Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
I push through the pool hall door, the blast of warm air a welcome relief from the cold March chill.
My eyes immediately find Caine at his usual table, bent over a shot with that intense concentration that makes my stomach flip.
He hasn't noticed me yet, and I take advantage of the moment to watch him.
The way his body moves when he plays is something to behold—fluid and controlled, each gesture precise.
His face is a study in focus, brows drawn together, lips slightly parted.
I wonder what those lips would feel like against my skin, what his hands could do if they weren't wrapped around a cue.
The thought sends heat rushing through me that has nothing to do with the pool hall's heating system.
I am such a whore. I obviously have some pent-up sexual frustrations to deal with. I should watch some porn and masturbate like Liza does.
I pull off my winter hat, combing my fingers through my hair to tame the static. My heart hammers against my ribs as I stand there, waiting for him to look up. He's so absorbed in what he's doing—lining up a complicated bank shot—that he doesn't see me for the longest time.
When he finally does, his reaction is worth the wait. He freezes mid-stroke, cue suspended in air, his jaw actually dropping. I've never seen him look anything but composed, and the sight of him momentarily speechless gives me a surge of power.
I walk toward him, nervousness making my steps unsteady. He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've never seen from him before.
"Damn, woman. You look fucking amazing.” The words tumble out before he catches himself. "Sorry. That was... inappropriate."
The curse word sounds strange coming from his usually controlled mouth, but it sends a thrill through me. I've never heard him swear before, and something about the rawness of it makes my pulse quicken.
He moves closer, reaching out to touch a lock of my hair, wrapping it gently around his finger.
He doesn't let go, and I don't pull away.
We stand there, staring at each other, the air between us charged with something dangerous and electric.
This isn't how our playdates usually begin.
There's always been tension, but nothing this explicit, this undeniable.
He helps me out of my jacket, his fingers brushing against my neck, and I nearly gasp at the contact. Every nerve ending in my body seems to be firing at once. It’s absolutely ridiculous.
That’s it. I need porn and a vibrator asap.
My hands shake as I pull my cue from its case. "Shall we play?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears, breathless and uncertain.
"A few games of eight-ball?" Caine asks with a playful wink, his voice low and smooth as he racks the balls.
"Sure." I try to sound casual, but my voice betrays me with a slight tremor. We both know we want to play a different game altogether.
He breaks, sending balls scattering across the felt. Two stripes drop into pockets.
“Two stripes down,” he announces, circling the table like a predator.
I watch him sink three more shots before missing. When I step up to the table, he doesn't back away, standing close enough that I can smell his cologne—something expensive and intoxicating that makes my head swim.
"You're still gripping the cue too tight," he murmurs, moving behind me as I line up my shot. His chest presses against my back, his breath warm against my ear. "Relax your fingers."
I try to focus on my technique, but all I can think about is his body against mine. My shot goes wide, missing completely.
"Sorry," I mumble, straightening up but not moving away from him.
"Don't apologize." His hand brushes mine as he takes the cue. "I like teaching you."
Greg appears suddenly at the edge of the table, his presence like a bucket of cold water. What a cockblocker.
“Everything good over here?" His eyes narrow at our proximity.
"Perfect," Caine replies without looking at him. "Just giving Jenna some pointers."
Greg lingers a moment too long before returning to the bar. I feel a flash of irritation—I'm not a child who needs constant supervision.
"Your watchdog is vigilant," Caine says with a slight smile.
"Reeves doesn't trust you."
"Smart man." He leans in closer. “But the question is… do you trust me, Jenna?"
The question hangs between us. I should say no. I should step away. Instead, I hear myself whisper, "I don't know."
His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me right here in the middle of the pool hall. My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure he can hear it.
"Your shot," he says finally, stepping back and gesturing to the table.
I exhale slowly, not realizing I'd been holding my breath.
I turn back to the table, trying to focus on the game rather than the man watching me. My hands are still trembling as I line up my shot. The cue ball connects with a solid ball, sending it rolling toward the corner pocket where it stops just short of dropping in.
"Almost," Caine says, his voice like velvet.
He moves around the table, studying the layout before leaning down to take his shot.
I can't help but stare at the way his shoulders flex beneath his shirt, how his long fingers curl around the cue with perfect precision.
There's something hypnotic about watching him play—like he's performing some intricate dance only he knows the steps to.
