Page 88 of Billion Dollar Mistake

Next, he tosses his gray jacket. I drop my gaze over the way his shirt hugs his muscled chest and arms. The white buttons are straining, and I can’t wait to have him remove it.

Yep. I need to win the next hand.

But he wins again.

This time, I stand. He’s watching me closely. His eyes hungrily trail the length of my body before coming up to my gaze. I slip the straps of my dress off each shoulder. My body prickles with goosebumps from not only the cool air but his dark, lustful gaze. I want him to touch me already.

When the fabric falls to the floor, he sucks in a sharp breath and mumbles the word, “Beautiful.”

I stand there in my beige bra and panties.

He doesn’t bother standing, but his hands go to his buttons.

“What are you doing?” I ask. Not understanding. He won.

“I’m matching you. If you lose, so do I.”

“I’d say I win. That’s not a loss.” My words die on my tongue as his fingers push on the buttons on his shirt.

It's alluring watching the man slowly unbutton and reveal his chest. A chest I remember from this morning. It’s solid, warm and chiselled with a sexy dusting of hair.

I curl my fingers around the arms of the chair. My fingers are desperate to feel him again. Feel how powerful he is.

He shrugs the shirt off his shoulders, and I think he's going to stop there. But he stands.

My breathing is turning into a pant when I see him unbuckle his black belt. He whips it off and unbuttons his pants.

“Oh, God,” I breathe.

“Do you want me to stop?” He challenges with a quirk of a brow.

“No way. Keep going,” I breathe.

“I thought so…” he says in a lighter tone.

He begins unbuttoning and unzipping his gray pants. Then he shoves his hands down the sides and slides his pants down. They fall to the floor and now he's standing in only his black boxer briefs. His obvious hard erection causes an ache in my pussy. I want to go and feel the soft skin under my palm or…I lick my lips imagining it in my mouth. It's hard to swallow.

He groans. “Fuck. You need to stop looking at me like you want to eat me.”

“I’d say sorry but I’m not. It’s exactly what I want to do.”

“Fuck.”

I look down with a smirk. If I look at him anymore, we will have to stop playing and this has been fun. Even if it’s making the ache worse, I know it’ll be worth it.

And every time he plays his favorite game with his friends, he’ll think of me. Poker won’t be the same for him again.

We play some more, and he puts down a full house. Damn it. I lost again.

I stare him down. Wondering do I go for the bra or the panties?

“Bra,” he grunts, answering my internal question.

I reach around the back and unclip the bra, letting it fall from my shoulders.

My nipples are tight buds. So much desire is coursing through my veins.

This game we're playing is the perfect foreplay.

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