“But I distinctly said ‘No funny business’, remember?”
He laughs softly. “Oh, I remember… but I still want your panties.”
I gasp in shock. The thought of him claiming my underwear, even as a playful forfeit, is both thrilling and mortifying. It's a stark reminder of the dangerous game we've been playing, a game that's become all the more real with each passing moment.
"I suppose I should have known better than to consider a bet with you," I admit, my voice betraying a hint of breathlessness. I can't help but glance down at the hem of my skirt, the frayed denim suddenly feeling dirty.
Caine laughs softly, the sound a rich baritone that fills the room. "I told you, Jenna," he says, his words slow and deliberate, "I always get what I want."
The air between us feels charged, electric, as he steps closer, his gaze never leaving mine. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his deodorant mingling with the faint musk of… him. It's intoxicating, and for a moment, I forget where we are, lost in the gravity of this moment.
I should be outraged. I should tell him to go to hell. Instead, heat floods my body, pooling low in my belly.One last naughty thing before this ends. One final memory to hold onto.
"Fine," I hear myself say. "You're on."
He's won the lag, and as I sit and watch him rack the balls, my fingers shake a little.
He breaks with newfound intensity, running the table with effortless precision. I've never seen him so focused, so determined. It's like watching a different player altogether.
I am so going to lose this bet.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I'm playing defensively now, hooking him at every opportunity. My heart races with each shot. I want that surprise. I want to win.
Finally, just as the game nears an end, just as he's about to claim his prize, since I have yet to win a game, I manage to hook him good on the eight ball.
When he lines up an impossible three-bank shot, I hold my breath. I hold it as I watch the cue ball travel the perfect path, striking the eight ball, which rolls straight into the corner pocket he called.
"No fucking way," I breathe, defeated. "Shit."
He laughs, and I can't help but be caught up in his happiness. He's won. I need to hand over the goods. I'm mortified, but I'm also so fucking turned on.
"Now," he continues, the wicked grin still playing onhis lips, "are you going to make me come over there and collect my prize, or are you going to be a good sport and hand them over?"
The challenge in his voice snaps me back to reality, and I'm acutely aware of the pool hall around us and the low hum of conversation in the background. Greg is nowhere to be seen, likely busy in the office.
With a defiant lift of my chin, I meet Caine's gaze head-on. "You'll need to go sit down like a good boy.”
The wicked smile returns, broader than before, as Caine nods his agreement. "As you wish," he says, his tone dripping with promise. "I'll go sit and wait patiently."
And with that, he turns away, moving with that slow, deliberate grace that seems so inherently a part of him. As I watch him take a seat, I can't help but wonder what I've just gotten myself into. But one thing is certain: the memory of this day, this moment, will be etched into my mind forever—a bittersweet reminder of the games I played with a man who is as sweet as he is captivating.
My heart pounds like a drum, a rapid staccato that feels so intense. I glance around the pool hall once more, but Greg is still nowhere in sight. The few customers present are busy playing their own games, oblivious to the naughty game of cat and mouse unfolding in their midst.
I do remember what panties I have on—black cottonwith a lace trim. Cute and subtly sexy. I hope I haven't stained them—but Caine makes me so wet, I'm sure I have.
I lock eyes with him, and the heat in his gaze drives me wild. With a deep breath, I reach under my skirt, my fingers grazing the hem of my panties. I'm hyperaware of every movement, every sound—the faint catch of my breath, the sensual notes of the blues song playing softly in the background.
Caine watches me with a predatory intensity, his eyes darkening with unspoken desire. I can tell he's aroused. The sight of it sends a surge of boldness through me. I've never been this daring, this brazen. But with Caine, I find myself stepping outside the boundaries of my usual fairly composed self, embracing the thrill of the forbidden.
With a mix of trepidation and excitement, I slowly begin to peel my panties off, sliding them down over my hips, past my knees, and finally over my sneakers, smiling all the while. I'm careful to keep my movements subtle, my actions concealed beneath the cover of the pool table. The thrill of the possibility of being caught only adds to the heat of the moment.
He never takes his eyes off me. He doesn't move. He doesn't even blink. I don't think I've ever held a man's attention this intensely before.
Once free of the lacy fabric, I inch closer to Caine,my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. I extend my hand, revealing the crumpled panties to him, all the while making sure no one is watching. His eyes flicker, and he smiles broadly as he reaches out to accept his prize, his fingers brushing against mine in the process.
He takes the panties from me, balling them in his fist with a satisfied grin. "Good girl," he whispers, the low timbre of his voice sending a jolt through me. Before I can react, he slaps my ass. "You're the sweetest.”