"Tell me something real about you," I say suddenly, surprising myself with my boldness.
Caine straightens, his green eyes finding mine across the table. He considers the question, twirling the chalk between his fingers.
"I have nightmares about aneurysms," he admits quietly. "My grandfather died from one when I was twenty-two. Sometimes I wake up convinced there's a time bomb in my brain."
The raw honesty catches me off guard. I wasn't expecting him to share something so personal, so vulnerable.
"I'm sorry about your grandfather," I say. "That must have been terrible."
"It was." He nods, then turns his attention back to the table.
Greg clears his throat loudly from behind the bar, reminding us we're not alone. I roll my eyes, and Caine's mouth quirks up in a half-smile that makes my stomach flip.
"We should probably focus on the game," I say, though it's the last thing I want to do.
"Probably," he agrees. He inches closer, lowering his voice. "But I'd rather focus on you with your hair down. You should wear it like that more often."
Heat blooms in my cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Do that." His eyes linger on my face for a moment longer before he finally takes a seat. "Your turn, Jenna."
As I line up my shot, I let my mind wander to a place where Greg isn't keeping a watchful eye on us, where Reeves isn't waiting for me at home, where the pool hall is empty except for me and Caine.
In this fantasy, the air is thick with desire, the tension between us palpable.
Caine's eyes are locked on mine, and when he steps closer, there's no one to interrupt us.
I imagine him setting his cue aside, reaching for me with a hunger that matches my own.
My heart races as he closes the distance between us, his hands finding my hips, pulling me against him.
In this dream, I don't resist. I don't think about the consequences.
I let myself fall into him, into the heat of the moment.
His lips find mine in a kiss that's both a question and a demand. It's a kiss that I feel in every part of my body, a kiss that ignites a fire deep within me. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as we stumble toward the pool table.
In my mind, we're fumbling with each other's clothes, eager to feel skin against skin. He lays me back on the green felt, his body covering mine, and for a moment, the world outside these walls ceases to exist. We're lost in each other, moving together in a dance as old as time.
The sound of a ball dropping into a pocket jerks me back to reality. I blink, disoriented, my cheeks flushed with the heat of my daydream. Caine is watching me, a knowing smile playing on his lips as if he can read my thoughts. I look away, my heart pounding so loudly I'm sure he can hear it.
We finish our game in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. When the last ball is pocketed, Caine straightens, his gaze never leaving mine.
He eyes the clock and knows our time is up. There's no lingering with Reeves’s watchdog just a few feet away. "Thank you for the games, Jenna," he says, his voice low and intimate.
I nod, unable to find my own voice. He steps closer, and for a wild moment, I think he might actually kiss me. Instead, he leans in, his breath warm against my ear.
"Next time, I want you to wear your hair down again," he murmurs, his fingers brushing against my arm. "And I also want you to wear a skirt."
His words send a shiver down my spine. I turn to look at him, my eyes wide.
His lips curve into a slow, seductive smile. "Something tasteful, but above the knee."
I swallow hard, my mind racing with the implications of his request. Part of me is terrified by the thought of crossing that line, of giving in to the undeniable attraction between us.
But another part of me is thrilled by the idea, eager to explore the connection that crackles in the air whenever we're together.
"I'll see what I can do," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
His smile widens, and he steps back, giving me space to breathe. "I look forward to it."
As he gathers his belongings, and I watch him leave, my heart still racing, my thoughts a tangled mess. I know I'm playing with fire, but I can't seem to help myself. There's something about Caine that draws me in, something that makes me forget all the reasons why this is a bad idea.
As I walk out of the pool hall and into the cold winter air, I can't stop thinking about his request. The idea of wearing a skirt for him, of showing him a part of me that I’ve kept hidden, is both exhilarating and terrifying.
As I drive home, I make a decision. Next time, I'll wear the skirt.
Next time, I'll let my hair down for him.
And I'll see where this dangerous game leads us.
I won't let it get too far… just a little fun until our sessions are over.
I have four more hours with this beautiful man, and I want to make the most of it.
What's the worst that could happen? In the pool hall, with Greg's watchful eye on us?
Nothing much, I tell myself. We might as well have fun with it.
For better or for worse, I'm in too deep to turn back now. Caine has awakened something inside me that I didn't even know was there—a hunger for excitement, a craving for something more than the quiet, predictable life I've been living.
And I can't wait to see what happens next.