"Am I?"
"You do that thing with your jaw when you're bluffing,” I said as I watched him.
"What thing?"
"That thing." I gestured vaguely at his face. "The muscle twitches."
He grinned. "Show me yours, and I'll show you mine."
I laid down my cards. Two pair.
Wyatt's grin widened as he revealed a straight.
"Damn it," I muttered, and pulled off my remaining sock.
"That's it?" he asked. "Just the sock?"
I glared at him. "What did you expect?"
"I don't know." His eyes traveled over me slowly, deliberately. "Maybe something more interesting."
"You want interesting? Win another hand."
"Oh, I intend to."
The next hand I won, and Wyatt stood up to undo his belt with maddening slowness, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked.
"Immensely," I lied, trying to ignore how dry my mouth had gone.
He pushed his jeans down and kicked them aside, standing there in just his boxer briefs, and I couldn't look away even though I knew I should.
He was all lean muscle and tan skin and that trail of dark hair that disappeared below his waistband. Every rational thought I ever had evaporated.
"Your deal," he said, and his voice had dropped lower.
I dealt with shaking hands.
I lost the next hand.
"Jeans," Wyatt said, and it wasn't a question.
I stood up, my pulse racing, and unbuttoned my jeans with far less grace than he had. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, hot and intense, as I pushed the denim down my hips and stepped out of them.
When I looked up, the expression on his face made my stomach flip.
"Tessa," he said, and my name sounded rough in his mouth.
"What?"
"Come here."
It wasn't a command, exactly. More like a request. A plea.
I should've said no. Should've picked up my cards and kept playing. Should've kept the distance between us.
Instead, I walked over to where he sat on the hay bale, and he reached up and pulled me down onto his lap.
