“Winner breaks, right?” she says, a suggestive little tilt to her hips as she walks past me, gives me a smile, and runs her fingers across my shoulder. “Rack ‘em.”
Her touch makes my skin tingle, even through my T-shirt. But I’m torn between focusing on her, and watching the irritating antics of too many men too close to her. I’m not enjoying this the way I should be, and slam the balls down onto the table as I re-rackthem.
Fuck those guys. I’m here withher,not for any other reason, and I want to savor every minute of it. Hell, if I lose this match, it might just be the last time I see Genesis.
That thought makes it hard to breathe, and I know I won’t take no for an answer. Ican’t. Even though I’ve given her my word, and I’ll hate myself for it as much as she’ll hate me.
Great. Even my pride has gone. What the fuck is the matter with me?
But this isn’t just about Genesis. I have a job to do, too. If I lose this damn game, I told her I’d walk away fromRenner. Why the fuck did I agree to that?
I’m not thinking straight, and I know exactly why. She’s messing with my head.
She’s just a tool to get close to the crew, a means to an end. That’s what I have to remember. Anything else that happens between us is just… what, a perk of the job?
That’s cold, Declan.
It’s also unconvincing.
Genesis leans forward to break again, and she’s at the far end of the table, right opposite me. Her top dips as she lines up the shot, and there’s just enough of a curve of sun-kissed skin to prove really damn distracting. It’s no wonder every man in range is watching us, watchingher. She’s incredible, and we all know it.
Three balls on the break this time, and she setsabout working through hers.
“Fuck, look at that ass!”
“Haven’t once looked away.”
“Show us how far down those tats go!”
She ignores them like they haven’t spoken, getting on with the game. But it’s clear that one of her balls is stuck against the cushion, two of mine trapping it in. Though she makes a couple of attempts to bounce the cue ball into them and knock it free, it’s still clinging on desperately. Just like my chances.
And I’m getting worked up by the comments.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard men shout out at a girl like this, but it’s the first time it’s at anyone I care about. Maybe it doesn’t bother her, but it sure as hell bothers me.
“Nice try, baby!” one of the men calls as she misses, and she clicks her tongue in disappointment.
“Almost had you,” she says as she swaps places with me.
“I’m still going to have you,” I murmur as I pass her.
I use that thought as my motivation, concentrating enough to set aside the distractions for a few shots, and it doesn’t take me long to work through what she’s left me to clean up. She took five balls down that time, and the table’s open. One after the other sink into the pockets, and I line up on my next.
Then straighten without taking it, because that same asshole is back behind Genesis. This time, his hand isn’t on her waist. He slaps it into her ass.
And I see red.
“Hey! You keep—”
But Genesis lifts her cue up, then drives it down unerringly, right into the top of the guy’s foot. And she hardly moved.
“Fuck!” He cries out, hissing in pain, limping away from her and favoring his injured foot.
A couple of the guys laugh.
Genesis meets my gaze across the table, a playful little smile curling her lips. She’s enjoying herself, but I can’t tell whether it’s the game, the attention, me, or the casual violence she just committed. That guy’s still grimacing as he sits down heavily in a chair, then scowls at Genesis’s back.
I force a laugh because she’s watching me, but it’s strained. It takes me a couple of breaths to steady myself. Then I direct my building anger into my next shot, driving a ball into the corner pocket, and banking off to hit my last one free of the cushion.
