave every session and don’t do your job, I’ll complain about unfair treatment.”
He froze and narrowed his eyes on mine.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Doyouwant to explain to everyone why it’s so hard for you to be in a room with me? Why you can’t play a simple game without running away?”
His eyes darkened, and the heat in his stare should’ve scared me, but I didnothave the appropriate fear-based response to it. My panties were drenched, and I wanted him to pounce. Leap over the table and pin me on my back.
