Fuck.
I toss my cards into the pile and take a slow drink of my whiskey, buying myself time to debate what item of clothing I’ll be discarding.Sweatshirt or leggings? Sweatshirt or leggings?
All I have underneath is a matching lace bra and panties.
Trey’s eyes dance as he watches me debate. He doesn’t rush me. In fact, I think he’s enjoying the anticipation.
I refuse to admit I am, too. I can’t believe I’m doing this, and it was my idea. The drinks have clearly made me bolder than ever. Trey thinks he’s the only one with fantasies of us, but he’s wrong. I’ve thought about crossing that line with him too many times to count.
Screw it. Leggings it is.
I stand, looking him in the eyes before I tuck my thumbs into my leggings. We don’t break eye contact as I shimmy them down over my ass and kick them off of my feet with a dramatic flare.
Trey finally breaks, letting his eyes flick down to my black lace bikini-cut panties before roving up and down my bare legs. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his mouth before saying. “Those definitely weren’t in your laundry.”
I laugh and sit. “You are unbelievable.”
He shuffles the cards but doesn’t take his eyes off me. I try to fight my genuine smile, but I can’t. Sitting half-naked in my kitchen, drunk with Trey, is the most fun I’ve had in years.
Trey closes the fridge and catches me checking him out—again—as he walks back to the table in nothing but his boxers. The National Finals back number tattoos on his shoulder blades do not help my burning desire.
“Need a towel to sit on?” He flashes a knowing smirk.
I flip him off.Cocky bastard.
I should still have my leggings on, but I can’t focus. The way he’s looking at me tonight is . . . more. It almost feels like there could be something between us, but I know better.Right?
Trey deals our hands, and we play another round. Neither of us speak. We’re more focused than any other hand. I’m sure he’d rather not sit here with his dick out, and all I have left is my sweatshirt before he gets to see the second half of my matching lace set. I can tell he’sdyingto see what’s under my sweatshirt—probably hoping for nothing at all.
A few minutes later, my heart rate has climbed to an unhealthy level. I’m still several cards away from gin, but I can tell he’s getting close. It’s written all over him—he’s practically holding his breath each time he draws a card.
I see it on his face first. As soon as he draws his next card, he can’t stop the smile that grows as my eyes go wide.
“Gin,” he says triumphantly.
Well, shit.
Here goes nothing. I did pick this game, and I’m not uncomfortable. I love my body, and if I had to bet, I’d say Trey is a fan as well.
We lay our cards down at the same time before I slowly—torturously slowly—pull one arm out of my sweatshirt. Then the other arm, before lifting it over my head.
His eyes devour me, sweeping from my collarbone down to my waist and back up. I think I might pass out. I take it back. This game was a horrible idea. I have on a black lace bra, asee-throughblack lace bra. It matches my panties, and,fuck me, his eyes just caught on my belly button ring.
“Is this what you’ve been walking around the house in this entire time?” His voice is gravel as he leans forward on the table, holding eye contact.
I busy myself gathering the cards, ignoring his question because, no, I don’t normally wear my most expensive, sexiest set around the house. I did it tonight because I was feeling a little something extra. Apparently, that extra was getting tipsy and stripping naked in front of myroommate.
It’s my turn to deal. I stare down at the stack of cards and pause. If he loses, he’ll be fully naked. If I lose, I might as well be. We should stop. I don’t want to stop, but we should. This could easily turn into something we can’t take back. Our mutual attraction is a house fire, and we’re both stuck inside. But then again . . . this has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?
My train of thought is cut off when Trey stands and starts to leave the room. “We should call it a night.”
What the hell?
Is he seriously the one walking away right now? I go after him, cutting him off. “What’s wrong, Bennett? Afraid you’ll lose? Too cold in here for you to measure up?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t respond, stepping to move around me, but I step with him, blocking his exit, fully invested in this fight now. He’s chased me for a year, and now, what? He’s changed his mind now that he’s seen more? I know I’m not a double D, but I rock my C cups, thank you very much. “The view not good enough for you?”
He freezes. His blue eyes find mine, but I don’t see a challenge reflected back at me, I seedesire. “What the fuck did you just say?” he growls.
