9. Lars
The second I step inside I feel her before I can see her.
A prickle at the base of my spine. A shift in the room’s energy. That instinctual awareness predators have when another one is nearby.
Then I spot her at a fresh table, and there’s an empty seat next to her.
Perfect.
I don’t even bother pretending I’m here for the cards anymore. I sit down beside her, close enough for our knees to touch. Close enough to smell her. There’s a hint of perfume, blended with her warm skin.
Fuck.
She turns her head, and those dark eyes flick over me.
Her hair is loose tonight, blonde waves spilling over one shoulder.
She painted her lips the same ruinous red.
And the top she’s wearing dips just low enough for me to see the line of her collarbone and the slope of her breasts rising with each breath.
I lean back in my chair, but I can still feel her as if she imprinted herself into every cell of my body.
The dealer pushes out cards. I hardly glance at mine because her thigh brushes mine under the table, the slightest accidental contact—but my body reacts and hers does as well. I feel her go still beside me as her breath catches.
We go a few rounds with quiet tension building until a man in a suit sits down on her other side. He’s in his mid-forties, a gold band on his ring finger, and he’s already sweating through his collar.
He gives Neomi a slow once-over.
“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a table like this?”
Tension spreads through my body at his words, but Neomi doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. She simply flicks a chip forward with her middle finger, giving him no response.
I almost smile.
The next hand is dealt, and when I look down, I see Ace-King of clubs. I raise three times the big blind. Neomi is next, and she sends out a stack of chips toward the pot—a clear message that this is her hand.
“Re-raise,” she says.
Suit Guy smirks. “Confidence looks good on you, sweetheart.”
She rolls her eyes, letting out a sarcastic sigh. “And your chips will look good when I add them to my stack. Call if you’re interested in the hand.”
Jesus Christ.
My cock twitches so hard I have to shift forward, bracing one forearm on the table like I’m analyzing chip stacks—but it’s just to keep from adjusting myself like some fucking animal in heat.
Suit Guy calls, and the rest of us fold. The flop hits with just the two of them in the hand.
Three cards hit the felt: King of hearts, seven of clubs, and two of hearts.
Now I’m pissed that I folded my hand—I would have top pair here. Neomi checks. Suit Guy bets big.
I feel her body language shift. I feel it because I’m so goddamn tuned into her that I could count her breaths if I focused enough.
She calls.
Suit Guy scoffs. “Cute.”
The turn comes, and it’s the two of diamonds. Both of them check.
“You check the turn after raising me before the flop? Sweetheart, who taught you how to play poker?” Suit Guy takes a sip of his whiskey.
She smiles, slow as sin. “I could say the same to you…you’re the one giving me a free card.”
The dealer lays down the river card. A nine of spades. No straight or flush draw got there; the board is pretty random. I can only assume that Suit Guy flopped top pair with that King.
Suit Guy leans back in his chair. “All in.”
Neomi immediately answers, “Call.”
The man’s eyes shoot to her.
Neomi flips her cards, revealing a seven of hearts and two of clubs. A full house. She began with the worst starting hand in poker, but she hit with it.
Fucking dirty and I love it.
Suit Guy throws his cards face down toward the middle of the table.
“What the fuck were you doing in that hand with that garbage?”
She shrugs. “I was getting bored.”
The table murmurs as the dealer pushes the pot towards her. She leans closer, voice low enough that only I hear it.
“Men really should learn not to underestimate me.”
My pulse slams hard and fast.
“Some learn fast,” I murmur.
Then she turns her face toward mine. “And some learn the hard way.”
I let my voice drop, meant only for her. “I’m willing to learn some things the hard way if you let me.”
Her breath stutters as she shifts in her seat. She doesn’t even try to hide the way her fingers tremble while she gathers her chips. It’s subtle—something no one else at the table would catch.
We play another orbit, but neither of us is focused anymore. At least I’m not. In my mind, she’s under me in the bed of her hotel room. My dick is deep inside her and she’s screaming my name. With thoughts like that, it’s hard to concentrate on the cards.
Finally, she slides her chair back and says under her breath, “I’m cashing out.”
“It’s early.”
She turns to look at me. Her eyes scan down to my dick and drag back up to my eyes. “I can think of much better ways to spend the evening.”
“Cash out,” I say quickly.
The dealer signals the attendant. Two trays appear instantly, one for her tall, perfectly stacked towers and one for mine that didn’t change much since I sat down. I follow her to the cash out counter. She cashes out, and when I’m finished, I nod toward the door.
“Ready?”
She walks toward the door, and I follow like a pathetic fucking dog.
“Yes,” she says over her shoulder. “Drive me to my hotel, Lars.”