Chapter 18
Jessie
Trey’s head drops between his arms in defeat as I lay down my cards, a wicked grin on my face.
“ Gin.” My heart pounds in my chest. We’ve crossed into dangerous territory, and I can’t believe it was me who suggested strip gin.
I haven’t played this since college, and for good reason.
I suck at it. The only reason I won that hand was pure luck.
I paid no attention to the game, too distracted by Trey.
The alcohol has made me brave and stupid.
So stupid.
He stands slowly and grips the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. My mouth waters—literally waters—as I shamelessly check him out. Add “horny” to the list. Brave, stupid, and horny.
I knew he went to the gym, but damn, he’s cut. Every ab muscle flexes perfectly, and that V disappearing behind his Cinch jeans and trophy belt buckle has me shifting in my seat. I’ve always found him attractive but seeing him shirtless is a whole new level.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been checking him out when it dawns on me—he hasn’t sat back down. My face heats, turning red as my eyes meet his, and he has the biggest grin on his face.
This motherfucker.
He knows exactly what he’s doing. He disarmed me with pineapple pizza after a long day at work, and now he’s using his playboy charm and underwear-model-worthy body to reel me in. He probably lost on purpose.
Well, it won’t work. I might look and appreciate it, but I won’t touch. No, sir. No touching for me.
“If you’re done checking me out, it’s your turn to deal.”
I look down at my cards, avoiding the panty-melting smile on his face. He sits, and I look up at him. Meeting his eyes, I slowly run my tongue across my lips.
His eyes go wide. He looks nearly feral.
If he wants to play dirty, so can I. “Thought you were good at cards, but look at you now. Put clothes on the line and you choke.”
“I’ll give you something to choke on.” He winks and starts gathering the cards.
I try to hold it back, but I can’t help it.
I burst out laughing, and his own shoulders silently shake with laughter.
I discard for the sixth time when Trey knocks his knuckles on the table.
What the hell, no way he’s knocking this soon.
My hand is complete shit, I haven’t even had the chance to set anything up.
He lays his cards down, and I peek over. I definitely lost.
I don’t hesitate before removing my left sock and throwing it in his face. He laughs and bends over to check out my toes, waggling his eyebrows.
I squeal. “Don’t, you freaking weirdo.”
“Just returning the favor. You have cute toes.”
“You got a foot fetish you haven’t told me about?”
“Nope, it’s just your toes.”
We might be playing a dangerous game tonight, but I can’t deny we’ve grown closer these last few weeks.
I’ve tried to let myself relax around him, and now we’ve developed our own friendship outside of Knox and Kacey or gathering at the ranch.
Trey is funny, smart, kind, and thoughtful.
He’s always doing random little things for me, like making me my favorite pizza.
That stupid pizza had my stomach doing flips.
But I worry I’ll get too used to him being around, his help around the house—which I’m slowly, reluctantly starting to let him do—or just his presence in a room. I push those thoughts aside for tonight. He’s here now. I can worry about those thoughts tomorrow.
He knocks on the next hand, but I’ve been waiting, biding my time. I lay my cards down, showing him I undercut him.
“What the shit? You did that on purpose!” he accuses.
I shrug, happy to have gotten the best of him. Me and my one sock.
“Read ‘em and weep, bull rider. Now strip.” I snap my fingers.
Grumbling, he undoes his belt and pulls it from the loops.
I don’t have a therapist. Based on my life choices and childhood, I probably need one. But right now, it’s a good thing I don’t, because I can’t imagine they’d enjoy spending an hour each week listening to me detail all the dirty thoughts I have about my roommate.
I’m down both socks, and Trey is in nothing but his dark-red boxers as he lays his cards down. “Gin.”
Fuck.
I toss my cards into the pile and take a slow drink of my whiskey, buying myself time to debate what item of clothing I’ll be discarding. Sweatshirt or leggings? Sweatshirt or leggings?
All I have underneath is a matching lace bra and panties.
Trey’s eyes dance as he watches me debate. He doesn’t rush me. In fact, I think he’s enjoying the anticipation.
I refuse to admit I am, too. I can’t believe I’m doing this, and it was my idea. The drinks have clearly made me bolder than ever. Trey thinks he’s the only one with fantasies of us, but he’s wrong. I’ve thought about crossing that line with him too many times to count.
Screw it. Leggings it is.
I stand, looking him in the eyes before I tuck my thumbs into my leggings. We don’t break eye contact as I shimmy them down over my ass and kick them off of my feet with a dramatic flare.
Trey finally breaks, letting his eyes flick down to my black lace bikini-cut panties before roving up and down my bare legs. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his mouth before saying. “Those definitely weren’t in your laundry.”
I laugh and sit. “You are unbelievable.”
He shuffles the cards but doesn’t take his eyes off me. I try to fight my genuine smile, but I can’t. Sitting half-naked in my kitchen, drunk with Trey, is the most fun I’ve had in years.
Trey closes the fridge and catches me checking him out—again—as he walks back to the table in nothing but his boxers. The National Finals back number tattoos on his shoulder blades do not help my burning desire.
“Need a towel to sit on?” He flashes a knowing smirk.
I flip him off. Cocky bastard.
