Page 19 of May 11

"When?"

She laughed. "After you win a game of pool, and we have sex." She stepped away from him, grinning as if she'd already won. "Then, you answer my question."

Damned if he wasn't hard as a fucking rock, ready to bury himself inside of her.

She was young. But she knew how to play with him.

Sticks hit the table. He motioned for her to take her pick of pool sticks, and he racked the balls, setting them up for a new game.

He wasn't going to last the whole game without touching her more.

Walking over to her, he picked up a stick and said, "Give me a kiss, and you can break."

She turned, pecked his cheek, and leaned over the end of the table, lining up her shot. He wanted all that sass. She knew exactly what she was doing.

He eyed the strip of bareback that showed as she made her shot. He hadn't even felt her lips through the whiskers on his face.

Two balls went into the pockets. She had her pick of what side she wanted to play.

"I'll call solids." She strolled to the other end of the table.

She knew the basic rules. He widened his stance. It no longer mattered who won. He would be between her legs afterward.

Cora moved around the table four more times. She knew more than how to play. She was a damn good player. On any other day, he would've enjoyed watching her talent. Tonight, the sooner she finished, the faster he could get her out of there.

She leaned over. One arm stretched out on the table. The other was down at her side, holding the end of the cue stick.

He leaned to the side and could see underneath the loose material of her top and cut off his groan. She wore a pale pink bra.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I can feel you looking."

"That ain't all you're gonna feel tonight." He crossed his arms, keeping the stick planted between his boots and close to his chest.

Her lips curved. There were a thousand promises held in that smile of hers. If he overthought about what he was doing with her, he'd admit he was already in too deep. Men like him don't walk away from women like her.

Too young for him. Too tempting.

If he could catch her, he'd keep her flat on her back in his bed.

She walked in front of him, bent over, and lined her shot. Close enough to touch, he put his hand on the curve of her hip. She never moved.

The pressure in his chest increased. He gazed down at the flare of her ass in front of him. It would be nothing to reach down and slip his fingers underneath the fringe of her cutoffs.

She shot, straightening.

His hand fell away.

Cora turned to him. "You made me miss."

He cupped the back of her neck, dragging her against his front, and claimed her mouth. He'd played long enough.

Patience wasn't his strong suit.

He opened her mouth and delved in. A feral snarl grew in his chest. He dropped the cue stick and backed her to the wall, pressing his body against her.

All her curves softened his landing. He tilted her head, thrusting his tongue against her tongue. She tasted like sugared temptation.

The music faded. His pulse pounded in his ears.

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