Page 42 of Dirty Chorus

“Yeah... like strip poker. I’ve never played.”

“You’re really invested in getting me naked.” He nods, then deals three cards face-up in the center of the bed.

“We’re just taking it slow like you said.” I bring my cards up to my lips.

I have a Seven of Hearts and a Ten of Diamonds. Not exactly a winning hand, but nothing too atrocious.

“The Flop,” he announces like one of those dramatic narrators on a Netflix documentary. “A king, a ten, and a four.”

My eyes widen. There’s a glorious ten. That means I have a pair. I try to keep my expression neutral, but I’m biting my bottom lip, squealing as I shimmy my shoulders from side to side. He studies the community cards, then back at me, his expression unreadable. “Your turn,” he says, moving the cards around in his hand. “And by the way, you’re wearing less clothing than I am. You’re going to have to be really good in order to get me naked.”

My mind races to come up with something clever to say. “Should I bet, or should I check?” I tap my fingers to my lips.

“You can’t give away your thoughts,” he chuckles.

“Right, right!” I didn’t want to give away that I had a pair, but I also didn’t want to seem weak. In reality, I’m clueless about what to do. “I’ll check.” I flash him a toothy grin finally, trying to sound confident.

He nods again, his lips pressed together. “I’ll wager on your top first.” Noah smirks at the remark. My heart pounds between my thighs.

“Fine, if you lose, it’s both your pants and shirt to make it even.”

“Tempting,” he says. Was he bluffing, or did he have something good? I looked at my cards again, trying to decide what to do.

He’s expressionless and deals another card face up on the bed. “The turn,” he says, revealing a Two of Spades.

So now there’s a king, ten, four, and two. My pair of tens still seems okay, but the king was sending jitters down my spine. Those cards are always good. I’m choked up about what to do, fiddling with the cards in my hand.

“It’s your turn, Trouble.” He’s so casual, but with a hint of something up his sleeve.

I bite my fingernails. With my leg bouncing on the mattress, I think my brain is in overdrive, and right now isn't the time to break out in a sweat. “I’ll check,” I say.

He pauses for a moment, tapping his hand on his chin. The tattoos on his fingers are gorgeous, and it’s a distant memory of them tangled in my hair. “I bet everything you’re wearing,” he says, and my chest explodes. I cough up a gasp as he’s ignited my blood on fire.

I’ll be completely naked. He either has a really good hand, or he was just trying to get me to cave? I look at my cards again, then at the board. The king had a knife to my throat, but there was also the possibility he had a pair of something else. I’m about to melt into a puddle. He’s still going to be wearing everything and it’ll just be me naked, alone for the rest of eternity.

My palms get clammy. This poker thing was way more stressful than that one time I couldn’t pick out what shade of pink I wanted my nails painted. I can only imagine how choked up I’m going to be if I have to play strip poker until I have to sleep with someone. I dunno how good any of the football players are at poker. Clearly I’m clueless, and an easy target.

Noah’s good at not giving anything away.

“I’ll call,” I whisper. He chuckles a little and then deals the final card. It’s a Ten of Diamonds, and my heartbeat went into my eardrums.

Now I have Three of a Kind! My breathing intensifies, and I’m leaning my head back, trying to control my face, but I can’t help it. I’m so excited and infected with giggles.

“Show me how much trouble I’m in,” he says.

My cheeks hurt from how hard I’m smiling as I lay down my cards, revealing my ten with fluttering eyelashes. “Three tens.” I tap my feet on the bed and rest my chin on my kneecaps.

He licks his lips and laughs out of his nose. My chest hurts at this point. He lays the cards on the mattress. Two kings. His Three of a Kind beats mine.

He bites his bottom lip, places both hands on the back of his head and lays down on the mattress. “Three kings. Pay up.” He wiggles his fingers.

My cheeks are fire-hot. This was a lot easier when I was drunk and tipsy because it seemed to infect me with confidence I don’t usually possess. I wrap my arms around the lacy seams of my pajama shirt and pull it over my head, balling it up into a fist before I chuck it at his face. He lies there, not peeking over at all, just staring up at the ceiling.

I shimmy out of my shorts and tan underwear and dig my nails into the fabric. Goosebumps run up my spine as he uses elbows to lift himself up, finally looking at me. He puckers his lips and whistles at me. “Damn, aren’t you a beauty?” He reaches over for my shorts and yanks them from my hands. I wrap my arms around my breasts.

I think I forgot how to breathe as he soaks me in. He runs a hand over his face before he grabs his phone lying on the bed. It’s almost past eleven, and he sucks in a deep breath between gritted teeth. “Well, Trouble, it’s getting kinda late. I gotta work tomorrow.”

My heart tanks. I stubbed my toe and hysterically shaved, and now he has to leave? Guys don’t leave. Never once in my life has a guy seen me naked and wanted to hightail it out of my room. They pounce on me if I say yes. Hello? Do you want to see my inbox of thirsty guys?