Playing with Fire: A Standalone Dark Romance

Chapter Thirty-nine

She sits on one of the stools at the bar, my shirt falling halfway down her thighs and glitter still shimmering on her skin. Raven black hair mused and disheveled, falls over her shoulders as she sips on the water I grabbed from the fridge behind the bar.

I’m back in my slacks, giving her a rest. I was far from being done with her, but I did need her to stay conscious, so here we are.

My hands easily organize the balls on the pool table, putting them back into formation before I grab the cue and chalk.

“Come here, kitten,” I order gently.

Lazy eyes follow me before she caps her water bottle and slides off the stool. I watch her long, toned legs eat up the space between us, a sensual, flirty little smile playing on her lips.

I hold a cue out for her, “Winner gets a prize.”

She quirks a brow, the smile on her mouth turning smug, “You sure you wanna play this game, Kai?”

Time stops.

The world stops spinning.

Kai.

The only people to call me Kai are those closest to me. My grandfather. My friends.

She’s only ever called me Malakai, if she uses my name at all, and hearing her call me something so intimate, like we were more than enemies, more than a man who forced a woman to marry him, feels like an ending to my universe and a beginning all the same.

“I want to play, kitten,” I swallow, pretending it doesn’t affect me the way it does. Like my cock isn’t already getting hard, like my heart didn’t skip a beat, like I’m not looking at her like she’s the very thing that makes my world spin.

It’s not been long enough. We don’t like each other past fucking or getting on each other’s nerves. But when she says my name, either version of it, I can’t help but feel like the sun has just risen after several days of night, like the clouds haven’t just parted after endless days of rain.

I feel like I’ve just been shot – it’s happened – and this burning, all-consuming pain is flowing through me. It was a few years ago now, an ex-employee who had escaped my inner circle after he tried to betray me to my competition. I found out, ordered his demise and everyone involved, but he tried to take me out first.

The bullet sliced through me, at my hip, though he was aiming for my heart, and it was a through and through, it went in and came out, but it still felt as if I was about to die.

That’s how it feels with her.

With Olivia.

Like the next moment with her might be my end.

And I anticipated it like a drug. If there were any way for me to go, at her hands, it would be with a smile.

“Fine,” She grins, taking the cue and circling the table.

She eyes the formation, the white ball and the table itself like she hasn’t played before. It’s obvious she has, and I don’t doubt her skill, I just know I am better.

“Who breaks?” She asks, fingering the collar of my shirt.

“Go ahead,” I give her a grin.

“And what do I get if I win?”

“Anything you want.” I tell her, “But if I win, I get you for one day. Twenty-four hours. With no rules.”

She quirks a brow and gives me a lazy half smile, the confidence oozing from her pores. “Fine.” She flicks her hand as if that isn’t a big deal. She thinks she’s going to win.

She lines up, bending across the table. My shirt slides up her thighs, teasing at the crease of her ass. I’m so focused on her, on where the material of my shirt whispers on her soft skin that I don’t see her take the shot. The sound of the white slamming into the ball’s jolts me from my trance on her body and I look to the table, seeing her pot two of the red balls.

“I played in college,” She tells me, “Willow and I made it our goal to out play the frat guys since they believed women shouldn’t be able to play. We always bet a lot of money and pretended we were awful to get them to play along. It brought me an immense amount of joy to crush them.”

She flutters her lashes.

“That’s called hustling,” I point out, watching her take her second shot. She pockets another red easily, a cocky little smirk pulling on her mouth as she analyzes the remaining four reds on the table.

“Hustling,” She shrugs, “I call it being fifty grand richer.”

“That’s how much you earned?”

“Throughout college, yes. Those guys didn’t care about the money though, they were more pissed that they were beaten by a couple of girls. Eventually they stopped playing with us because out of all the games we played, we lost maybe two or three. We didn’t need the money, but it was fun taking it from them.”

I chuckle, “I can imagine.”

She lines up and sinks a ball.

Three reds left and all my yellows are still on the table.

The white ball is positioned in such a way that she has to bend across the table directly in front of me. The shirt rises, leaving her bared to me. My cock strains behind my zipper. Fuck I need to be in her again.

I fist my hands to stop me from reaching for her. I want to finish the game even if fucking her right now is the only thing on my mind.

She strikes the ball but the red bounces off the corner of the pocket, rolling up the table.

Straightening, she throws a wink over her shoulder as if she knows exactly what she just did and did it, just to throw me off my game. I grab my cue, eyeing the yellows.

Time to bring this home. Having her for twenty-four hours, no rules, no restrictions is not something I’m going to lose the chance to have.

She leans on the bar, watching as I take my first shot, pocketing a yellow. Then I clean up. I pocket every ball without issue, leaving her three reds and the black on the table.

I look up, giving her a grin, “Not so cocky now, Olivia?”

Her eyes narrow, “You have to get the black,” she shrugs, “And that shot isn’t easy.”

Not easy but doable.

She pushes off the bar and strolls casually to the head of the table. The black is sitting behind her three reds, the white almost on the cushion in front of me. She stands directly in front of me, the table between us.

The easiest pocket would be corner left, so that’s how I line it up.

I pull the cue back at the same time Olivia decides to stretch. The shirt rises, lifting up and over her pussy and I fuck the shot up. The white strikes her red, a foul which gives her two shots.

Fuck.

She drops her arms and attempts to hide her smile but fails.

She pockets her last three balls and eyes the black currently sitting dead flush against the cushion and between two pockets.

I have no doubt she’ll be able to get it in.

She lines up and strikes and I watch, focused on the ball as it bounces off the cushion and heads for the pocket only for it to bounce off the corner.

“Shit!” She hisses.

I walk around the table slowly, stalking her until I can brush my fingers up her thigh, reveling in the way her skin pebbles in reaction to my touch.

“Twenty-four hours,” I muse, “And at least half of that will be spent with you naked with my cock buried inside of you.”

Her breath stutters as I line up, strike the black and sink it, winning me the game.

“I’ll be cashing in for those twenty-four hours soon, Olivia,” I turn to her, pressing my chest to hers as my fingers go to the hem of my shirt.

Her lashes flutter as I let my fingers crawl up her thigh, over her hip until I can curl my hand around her waist.

“Malakai,” Her voice is a whisper against my lips as I lean in, tasting her. I don’t kiss her enough, I think, as I lay my mouth on hers a lot firmer, my tongue testing at the seam of her lips.

She opens for me, granting me access so my tongue plunges into her mouth, stealing her breath and her whimpers. I press her back against the bar before I lift. Her legs come around my waist as her fingers grip on my hair. For a few more blissful seconds she kisses me with as much demand as me but then her fingers curl and she tugs my head back, forcing me away from her mouth.

“Olivia,” I growl.

Kiss swollen lips press to the corner of my mouth, “I have to get ready. And I still need to pick up my dress.”

Lifting a little higher, I plant her ass on the bar and when she tries to unhook her legs, I tug them back. “You stay.” I order before I pull out my cell. “Dennis.” He answers immediately. “I need you to collect Olivia’s dress.”

“Where?” Is his response.

I look to Olivia for the details and when she gives them, I pass them over to Dennis.

“Now you don’t need to pick up the dress,” I tell her, triumphant that I get to keep her for a little longer.

“I thought you said Dennis was off today,” She challenges, hands coming back to me.

“I lied,” I whisper, “I just wanted to keep you close.”

She searches my eyes, for what, I’m not sure but then her face softens, “Not sure you could be any closer.”

A wicked grin pulls on my mouth, “Wanna bet?”