I should still have my leggings on, but I can’t focus. The way he’s looking at me tonight is . . . more. It almost feels like there could be something between us, but I know better. Right?
Trey deals our hands, and we play another round.
Neither of us speak. We’re more focused than any other hand.
I’m sure he’d rather not sit here with his dick out, and all I have left is my sweatshirt before he gets to see the second half of my matching lace set.
I can tell he’s dying to see what’s under my sweatshirt—probably hoping for nothing at all.
A few minutes later, my heart rate has climbed to an unhealthy level. I’m still several cards away from gin, but I can tell he’s getting close. It’s written all over him—he’s practically holding his breath each time he draws a card.
I see it on his face first. As soon as he draws his next card, he can’t stop the smile that grows as my eyes go wide.
“Gin,” he says triumphantly.
Well, shit.
Here goes nothing. I did pick this game, and I’m not uncomfortable. I love my body, and if I had to bet, I’d say Trey is a fan as well.
We lay our cards down at the same time before I slowly—torturously slowly—pull one arm out of my sweatshirt. Then the other arm, before lifting it over my head.
His eyes devour me, sweeping from my collarbone down to my waist and back up. I think I might pass out. I take it back. This game was a horrible idea. I have on a black lace bra, a see-through black lace bra. It matches my panties, and, fuck me, his eyes just caught on my belly button ring.
“Is this what you’ve been walking around the house in this entire time?” His voice is gravel as he leans forward on the table, holding eye contact.
I busy myself gathering the cards, ignoring his question because, no, I don’t normally wear my most expensive, sexiest set around the house. I did it tonight because I was feeling a little something extra. Apparently, that extra was getting tipsy and stripping naked in front of my roommate.
It’s my turn to deal. I stare down at the stack of cards and pause.
If he loses, he’ll be fully naked. If I lose, I might as well be.
We should stop. I don’t want to stop, but we should.
This could easily turn into something we can’t take back.
Our mutual attraction is a house fire, and we’re both stuck inside.
But then again . . . this has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?
My train of thought is cut off when Trey stands and starts to leave the room. “We should call it a night.”
What the hell?
Is he seriously the one walking away right now? I go after him, cutting him off. “What’s wrong, Bennett? Afraid you’ll lose? Too cold in here for you to measure up?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t respond, stepping to move around me, but I step with him, blocking his exit, fully invested in this fight now.
He’s chased me for a year, and now, what?
He’s changed his mind now that he’s seen more?
I know I’m not a double D, but I rock my C cups, thank you very much. “The view not good enough for you?”
He freezes. His blue eyes find mine, but I don’t see a challenge reflected back at me, I see desire. “What the fuck did you just say?” he growls.
I tilt my chin up and stand my ground. “You heard me. Why don’t you want to finish the game?”
He takes a step toward me.
I step back.
He takes another step.
My back hits the wall. I scan his body—his chest rises and falls faster and faster the lower my eyes go.
He leans one hand on each side of my head, caging me in, but not touching me. Our bodies are so close I can smell the peppermint scent that always follows him, and feel the heat radiating off of him.
He scoffs. “Why don’t I want to finish the game? Do you have any idea how much I’m restraining myself, Hawkins? Any idea the things I want to do to you? With you.”
My eyes widen, and I swallow. He’s never said anything this direct to me before.
“We aren’t finishing the game, Jessie, because you might regret it in the morning.
As much as I want to strip you naked and have you screaming my name, I don’t want it like this.
But do not, for one second, ever think you are not the sexiest woman I have ever seen.
If we ever fuck, it won’t be because we’re drunk, and playing a stupid game.
” He leans in, his breath moving my hair as he whispers, “It’ll be because you beg for it.
” He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw your picture with Kacey on Knox’s phone.
This ‘view’? This is the best fucking view in the world. ”
Goosebumps cover my neck and arms. Heat rises in my cheeks, and I just know they’re red.
I don’t know what to say to that. That–that was .
. . honesty. He’s right. We need to stop this here.
I realize then what upset me in the first place isn’t the fact that he stopped it—it’s the fact that I didn’t.
He must see the hurt behind my eyes because he continues, “Everyone calls me a player, and there is a lot of truth to that, but I’m not a douchebag. I care about you, Jessie. So, if we ever do this, I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
Gathering my composure, I cross my arms and glower at him. “I will never beg for it.”
“There’s my girl.” His lips twitch before he pushes off the wall and walks away. “Go to bed, Hawkins.”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“To take a cold shower.”
“You know this means I won, right?”
I can hear him laughing from behind the bathroom door. Grabbing my phone off the table, I do something I’m sure I’ll regret tomorrow.
Jessie
I've brought shame to my household.
Kacey
How very Bridgerton of you. But I thought that ship sailed the night of junior prom.
Jessie
No, that brought shame to his household. Worst 30 seconds of my life.
Jessie
Remember the other day when I said, there has been no removal of clothes?
Kacey
You have my attention...
Jessie
We got drunk and played strip gin.
Jessie
But nothing else happened, I swear!
Kacey
Sure it didn’t ;) You little rake, you.
Jessie
I don’t know what came over me, it was like an alien took over my body and decided the most important thing to do during its brief time on Earth was get Trey Bennett naked. Can’t complain about the view though.