Page 217 of Sweet Temptation

“I’m trying,” Ronan protested. He was naked down to his black boxer briefs and one sock. “This game is fucking hard.”

“It’s not hard,” Andre said. “You’re just that drunk.”

Andre had been betting zero every round and trying to lose every trick, and the tactic was working for him. Every round he won, he was gaining a solid ten points. I’d made the mistake of telling him my grandpa used to use that tactic.

“Fuck you,” Ronan said jovially. “Here, I’ll give you a freebie.” He peeled off his other sock.

“Very bad idea, brother,” Andre said.

We were down to one last hand, one card for each of us, and no trump suit. One trick left to win. Andre was shirtless. I was down to my bra and panties, stockings and skirt.

Ronan was almost naked, and he was up first. He laid down an eight of hearts.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I said. “Who bets on an eight?”

Andre howled. “Dude, you have the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever met.” Then he laid down his five.

I laid down my jack. Andre had won the zero tricks he’d bet, I’d won the one trick I’d bet… and Ronan had another blackball.

Andre and I both looked at him. All he had left to take off were his boxer briefs.

He met my eyes, and damn, he looked drunk.

“Okay, wait a sec,” I said, taking pity on him. I reached under my skirt again and slipped off my panties. I held them up, then dropped them on the floor.

Ronan’s eyes glazed over as he watched me do it. Booze and lust.

I shrugged when they both stared at me. “Call it a pity freebie.”

Andre grabbed the tequila bottle and poured us shots. Ronan picked up his shot and downed it without even waiting for us. Then he stood up, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear.

And oh… my.

He. Was. Hard.

Andre choked on the shot he’d just put back. “Oh. No. Brother, don’t—”

Ronan took a breath—and whipped his underwear down.

“NO!”

I gasped in pure joy and applauded as Ronan’s underwear dropped to his ankles.

“Brooooo! NOOOO!” Andre moaned, covering his eyes with his hand. “I DIDN’T THINK YOU WERE ACTUALLY GONNA DO IT!”

“Oh, he did it,” I said, and tossed my shot back.

Ronan rested a hand on one hip and took a big, drunken breath. Then he dug the other hand into the popcorn bowl. He stood there snacking with his naked, glorious hard-on out, as Andre fell out of his chair, one hand still over his eyes, and groped around on the floor for his shirt.

“What?” Ronan said through popcorn. “I lost the game.”

Andre pulled on his shirt and grabbed his shoes, staggered to the door, muttered something about calling a cab, and left. The door slammed unceremoniously behind him and I burst out laughing.

Ronan sighed raggedly. “I thought he’d never leave.”

“That… was… amazing,” I said, gazing up at him with unadulterated adoration.

Was this what it felt like to fall head-over-heels in love with one’s bodyguard?

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